“What the fuck is he doing?
He just ruined our goddamn feast!”
“Hold on, he just created a brand-new type of ghost!
I’ve been dead for nearly a damn century and I’ve never seen this breed before.”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you.
We’ve run into an absolute master today.
May I ask, what divine entity are you, boss?”
Lorze’s actions terrified the three ghosts.
Haunter cupped his floating hands together respectfully and asked.
“I am merely a Necromancer—Lorze!”
Just moments ago, a spark of inspiration hit Lorze.
He suddenly recalled the Soul Condensation Art from his necromancy tomes, a spell capable of consolidating souls overflowing with profound hatred.
Treating a dead horse as a living patient, he decided to test it on the dying Zorua.
Unbelievably, it actually fucking worked.
And the Zorua before his eyes had perfectly assumed the form of the Hisui region variant from the original lore.
This was an unmatched, top-tier combination of Normal and Ghost typings.
Not only did it resist Bug and Poison, but it also boasted three absolute immunities: Normal, Fighting, and Ghost.
Its only weakness was the Dark typing.
However, this specific breed of Zorua should have been extinct in this era for hundreds of years.
To think he had inadvertently resurrected it through sheer, unadulterated necromancy.
Although Zorua’s physical vessel was still technically a rotting corpse, it had at least salvaged its consciousness and soul.
“Gaaaa~!”
Yet, the reborn Zorua continued to shriek a bloodcurdling howl.
It was laced with hostility, utter terror, blinding pain, and raw malice, terrifying the nearby Duskull and Shuppet so badly they retreated dozens of meters in a panic.
Even Haunter, the criminal underworld boss of this turf, looked like it was facing its worst nightmare.
That was how suffocating the grudges radiating off it were.
“Is standard communication impossible?
It seems its emotional state is entirely shattered.
God only knows what kind of hellish torture it endured while alive!”
Heart aching with sympathy, Lorze embraced the wildly thrashing, snarling Zorua, casting a telepathic necromancy spell to bridge the gap into the little creature’s mental world.
Instantly, a tidal wave of sheer resentment flooded Lorze’s sea of consciousness.
Even with the mental fortitude of an apprentice mage, he reeled from the impact.
Despised and viciously betrayed by the Trainer it trusted with its life, ultimately tossed out like literal trash in a shithole where even a Pidgey wouldn’t bother to take a shit.
“I know.
I fucking know.
It’s all over now.
I feel your grievances.
I see your suffering!
From this second forward, I am your Trainer.
Trust me, absolutely no one will ever lay a finger on you again.”
The current Zorua wasn’t just resurrected by Lorze’s necromancy; he had also concurrently forged an Undead Contract with it.
A profound tether now bound their souls together, breeding an innate, unbreakable intimacy.
This specific Contract Spell was magic used by Necromancers to bind highly intelligent, supreme undead beings.
Who would have thought it would work flawlessly on the Ghost-type Pokémon of this universe?
Hearing that soothing voice—a language seemingly carved into the deepest marrow of its soul—Zorua’s violent thrashing gradually subsided.
The bloodthirsty crimson bleeding into its pupils slowly dissolved.
“Guurr~”
Zorua finally calmed down, only to notice Lorze’s arm, heavily gouged and bleeding from its crazed struggling.
It let out an apologetic whimper and began cautiously licking the wounds.
“It’s fine.
Don’t blame yourself.
Compared to the ‘dark academic’ hell I endured over the past two years, these scratches don’t even count as a fucking tickle.”
Lorze affectionately patted the little guy’s head.
Despite being a Ghost-type, it actually had a soft, incredibly fluffy texture.
Truly worthy of being called a miraculous Pokémon!
Compared to the wraiths in the magical world—monsters that permanently forfeit every shred of humanity upon creation—Pokémon were unfathomably beautiful.
The quintessential nature of a Pokémon’s soul appeared exceptionally resilient, brimming with unbelievable malleability.
Yet, even with such magnificent creatures, there were still absolute scumbags who didn’t know how to cherish them, actively projecting their sadistic, twisted malice onto them instead.
“Zorua, scanning through your memories just now, I could only catch a hazy glimpse of the bastard who did this to you.
Tell me who it is.
I’ll get revenge for you—no!
I will stand right beside you as we rip justice from him together.”
“Guurr!”
Zorua flinched violently, raw terror immediately flooding back into its eyes.
It shook its head in sheer panic as fragmented thoughts bled into Lorze’s mind:
“N-no…
don’t go.
That man has so many terrifyingly strong Pokémon.
You’ll get hurt…”
Lorze was stunned.
Zorua’s previous incarnation was a Dark-type Pokémon, yet its soul was so undeniably pure and kind.
In stark contrast to certain pieces of human garbage…
The more docile and gentle the Zorua in his arms behaved, the colder and more venomous Lorze’s mood became.
“It’s alright.
This world has justice and order, governed by strict laws.
As long as we have the cold, hard evidence, we won’t even need to dirty our own hands to drag that butcher to hell.
You just need to tell me everything you know.
Besides, a prick who could mutilate you like this won’t hesitate to do the exact same shit to other innocent Pokémon.
You don’t want history to repeat itself, do you?”
Hearing this, the panic in Zorua’s eyes was instantly replaced with fiery resolve.
It slowly spilled out its horrific past, large eyes pooling with tears from the agonizing trauma.
According to Zorua, its former Trainer was a balding, middle-aged man—the exact same human Haunter had spotted earlier.
After buying Zorua off the black market, he subjected it to violently overloaded, hellish training regimes every single damn day.
It was forced to learn skills far exceeding its physical limits at the cost of crippling its own body.
A single misstep meant brutal corporal punishment or absolute starvation.
Yet even in that hellhole, Zorua gritted its teeth and persevered.
It naively believed that as long as it grew strong enough and obedient enough, it would eventually experience the warmth and bond it had seen between street Pokémon and their Trainers.
However, what ultimately awaited it was a nightmarish fighting ring!
It was an underground casino in Lilycove City, specializing in illegal, blood-soaked Pokémon deathmatches.
Zorua was tossed into the rookie arena by that bastard.
In these unregulated, lawless brawls, it was mercilessly beaten to a bloody pulp by a Snubbull that had a massive type advantage over it.
Nobody even thought to stop the fight.
By the time it was dragged out of the pit, it was clinging to life by a thread.
But the Trainer who had condemned it to the ring didn’t offer a sliver of medical treatment.
Instead, upon hearing the astronomical medical fees required to save it, he savagely kicked it across the room.
After that, he simply drove his car straight to this abandoned complex and dumped it here like a rotting piece of trash.
“I think I know the spot you’re talking about.
Fresh resentment spawns from that shithole almost every single day.
But there are also a few terrifyingly strong energy signatures lurking there.
Even though I was itching to go, I never dared to suck up the souls there,” Haunter chimed in after listening.
“To run an underground casino right in the heart of Lilycove City, they must have some god-tier backing.
They’re out of my league for now.
But the scumbag who abandoned you—we can absolutely hunt him down and make him pay right now.
Do you remember his damn name?”
“I think his name was Rhodes!
Guurr~~”
“Rhodes!
That name sounds awfully familiar!
I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere, but I haven’t interacted with many people since arriving here.
Wait a damn minute—”
Suddenly remembering something, Lorze shoved a hand into his pocket and fished out a business card.
“Dr.
Rhodes’ Psychological Clinic.
30 years of clinical experience.
Address…”
“It’s the exact same name as the psychiatrist Nurse Joy recommended.
Calling it a coincidence is a bit too fucking rich.
Looks like I’ll have to pay the good doctor a visit after all!”