We didn't say anything about the event.
Nothing about how the floor gave out. Nothing about the Red Chain. Nothing about… that.
And somehow, that silence said more than anything we could have.
Jubilife Village carried on like nothing had changed.
But something had.
I felt it in the way she walked just a step closer than before. In the way my hand kept drifting to the fragment at my chest, like I needed to remind myself it was still there.
But the problem wasn't that things had changed between us.
It was that they hadn't changed enough.
Akari still snapped at me. I still answered back as we moved through the village like we always had—like nothing had shifted.
But every now and then, her shoulder brushed mine… and neither of us pulled away. We didn't want to, and I think we knew that.
Life in the village carried on regardless.
A Kricketot's cry drifted in from the pastures, soft and rhythmic. Training blades clashed somewhere beyond the main road—steady, familiar. Normal.
I squinted slightly as the morning sun peeked over the thatched roofs of the Canala Avenue houses, casting long shadows across the dirt paths.
An elderly woman cautiously opened her sliding door as we walked by, pausing to check for signs of a possible Bidoof that might have gnawed on her porch overnight. After finding none, she began to sweep, the straw bristles scratching a steady, comforting beat against the wood.
Near the main gate, multiple Security Corps guards stood at attention, their posture rigid, their crimson uniforms sharp against the morning mist.
One of them sent a curt nod to a young scout from the Survey Corps who was already checking their satchel—packed with heavy Apricorns, medicinal balms and Iron Chunks—before heading out—too early for an expedition.
At the Wallflower canteen, the sweet smell of Uncle Beni's Potato Mochi begins to waft through the air, drawing in a few early-rising workers. Near the river, a Machoke helped a construction worker lift heavy timber, their breaths misting in the cool air—a small sign of the growing cooperation between humans and Pokémon brought on by the research of our expeditions.
Though as we picked up some mochi, I could sense the discomfort and hear the fearful whispers of the crowd around us.
Across the bridge, the Galaxy Hall looms large and silent, waiting for the day's reports, while the first few Starly flutter down from the eaves, looking for scraps of grain left by the general store. It was quiet.
Strange.
The murmurs from the crowd grew sharp, like the crackle of a dry leaf. Akari's shoulder remained pressed against mine, but her posture had gone rigid. She wasn't looking at the mochi anymore. She was looking at the sky.
The sky bruised.
Blue bled into an ink-black shadow. The morning gold curdled into a sickly, electric violet.
For a heartbeat, the rhythmic sweeping of the elderly woman's broom stopped. The Machoke by the river dropped its timber with a hollow thud, its large head tilting toward the Coronet Highlands in a low, vibrating growl.
Then, the ground didn't just shake—it shifted.
A sound like a massive sheet of glass shattering echoed from the mountain peak, so loud it felt like it started inside my own skull. The fragment of the Red Chain at my chest flared with a cold, piercing heat, pulsing in time with the tremors.
"Look," Akari whispered, her voice barely audible over the rising wind. Her own fragment glowing beneath her scarf.
Far above the Temple of Sinnoh, the very fabric of the sky was tearing. It wasn't a cloud or a storm, but a jagged, bleeding hole in reality. Swirls of dark energy and lightning—colors that shouldn't exist in nature—began to pour out, spiraling downward like a funnel.
The quiet of Jubilife snapped. A Starly shrieked, darting erratically into the eaves, and the first bell of Galaxy Hall began to toll—not for the start of the workday, but in a frantic, clanging alarm.
The Space-Time Rift split apart, screaming. As the shockwave hit the village, blowing open sliding doors and sending dust swirling into the air, I felt the Red Chain pull toward the mountain, as if it were trying to return home.
Akari's hand finally moved, not just brushing my shoulder, but gripping my hand with a white-knuckled intensity. "It's happening again," she said, her eyes fixed on the darkening summit, glaring. "But it's bigger this time."
The street becomes a blur of crimson and blue as we sprint toward the center of the village. The Galaxy Hall looms ahead, no longer a silent sentinel but a hive of panicked activity.
Members of the Security Corps were struggling to keep order as the villagers scrambled for cover, their shouting drowned out by the rhythmic, heavy clanging of the alarm bell.
We rushed into Professor Laventon's office to find him standing on the stone steps, his face pale beneath his hat. He wasn't shouting orders like the others, but was staring at the Coronet Highlands with a hollow, terrified look in his eyes.
"It's not just a rift," he told us, his voice trembling as we reached his side. He didn't even look at us at first, as his gaze fixed on the jagged violet tear pulsing above the peak. "The readings... they're off the charts. It's expanding at an astronomical rate!"
He finally turns to us, his hands shaking as he gripped a satchel of emergency supplies. "The Commander is occupied with the village defenses. You two—you're the only ones who have been that close to the summit and come back. You have to get to the temple. Investigate what's fueling this. If it keeps growing, there won't be a Jubilife left to defend."
He thrusted a handful of Max Revives into Akari's hands, his fingers lingering for a second on Akari's sleeve.
"Please," The professor whispered, the professional veneer finally cracking. "Stay safe. Both of you. Don't try to be heroes if the world is already ending."
Akari nods, her jaw set, and for the first time, she doesn't snap back with a sarcastic remark. She just looks at me, the Red Chain fragment glowing through my tunic like a dying star.
"We're going," Akari says firmly.
As we turn toward the Front Gate, the ground heaves again, throwing a nearby merchant to his knees. The smell of ozone is thick now, sharp and metallic, as the first bolts of unnatural lightning began to strike the ridges of the mountain.
The morning sun was a fleeting memory, replaced by a shifting violet storm as the Space-Time Rift pulse shattered the sky.
My hand stayed fixed to the fragment of the Red Chain, the metal searing through my tunic as Akari and I reached the front gate.
The Security Corps guards were shouting at civilians to fall back, their crimson uniforms dark against the dust. But two figures stood perfectly still in the center of the road, ignoring the chaos.
Adaman didn't have his usual smirk. He stood with his arms crossed, his blue hair whipping in the unnatural wind. Beside him, Irida looked smaller than usual, her gaze locked on the mountain, but her jaw was set in a way that mirrored the jagged peaks.
"The time for sitting in council is over," Adamansaid as we approached. He looked at me, his eyes sharp. "The Diamond Clan doesn't wait for time to run out, Corvin. We're going with you."
Irida stepped forward, her voice low but carrying over the roar of the wind. "My people believe space is the foundation of all things. Right now, that foundation is tearing. If the Temple of Sinnoh falls, there is no Pearl Clan. There is no anything."
She looked at Akari, then me. "You're eighteen, we're eighteen—the elders are too busy praying or arguing. We're the ones with the Pokémon and the legs to climb that mountain."
I shifted my weight, my instinct screaming at the lack of a formal plan. "It's a suicide mission. The Red Chain is reacting to the summit. It might explode before we even get there."
"Then we'll go out with a bang!" Adaman shot back, a ghost of his old self flickering in his eyes. "Better than sitting here watching the sky turn into a grave."
Akari gripped her satchel, her eyes darting between the two leaders before settling on me. "Maybe they're right, Corvin. We might need them. We can't do this alone."
I looked at the three of them—friends, despite the clans and the uniforms. I nodded once, sharp and final. "Fine. Adaman, watch our flank. Irida, you're on supplies. If we're doing this, we're moving now."
"Got it, Boss." Adaman muttered, checking his Poké Balls.
"Stay safe, all of us." We turned toward the Coronet Highlands, four shadows moving against the world.