Chapter 211: I, Kyurem, Am the TRUE Heir of Unova's Dragon God!
"You know, why does it seem like all the really powerful legendaries have some kind of transformation?"
Wallace couldn't help remarking on it.
He'd just noticed, actually. Kyogre, Groudon, Rayquaza — and now Kyurem, standing before them as Black Kyurem. All of them had some kind of powered-up alternate form.
And the ones that didn't — Zekrom being the obvious example — were noticeably weaker by comparison.
"Maybe now isn't the time for that observation?" Steven's expression twitched slightly. He had to admit, Wallace's thought process moved in unexpected directions.
"Haah—"
Alder just wanted to sigh. He was tired in a way that went all the way down.
They'd come here to ask Kyurem for help. And somehow they'd ended up in a fight with it.
He'd mentally prepared for the possibility of a misunderstanding — maybe even a confrontation. But this was the worst-case version. And now the question was: without Kyurem's cooperation, how were they supposed to push Team Rocket out of Unova?
Alder's thoughts kept circling the same problem. He'd never seriously considered eliminating Team Rocket — he was clear-eyed enough to know that was beyond what they could accomplish. The realistic goal was forcing them to leave Unova.
Mammon holding Primal Kyogre was the core issue. That was a mutually-assured-destruction card — a weapon that could theoretically end the region. Which meant that unless they could guarantee an absolute win, taking Mammon down directly was off the table. He wouldn't actually use Primordial Sea to destroy Unova, because doing so would ruin him just as surely as it ruined everyone else, and Mammon wasn't stupid. But the threat was real enough.
Driving Team Rocket out through applied military pressure, though — that might be possible. Mammon wanted to operate in Unova, not level it. He had reasons to care about the region's continued existence.
Which was exactly why Kyurem had seemed like the right play.
And now Kyurem wasn't cooperating.
Alder turned it over in his mind. If it genuinely came to nothing, and the situation mirrored what had happened in Hoenn — he might have to accept Team Rocket's presence. He didn't want to. A criminal organization taking root in his region was a disaster waiting to happen. But what was the alternative if they couldn't win?
"Kyurem." Giovanni kept his voice measured, facing Black Kyurem. "We have no desire for conflict. Is there really no way to discuss this?"
Because honestly, Black Kyurem was being unreasonable. There was no other word for it.
"ROOOARR!!"
Black Kyurem didn't answer. It threw its head back and roared, and the turbine at its tail began to spin — blue-white energy condensing around it, building steadily, forming into a sphere that grew and grew until it encompassed the dragon's entire body. Electricity crawled along the surface of the growing orb, flickering and hissing, beautiful in the way that something genuinely dangerous can be.
Freeze Shock. Black Kyurem's signature move.
"Groudon — Precipice Blades!!"
Giovanni moved immediately.
Primal Groudon's body blazed with deep red light. Its right claw rose and drove into the ground with a force that shook the canyon floor—
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
The earth cracked open in a spreading wave. Enormous swords of molten rock erupted from the fissures, lava running along their edges, surging toward Black Kyurem in a field of scorching stone blades.
Precipice Blades. Ground-type. Groudon's signature.
Black Kyurem dove.
The two attacks collided at the center of the canyon, and the result was an explosion that filled the glacial space with roaring wind — blue-white and red-orange tearing at each other, the competing forces generating shockwaves that radiated outward in every direction.
The group had already released their frontline Pokémon before the impact landed, Protect barriers snapping up around them. The shockwave would have been enough to throw people off their feet without them.
But Freeze Shock was relentless. It pushed through the field of molten blades, shattering them one by one, grinding forward until it reached Primal Groudon directly.
"Strength!!"
Primal Groudon brought its claws up, tan-orange energy gathering — and held.
The force drove Groudon backward, claws screaming against the ice-coated stone, two long gouges opening up behind it as it was shoved across the canyon floor. The cold from Freeze Shock crept through the point of contact and began spreading up Groudon's arms.
BANG.
Freeze Shock collapsed. Black Kyurem used the release of pressure to pull back, rising again into the air.
"—"
Wallace inhaled sharply.
Primal Groudon's arms were coated in a thin layer of ice crystals. Faint, but visible.
That was — that was on Primal Groudon. A Fire/Ground legendary. Ground was weak to Ice, yes, but Fire resisted Ice — Ice couldn't super-effectively hit a Fire-type. And Primal Groudon's internal temperature was something visible in the lava seeping from the seams in its body armor.
And despite all of that, Black Kyurem had managed to leave ice on it.
"That's genuinely alarming." Steven's brow was tight.
One exchange and Primal Groudon was already on the back foot.
Primal Groudon blazed back to life — Desolate Land's harsh sunlight hammering down, dissolving the ice crystals off its arms in seconds.
"ROOAAR~"
Black Kyurem's roar was different this time. The tail turbine didn't accumulate ice-blue energy — it erupted in fierce flame, and the fire raced across its body in a single continuous surge. The transformation was instantaneous.
Where Black Kyurem had been, something else stood.
White Kyurem.
The color palette had shifted entirely — grey and white, where before it had been grey and black. A crest of long white feathers rose from its head. Its left arm had become a white wing-limb. The tail turbine had gone white.
"Another form?" Wallace's eyes went wide.
"It resembles Reshiram now," Cynthia said, studying it. "It can shift between two entirely different forms."
The resemblance was obvious once you saw it — elements of Zekrom's design in the Black form, elements of Reshiram's in the White form. Kyurem contained both.
"ROOAARR~!!"
White Kyurem's tail turbine ignited with deep red light. Blue-violet energy began accumulating, condensing into an enormous sphere in front of it.
Ice Burn. White Kyurem's signature move.
"Kyurem." Giovanni narrowed his eyes and held his ground. "If what I said about Reshiram and Zekrom offended you, I apologize. But unleashing your anger on us — what does that accomplish? If you resent that the black and white dragons' names are better known than yours, the answer is to face them directly. Prove your strength against the ones who actually carry that recognition."
He'd caught it — the first time Kyurem had moved, the trigger had been the mention of Reshiram and Zekrom. There was something there.
The body that remained when the Dragon of Unova divided its spirit away. The vessel left behind. Kyurem.
And the vessels, apparently, had feelings about the parts that had left.
"Amusing. What use is a reputation like that? And those two — the black dragon and the white dragon — are nothing. What right do they have to be named alongside me?"
White Kyurem's mental voice carried a deep, cold contempt. Its position was clear and had apparently been held for some time.
Its so-called "kin" were an embarrassment. Fragments of the same original being, spending their existence chasing abstractions called Truth and Ideals. Pathetic.
White Kyurem had nothing but disdain for them.
"You're right," Giovanni said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "But who knows that besides you?"
He'd felt it now. White Kyurem's attitude toward the black and white dragons wasn't just indifference — it was active hostility. Old contempt.
"No one knows you, Kyurem. No one knows that your power far exceeds Reshiram and Zekrom's. The world only remembers the two that emerged when the Dragon divided — the ones with the heroes, the ones with the stories. Not the one that remained."
White Kyurem said nothing. The gold eyes continued their cold, unhurried flickering.
But the enormous Ice Burn sphere in front of it began, slowly, to dissipate.
"You need to step out into the world. Let history record this chapter. Show them that Reshiram and Zekrom are far below you — as they are."
"Hm. Human."
White Kyurem looked down at Giovanni, the dragon's gaze sharp.
"The ones you want me to fight — they're the heroes chosen by the black and white dragons, aren't they?"
Giovanni had been steering the conversation. Subtly, but steering it. Kyurem wasn't foolish, and it had noticed — it was reclusive, not dull.
"Yes." Giovanni didn't deny it.
"We share a common enemy, Kyurem."
"Don't misunderstand."
White Kyurem straightened, rising, its gaze drifting toward the horizon. It could sense them — Reshiram and Zekrom, their presence registering like a faint signal. They shared the same origin. As long as neither was too far away or actively masking itself, any of the three could sense the others.
White Kyurem's mouth pulled back. The expression on a dragon's face was not designed for warmth, and what appeared there was not warmth.
"I'm not doing this for you."
"But you have a point. The black dragon and the white dragon have been 'playing outside' for long enough. It's time for them to come back where they belong."
White Kyurem launched straight up and was gone.
The canyon felt noticeably larger without it.
It had been hollow for too long. It needed Truth and Ideals back. And more to the point — Kyurem was the rightful heir of the Dragon of Unova.
Kyurem.
Not those two.
Primal Groudon stared at the sky where White Kyurem had disappeared, and experienced a complicated internal moment.
Everyone else could fly.
White Kyurem, Black Kyurem — just took off straight up. Effortless.
Primal Groudon had never flown.
…Not that it wanted to. It was the Continent Pokémon. It belonged on the ground. Flying was for lesser beings. It was fine. This was fine. The ground was where it was meant to be. It didn't care about flying. Not even a little.
"Haah—"
With White Kyurem gone, Wallace let out a long, slow breath.
That presence had been genuinely oppressive. Not just the power — the personality, the sheer hostile weight of Kyurem's character, all of it together.
"It's going after Reshiram and Zekrom," Leon said, thinking it through. He glanced at Giovanni. "Gym Leader Giovanni — that was masterful manipulation."
If Giovanni hadn't talked Kyurem into moving, today would have ended with Primal Groudon evacuating everyone at top speed. From what the exchange had shown, Kyurem was stronger than Primal Groudon. There was no scenario where staying to fight had gone well.
"It was the only option available," Giovanni said, with a small shake of his head.
The things he did for this League. He genuinely was going above and beyond.
"But what did Kyurem mean at the end?" Cynthia frowned. "'They need to come back where they belong.' What exactly does that mean?"
"Maybe it can absorb them?" Wallace offered, half-joking.
It wasn't entirely absurd, actually. Per the Unova legend, all three dragons had originated from a single Dragon of Unova that divided. If Kyurem was the strongest remnant — the body — could it re-absorb Reshiram and Zekrom and reconstitute the original?
"No idea. Let's go. Staying here longer serves no purpose."
Giovanni recalled Groudon and turned toward the exit. Kyurem was gone. The meeting was over.
They filed out of the glacial canyon and emerged from Giant Chasm into the open air.
Where they stopped and looked at the landscape around the cave entrance.
The grass was dead. The trees were dead. A radius of scorched, desiccated vegetation surrounded the mouth of the cave, wilted and brown.
"It's a good thing Gym Leader Giovanni had Groudon control the range," Leon said, taking in the damage. "That ability is terrifying."
Desolate Land's harsh sunlight, unmoderated, would have done far worse. The aridity it produced was just as catastrophic in a different direction from Primordial Sea — a sustained regional drought rather than a flood, but equally ruinous.
"Absolutely," Cynthia agreed.
Giovanni smiled faintly, privately and without broadcasting it.
His Groudon. He was, genuinely, quite pleased with Desolate Land.
"Let's head back. We don't know whether Kyurem will go for Reshiram first or Zekrom."
(End of Chapter)
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