Celadon City greeted them with color and noise. The streets pulsed with life, stalls overflowing with sweets and incense, banners strung high across rooftops.
Ash was practically skipping. "Celadon Gym! Erika's supposed to be amazing with Grass-types!"
Misty groaned, dragging her feet. "After Lavender, I was hoping for someplace normal."
Brock's eyes had already zeroed in on the perfume shop signs, hearts practically shining from his pupils. "Celadon… truly the city of beauty!"
Ren, however, wasn't listening. His eyes lingered on the posters plastered across walls and lampposts, inked in deep violets and blacks.
ANNUAL GHOST FESTIVAL, Tonight! Parade, Tournament, Displays of the Beyond.
He stopped dead in the middle of the street. Ghastly popped out of his Poké Ball, floating over his shoulder with an excited cackle.
Misty wrinkled her nose. "Oh no. He's got that look again."
Ren murmured, voice low but firm: "We're not leaving until I see this."
By evening, Celadon transformed. Purple lanterns floated like will-o'-the-wisps along the streets, their paper shells shaped like Gastly and Haunters. The air was thick with sweet-smelling incense that curled into fog-like trails. Musicians played haunting flutes, their notes drifting like whispers. Children wore masks of ghosts, running about shouting "boo!" at passersby.
Ren breathed it in deeply, shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. The haunted perfume of the city felt like home.
Cael walked beside him, eyeing the decorations with suspicion. "Creepy. You're enjoying this way too much."
Ren smirked faintly. "Finally. A place with taste."
Ash was distracted by the food stalls, piling skewers of grilled dumplings into his arms. Misty wrinkled her nose at the incense. Brock was, as always, getting distracted by festival girls.
But Ren's eyes were locked on the stage at the plaza's center. Trainers were gathering, their Ghost Pokémon floating and flickering with ethereal glow. A banner declared: Ghost Display Tournament, Winner Earns the Festival Laurel.
Ren's lips curved. "Perfect."
Dozens of trainers lined up, each eager to show off their spectral companions.
The rules were simple: not a normal battle, but a contest of fear, awe, and illusion. Each competitor had five minutes to display their Ghost Pokémon's mastery of the spectral arts. Judges scored based on fright, creativity, and control.
Ren stepped forward, slipping Ghastly's ball back into his pocket. His partner didn't need releasing, Ghastly already swirled around him like a veil of smoke.
The announcer, an excitable man in festival robes, called out: "Next competitor, Ren of Pallet Town, accompanied by his Ghastly!"
A murmur spread through the crowd. Some whispered the name, they'd heard rumors.
Ren said nothing. He simply stepped onto the stage, Ghastly's laughter echoing above.
At first, the stage was still. Then Ghastly exhaled, purple haze spreading. Shadows deepened unnaturally, lanterns flickering. The crowd hushed.
The mist thickened until the stage was no longer visible, only a graveyard of illusions. Headstones jutted from the cobblestones, names unreadable. A faint tolling bell rang somewhere far off, though no one had struck it.
Gasps rose from the audience.
Ghastly's form melted into dozens of smaller phantoms, drifting through the mist like lost souls. One leaned close to a judge's ear, whispering in a voice that wasn't Ren's: "Leave… while you can."
The judge nearly fell backward.
Then, from the mist, a skeletal hand clawed out of the ground, dragging a half-formed phantom with it. A chorus of moans echoed, the sound vibrating in the bones.
Ren didn't speak. He simply stood still at the center, hands folded behind his back, directing Ghastly with the slightest tilt of his head. His control was absolute, a chessmaster commanding the board with invisible moves.
And then, for the finale, the mist collapsed inward, coiling into a towering Haunter-shaped silhouette that leaned over the crowd. Its jaws opened…
And the lanterns all extinguished at once.
A beat of silence.
Then the lights reignited, the illusions vanished, and only Ren and Ghastly remained, calm and quiet.
The plaza erupted in applause. Children screamed in delight, adults shivered, and even the stoic judges struggled to compose themselves.
Cael, arms crossed, scowled from the sidelines. But her voice was grudgingly impressed. "He doesn't even battle like a normal trainer. It's like he is one of them."
Machop tugged at her sleeve, unsettled by the ghostly display. She sighed and patted its head. "Don't worry. We'll crush him eventually."
Still, her gaze lingered a little longer than she meant it to.
The announcer's voice cracked with excitement. "And the winner of this year's Ghost Festival Tournament… REN OF PALLET TOWN!"
The laurel wreath was placed in his hands. Ghastly giggled, spinning around his head like a crown.
Ren was ushered to the microphone for the traditional winner's question: What is your dream?
The crowd hushed, waiting.
Ren stared down at them, expression calm, almost bored. Then he spoke.
"I don't want to be Champion. I don't want to sit in the League. I don't want fame or glory."
Gasps rippled. Trainers exchanged looks.
Ren's eyes glimmered faintly in the lantern light. "I want to build the greatest haunted house in the world. A place for every Ghost Pokémon. A sanctuary, and a home."
The crowd burst into mixed reactions, some laughing, some cheering, some whispering nervously. Who dreams of such a thing?
Ren's lips twitched with the faintest smirk. Almost too quiet to hear, he muttered: "I'd call it Shadow Garden… but that's already taken."
Cael, close enough to catch it, frowned. "Shadow… what?"
Misty elbowed Ash. "Did he just make a joke?"
Ash blinked. "I didn't know he could joke."
Ren cleared his throat and walked off stage, ignoring the confused murmurs.
That night, the festival buzzed with whispers.
"The Ghost Prince has no interest in the throne?"
"He wants a haunted house?"
"Stranger still, the way he commands those ghosts…"
Children imitated Ghastly's illusions in the street. Merchants speculated if "Ren's Haunted House" would become an attraction one day. And in dark corners, older trainers whispered with unease: A boy who could control fear itself, what might he grow into?
Oak would later receive a detailed report of Ren's performance, muttering to himself, "This boy… he may surpass even me, but not in the way I thought."
And Agatha, upon hearing the rumors, laughed herself hoarse. "Ha! My little shadow, making his mark."
Ren himself sat quietly at the edge of the festival, notebook open, Ghastly floating lazily above. He didn't bask in attention, didn't mingle with admirers. He just wrote, diagrams of illusions filling the page.
Cael approached, Machop at her side. She studied him a long moment before saying, softly: "One day, I'll beat you… and when I do, I'll make you admit what you really are."
Ren didn't look up. "And what's that?"
Her voice was steady. "…The heir of shadows. Whether you like it or not."
Ren smirked faintly, jotting another note. "Good luck catching me."
The festival lights glowed long into the night, the whispers of his haunted house dream echoing louder than any laurel crown could.