They found the girl three days east of the ship graveyard, half-buried in a dune of black sand, her skin blistered from acid rain, lips cracked and whispering a single word on loop:
"Don't let them take it…"
Teo knelt beside her, checking her pulse—weak, but present. She wore a tattered gray robe marked with the Veiled Conclave's sigil: an eye with a chain through its pupil.
Yumi immediately pulled out a vial of lavender mist and held it to the girl's nose. The girl inhaled sharply, then coughed herself awake.
Her eyes—wide, terrified—locked onto Teo's left eye, the one that saw aura.
"You're him," she rasped. "The synchronized host."
Teo tensed. "Who are you?"
"Rin," she whispered. "Former acolyte of the Third Choir. I… I ran."
She tried to sit up, but her arms gave out. Yumi caught her, wordlessly wrapping a damp cloth around her burned wrists.
"They're coming," Rin gasped. "The Sunderer. It doesn't hunt. It unmakes. And it's been tracking your aura trail for days."
Teo's stomach dropped. "How do you know?"
Rin's voice broke. "I saw it work. On my partner. A Ralts. We'd been bonded since we were children." Her breath hitched. "It touched her… and she looked at me like I was a stranger. Then she walked away. Didn't even flinch when I called her name."
She buried her face in her hands. "It didn't kill her. It just… deleted me from her heart."
Lucario stepped forward, aura flickering with recognition—and rage.
Teo placed a hand on its shoulder. "We won't let it happen to anyone else."
Rin looked up, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her face. "You can't fight it. Physical attacks don't work. It's not flesh. It's… residue. Echoes given form."
"Then we don't fight it like a Pokémon," Teo said. "We fight it like a concept."
They didn't have time to prepare.
By dusk, the air grew still.
Not silent.
Empty.
The usual hum of insects, the groan of shifting rock, even the distant hiss of acid tides—all gone.
Yumi grabbed Teo's arm, eyes wide. She signed one word:
"Now."
From the horizon, it came.
Not walking.
Unfolding.
A figure tall and slender, made of interlocking shards of translucent glass, each fragment reflecting a different memory—some joyful, some horrific. Its face was smooth, featureless, save for two hollow pits where eyes should be.
And in its chest—a swirling vortex of stolen aura, pulsing like a black heart.
The Sunderer.
It moved without sound, gliding over the dunes like a shadow given weight.
Rin whimpered. "It's already seen us. It knows our pain."
Teo turned to his team. "Yumi—protect Rin. Lucario—stick to the plan."
The Lucario nodded, eyes locked on the approaching entity.
They'd trained for this.
Not with strength.
With emotion.
Because the Sunderer didn't attack bodies.
It fed on bonds.
And to fight it, they had to weaponize theirs.
As the Sunderer drew near—ten meters, five, three—Teo took a deep breath.
Then he remembered.
Not strategically.
Viscerally.
He thought of his lola's hands kneading dough for pan de sal.
Of his mother's voice singing "Bahay Kubo" during blackouts.
Of texting "On my way home" seconds before the e-bike hit him.
He poured every ounce of that love, that grief, that kapwa into his aura.
And then—he shared it.
Not just with Lucario.
With Yumi. With Rin. Even with the distant, watching Phantump.
A pulse of blue energy radiated from him—not an attack.
An invitation.
The Sunderer hesitated.
For the first time, its glass body rippled.
It wasn't used to being offered connection.
It was used to taking it.
"Now, Lucario!" Teo yelled.
The Lucario didn't charge.
It screamed—a raw, wordless cry of loyalty, grief, and refusal.
And in that emotional spike, it activated its new vow:
"Echo Step."
It vanished.
Reappeared inside the Sunderer's chest vortex.
Not to strike.
To remember with it.
The Lucario flooded the entity with every memory of its bond—not just the pain of loss, but the joy of its trainer's laugh, the warmth of shared sunsets, the quiet pride in a battle well fought.
The Sunderer shuddered.
Its glass body cracked.
Because it wasn't built to hold love.
Only absence.
"You don't get to erase us!" Teo roared, pushing more aura into the link.
The Sunderer let out a sound—not a scream, but a static wail—as its form destabilized.
Shards fell away, dissolving into ash before they hit the ground.
But as it collapsed, one hand lashed out—faster than thought—and brushed Teo's left arm.
Cold.
Not physical.
Spiritual.
Like something vital had been scraped away.
Teo gasped, collapsing to his knees.
[ CRITICAL WARNING: IDENTITY INTEGRITY BREACH ]
[ EMOTIONAL ANCHOR DAMAGE DETECTED — "LOLA" MEMORY CLUSTER TEMPORARILY SUPPRESSED ]
[ HOST IDENTITY INTEGRITY: 79% ]
He couldn't remember her face.
Just… warmth. And the smell of sinigang.
Panic clawed at his throat.
Yumi was beside him in an instant, hands on his temples, chanting in that soft, ancient tongue.
Rin crawled over, placing a trembling hand on his back. "It didn't take everything. Just… a piece. To weaken you."
Teo breathed—shallow, ragged.
But then Lucario was there, pressing its forehead to his.
And through the bond, it shared its memory of Teo:
—Holding him after the Scorchclaw attack.
—Saying "You're worth it."
—Choosing to stay, even when running would've been safer.
Teo's vision blurred.
"You're my anchor now," he whispered.
[ SYNCHRONIZATION: 74% ]
[ IDENTITY INTEGRITY: STABILIZING — NEW ANCHOR ESTABLISHED ]
The Sunderer was gone.
But its warning remained.
They were being hunted.
And the Conclave wouldn't send another scout.
Next time, it would be a war.
That night, around a small fire of dried kelp, Rin told them everything.
"The Conclave believes the Sky Rending was caused by too much bonding," she said, voice low. "They think emotions between humans and Pokémon destabilized reality. Their goal isn't just to study synchronization—they want to reverse it. Across all seven regions."
Yumi signed: They're trying to undo the world.
Rin nodded. "And you, Teo… you're the first host to achieve true synchronization without coercion. To them, you're either the cure… or the disease."
Teo stared into the flames, his left arm still numb where the Sunderer had touched him.
He thought of his lola's face—still blurry, but the love remained.
He thought of Lucario's trust.
Of Yumi's silence.
Of Rin's defiance.
They weren't just allies.
They were a counter-thesis.
To the Conclave's cold logic.
To Veyra's hollow freedom.
To Kaelen's purified emptiness.
They believed in bonds—messy, fragile, painful, beautiful bonds.
And that belief was worth fighting for.
He stood.
"We keep moving," he said. "To the Heartscar Peaks. If the Rending started there, answers will be there too."
Lucario rose beside him.
Yumi packed her satchel.
Rin wiped her eyes and stood, shoulders straight.
"I'm coming with you," she said. "Not as an acolyte. As a partner."
Teo looked at her. "You sure? It's not safe."
Rin smiled faintly. "Nowhere is. But with you… I remember who I am."
Above them, the crimson sky pulsed like a heartbeat.
And far to the west, in a chamber of black stone and stolen light, the Veiled Conclave convened.
Order issued: Deploy the Hollow Choir.
Objective: Extract Mateo Dela Cruz's bond intact.
Authorization: Level Omega.
The war for the soul of the world had begun.