The mountain wind carried the scent of pine and clean stone as Tharion stood where he had arrived, letting the moment settle.
He didn't move right away.
He simply breathed.
The villa's vast garden stretched before him—two hundred and fifty acres of living harmony. Streams glinted under the sun, weaving through fields where Pokémon trained in small groups or rested beneath ancient trees. Some practiced moves in careful rotation, others sparred playfully, and a few simply slept, bodies rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.
This place lived.
And it recognized him.
A deep, familiar presence stirred beneath the land—old wards, gentle but alert, acknowledging their master's return. At the same time, the Pokémon themselves reacted not to power, but to him.
The ground shook slightly.
A thunderous wingbeat split the air.
Charizard was already airborne, roaring with unmistakable joy as he dove toward Tharion and landed hard enough to crack stone. Heat radiated from him—not aggressive, not threatening—just alive.
Tharion laughed under his breath. "You didn't lose any weight."
Charizard snorted, flames flickering proudly.
Lucario arrived next, aura blazing bright, his steps precise but urgent. He stopped in front of Tharion and bowed his head—not in submission, but in respect.
"You've been keeping watch," Tharion said, meeting Lucario's eyes. "Good work."
Lucario straightened, clearly pleased.
A streak of blue lightning zipped up his leg.
"Pika!"
Pikachu climbed onto his shoulder, cheeks sparking as it pressed its head against his neck. Tharion reached up and scratched behind Pikachu's ear instinctively.
"Hey, partner."
From the trees, Greninja emerged silently, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—but the moment Tharion looked at him, Greninja nodded once. Nothing more was needed.
Garchomp landed with a ground-shaking thud, tail swaying like a restless blade. Metagross hovered nearby, optics glowing softly as it analyzed Tharion from multiple angles.
Even the quieter ones approached—Ralts, now fully evolved Gardevoirs, ghost-types drifting between shadows, Darkrai lingering at the edge of perception, present but respectful.
No fear.
No nightmares.
Only recognition.
Tharion knelt, pressing his palm to the soil.
"I know I disappear," he said quietly. "I know I ask a lot of you."
The Pokémon listened.
"But this place exists because of you. And wherever I go… you're never left behind."
Charizard lowered his head, touching Tharion's shoulder with his snout.
Lucario placed a paw over Tharion's hand.
A silent promise passed between them.
When they finally moved toward the villa, it felt less like returning to a base—and more like entering a home long awaited.
Inside, the air was warm. Familiar. Comfortable. A few Pokémon immediately claimed their usual spots—Metagross near the open terrace, Pikachu curling atop a cushion, Charizard sprawled half-inside, half-outside near the wide doors.
Tharion poured himself a drink and stood before the wall of maps.
His eyes traced familiar routes.
Kanto—where it all began.Johto—where patience was forged.Hoenn—where raw power had been tested.
Then—
Sinnoh.
Cold peaks. Ancient legends. A League that demanded not just strength, but resolve, timing, and adaptability.
He stared at it longer than the others.
Charizard noticed.
Lucario noticed.
"So many battles behind us," Tharion murmured. "So many wars that weren't ours to fight."
He exhaled slowly.
"But this one…"
His hand reached out, fingers brushing the Sinnoh emblem.
"This one can be mine."
Pikachu hopped down, sparks dancing lightly.
Lucario's aura flared—focused, eager.
Greninja stepped forward, eyes sharp.
Tharion smiled, genuine and unburdened.
"I'm not going as a savior," he said."Not as a champion of regions."
"Just a trainer."
The room seemed to hum in approval.
Later that night, under a sky full of stars, Tharion stood alone on the villa balcony. The mountain range stretched endlessly before him.
He activated a familiar interface—not the System of wars and invasions.
But something simpler.
Trainer Registration.
Sinnoh Region.
Name: Tharion
He paused only once.
Then confirmed.
The screen faded.
Somewhere far away, a League database updated quietly.
And with that—
The path was set.
Not toward catastrophe.
Not toward destiny.
But toward the arena—
Where strength was tested honestly, and victories were earned, not demanded.
The confirmation faded.
The mountain wind stirred once more.
Tharion closed the interface and let his hand fall to his side. For a moment, he remained on the balcony, watching the stars stretch across the sky like scattered embers. The path ahead was clear now—clear in a way that felt earned, not forced.
Sinnoh awaited.
But first—
Home.
The world folded.
Not violently. Not urgently.
Just a smooth transition, like stepping through a door you'd walked through a thousand times before.
When the light settled, Tharion stood within the familiar villa near Pallet Town.
Warm lamplight glowed through wide windows. The distant sound of waves rolled in softly from the coast. Inside, the air carried the comforting scent of cooked food and clean linen—small things that grounded him far more than power ever could.
He didn't announce himself.
He never needed to.
"Tharion?"
Selene's voice came from the living room, surprised—then immediately relieved.
She turned just as he stepped in.
For a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other.
Then she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. Tharion returned the embrace, resting his forehead briefly against hers.
"You're back," she said quietly.
"I am."
From the cradle near the window came a soft sound—a small, sleepy murmur.
Tharion stepped closer, carefully lifting the tiny bundle into his arms.
Aster stirred, eyes fluttering open for just a second before settling again, one tiny hand closing around Tharion's finger.
Four months old.
And already the most powerful anchor he'd ever known.
"He's grown," Tharion murmured.
Selene smiled. "He waits for you more than you think."
Tharion held Aster close, instinctively adjusting his grip until the baby rested comfortably against his chest.
"I registered for the Sinnoh League," he said calmly.
Selene blinked—then smiled, not surprised at all.
"Finally," she said. "You've earned something that's just yours."
He glanced at her. "You're okay with it?"
She met his gaze steadily. "I married a man who walks between worlds. A League is… peaceful, compared to that."
A pause.
Then Selene added, "Ash is home, by the way."
Tharion's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Already?"
"He returned earlier today," she said. "Training nonstop. Talking about strategy. About getting stronger."
A faint smile tugged at Tharion's lips.
"I'd like to see how far he's come."
Selene nodded. "He'd want that too."
Moments later, the villa doors opened, evening light spilling across the path as they stepped outside.
Tharion carried Aster easily, one arm steady, natural—like he'd always known how to do this. Selene walked beside him, her pace unhurried.
They didn't rush.
There was no battle waiting.
No alarm.
Just a quiet walk through Pallet Town, toward a familiar house and a boy chasing his dream.
Tharion glanced down at Aster, who slept peacefully against his chest.
"Someday," he murmured softly, "I'll tell you about all of this."
The town lights flickered on as they reached the path leading to Ash's home.
And for the first time in a long while—
The future felt simple.
Not because it was easy.
But because it was chosen.