Pokemon : Negative Emotion System

Everyone turned to stare blankly at David.

He stood there, blinking innocently, with the expression of a guy who just opened a door and found a flaming Gyarados tax office on the other side.

"What?" he asked, as if he were the victim here. "Don't look at me like that. This time, it's really not my fault!"

He pointed dramatically at Tom. "Blame him! He's got those magical Evolutionary Feet! Kick one fish, and boom—dragon apocalypse!"

Tom frowned. "Bro, how is this my ability now?"

David ignored him completely, nodding like a philosopher mid-breakthrough. "The Magikarp were already on edge thanks to the jet cube… and then Tom gave one a spiritual awakening via dropkick. What happened next is clearly cause and effect."

The others remained unconvinced.

Ling Qi sighed hard, rubbing his forehead as if trying to press out the headache. "Alright, arguing won't help. Let's just focus on figuring out where we even are right now."

Everyone looked around.

The cave they'd landed in was gloomy and vast, the stone walls jagged and natural, worn by time or wind—or possibly Gyarados tantrums. The air felt cooler here, and the echo of each footstep bounced too many times. This wasn't any part of the Mystery Zone they recognized.

"I've been to West Lake's Mystery Zone dozens of times," Ling Qi muttered. "Never seen a place like this."

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the oddly smooth stone. "Looks like natural erosion… or ancient ruins?"

He turned toward Ralts, who was perched on David's shoulder nibbling on the edge of his hoodie like popcorn. "Ralts, are you sure you didn't teleport us deeper into the Mystery Zone?"

"Lalu!" Ralts shook her little head rapidly, cheeks puffed out in panic. She raised both hands like whoa, don't blame me, and made exaggerated gestures to indicate her limited psychic range.

"She says we didn't go far," David translated, giving her a thumbs-up. "Like, maybe a kilometer. Two tops. It's not like she fast-traveled us across the region or anything."

Ling Qi sighed. "So we're still in the same zone... just somewhere unmarked. Great."

No one said it out loud, but the whole group began subtly gravitating toward the middle—closer to each other, just in case something decided to pop out from the darkness.

Tom, now walking carefully beside David, whispered, "So… do you think there are more Gyarados down here?"

David squinted into the shadows. "I dunno, but if you see a puddle, don't kick it."

They continued onward, carefully winding through the damp cavern path. About ten minutes later, they reached a fork in the tunnel—two passageways, both dark, both slightly ominous.

David suddenly stopped walking. His eyes flickered for a moment—only he could see the familiar blue interface of his system flashing before him.

[System Alert: Two kilometers ahead, ancient Pokémon fossils detected!]

His eyes lit up. Jackpot.

"Captain, which way should we go?" one of the Trainers asked, gesturing at the split.

Ling Qi paused, about to study the terrain like a responsible leader. But just before he could speak—

"Wait, wait, hold it!" David raised a hand dramatically. "Let me decide."

Everyone turned slowly toward him. There was… concern.

David stepped forward with solemnity, hands clasped behind his back like a wandering sage.

"Let me perform… a divination."

Ling Qi frowned. "You can do divination now?"

"A little bit." David shrugged modestly. "Tiny bit. Just the basics of shoe-based fate reading."

Before anyone could stop him, he kicked off one sneaker, tossed it into the air, and watched it spin like a slow-mo RPG dice roll.

Thud!

It landed awkwardly, the toe pointing down the right-hand path.

David nodded sagely. "The universe has spoken."

Ling Qi pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not a real—"

"Wait!" David shouted dramatically. He picked up the shoe again, shook his head fiercely. "No, no, I reject this fate. I control my destiny!"

He chucked the shoe again.

Thump.

This time, it pointed left.

David nodded with intense seriousness. "Yes. That is the path."

Everyone stared in complete silence.

A long beat passed.

"…You threw it again because you didn't like the first answer?" Luna asked, her eye twitching.

David placed a hand over his heart. "It's called emotional intuition. You wouldn't understand."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Bro, even Ralts is embarrassed for you."

Ling Qi gave up. He waved toward the left path, grumbling, "Fine. We go left. Whatever makes the chaos end."

The group reluctantly trudged toward the left tunnel, shaking their heads. The Trainers muttered among themselves.

"Did he just toss a shoe and call it prophecy?"

"I think so."

"I swear, if we get attacked by cave Zubats, I'm blaming the footwear."

Ling Qi walked silently beside David now, eyeing him sideways.

The man had angered Ursaring horde and gave them diarrhea. He'd evolved a bunch of flopping fish into a Gyarados horde with laxative treats. He'd teleported them all into an uncharted cavern. And now, he was playing coin toss with his shoes to decide directions.

Yet somehow… he was still alive.

Ling Qi exhaled slowly.

"Good people die young. Evil live forever," he muttered.

David smiled proudly beside him, completely unaware he was the evil in question.

*****

At that moment, David suddenly heard the familiar ding-ding-ding sound echoing in his head.

[You've received +199 negative emotion points from Jake...]

[You've received +200 negative emotion points from LeBron...]

[You've received +200 negative emotion points from Katie...]

David blinked. "Huh?"

He frowned. Those were some serious rage numbers. Negative emotions flying in from all directions? Something wasn't right. He hadn't even done anything stupid in the last five minutes—which, in his case, was practically a record.

A sinking feeling hit his stomach.

"Wait a minute…" he muttered. "Don't tell me the Gyarados horde's still mad… and found someone else to barbecue?"

Meanwhile, not too far away…

The Gyarados army was still in full fury mode, floating above the lake like angry sky serpents. Their prey? Gone. Teleported out. Vanished like cowards in the face of gastrointestinal vengeance.

And that made them even angrier.

One Gyarados screeched furiously, shooting a Hyper Beam into the sky like it was trying to vaporize the sun. Another flailed midair, clearly suffering flashbacks of the jet cube-induced trauma. Their glowing red eyes scanned the lakefront in search of someone—anyone—to take out their rage on.

That someone?

Jake.

Poor, clueless Jake.

Booted out of the garrison camp early that morning for reasons still unclear (but probably involving onions and a loud disagreement about mayonnaise), Jake had stormed into the Mystery Zone with nothing but a grudge and his Common-level Onix.

He'd been wandering near a peaceful lake, finally ready to take a break and eat some sad trail mix, when—

ROOOOAAAAAR!!!

The earth trembled beneath his boots. The sky suddenly went dark—not with clouds, but with Gyarados.

Lots of Gyarados.

Jake looked up, eyes squinting.

"Can Gyarados… fly?"

That was all he managed to say before his nose was assaulted by the most gut-wrenching, tear-inducing, soul-destroying stench he had ever encountered. His legs locked up.

From the trees, a frantic group of Trainers came sprinting past, yelling like their lives depended on it—which, to be fair, they did.

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

"Gyarados horde's gone ballistic!!"

"Who the hell fed them spicy laxatives?!"

"LOOK OUT! IT'S RAINING GYARADOS DUMP!!!"

Jake barely had time to process that last line before a glob of something horrifying splatted onto the rock beside him.

He screamed.

High-pitched.

Unashamed.

And then he ran.

Behind him, the aerial Gyarados squad was in full revenge mode. Not only were they hurling Hyper Beams like they were handing out candy at a parade—they were also, quite literally, dropping "bombs" on the landscape as they passed.

"THIS IS A WAR ZONE!" Jake screamed, flailing his arms as he tripped over a branch. "I JUST WANTED TO SEE A RARE BUTTERFREE, NOT GET POOPED ON BY SKY DRAGONS!"

The forest behind him lit up with explosive blasts. One particularly angry Gyarados took out a tree with a Hyper Beam, then let loose with a splash of yellowish goo that flattened a bush like a pancake.

Jake ran faster.

"I'M SORRY, MOM!" he cried into the wind. "YOU WERE RIGHT! I SHOULD'VE BEEN AN ACCOUNTANT!"

As he dodged another beam of destruction and slipped through a field of mushrooms that were never meant to be that wet, Jake made a vow—one born from trauma, regret, and maybe just a little bit of lactose intolerance.

"If I survive this," he gasped, "I swear—I will never enter a Mystery Zone again! I'll go back to selling incense with Grandma!"

But fate wasn't done with him.

From above, another Gyarados spiraled, eyes burning with vengeance. It locked onto Jake like a heat-seeking missile and blasted another Hyper Beam, scorching the ground just inches from his feet.

Jake stumbled and rolled behind a rock.

He peeked out just in time to see three Gyarados hovering over the lake, snarling as they belched more destruction at the surrounding forest.

"WHY DO THEY ALL KNOW HYPER BEAM?!" Jake howled. "WHO GAVE THEM THE TM FOR THAT?!"

At this point, he was beyond fear. He was in survival autopilot. Sweat clung to his face. Leaves clung to his shirt. His pride had long since abandoned him.

Then he smelled it again.

That same apocalyptic stench. It was getting closer.

Jake turned to run—only for a sloppy splat to land right beside his shoe.

"…I think I've seen hell," he whispered, dead-eyed. "And it smells like fermented Gyarados protein."

He took off again, this time at full sprint, eyes wide, mouth foaming, his Onix left far behind like a discarded sidekick in a disaster movie.

"IF I DIE OUT HERE, I'M HAUNTING WHOEVER FED THEM THAT JET CUBE!!" he screamed into the void.

Back in the dark cavern…

David scratched his head.

"Still getting emotion points…" he murmured. "Huh."

He grinned. "Guess Jake's okay, right? I mean, at least he's feeling something!"

****

Deep within the forgotten corners of the Mystery Zone, where the mist hung thick and the trees twisted unnaturally, there stood a small, decrepit wooden hut. The windows were smashed, the roof was half-caved in, and it looked like a strong sneeze could knock the entire place over.

But it wasn't the hut that was terrifying.

It was what was in front of it.

The Pokémon that once filled this hut—illegally detained, mistreated, and caged—were long gone. In their place now stood four towering beasts, Pokémon so large they made the trees look like chopsticks.

Alakazam. Nidoking. Rhyperior. Dracovish.

Each of them had bulked up beyond normal Gigantamax limits, but this wasn't just size enhancement—this was something else entirely. Black, jagged magical lines pulsed across their skin like tattoos scribbled by a demon child with a Sharpie. Their eyes glowed an unnatural red, and their bodies twitched with barely-contained power, like they were ready to snap at any second.

And standing in front of them, smiling with a face that screamed, "I drink cold brew straight from the pot," was a man cloaked in jet-black robes.

His skeletal hands rested calmly behind his back as he observed the four corrupted Pokémon with an expression that could only be described as gleeful insanity.

"Yes… yes, my beautiful monsters," he whispered, voice like sandpaper dipped in ice water. "Go. Bring chaos. Let the Alliance taste despair again. Let them choke on the power they laughed at, mocked, discarded."

He pulled out a photo frame from his cloak, the glass cracked, the image inside partially obscured by dust and scratches. His bony fingers lovingly traced it, his expression momentarily softening into something eerie and nostalgic.

"I wonder," he murmured, "when you see the news… what kind of face will you make this time?"

Then, without another word, the man flicked his robe—and vanished.

He reappeared moments later, materializing inside a cavern so vast it seemed to have its own atmosphere. The temperature dropped. The air was thick. Sand danced across the rocky floor as if stirred by some invisible wind.

And in the center of the cave, half-buried in the dust and shadows… was her.

A colossal Pokémon with emerald-green armor dulled by time, battered and broken. Spikes once proud and jagged were now snapped. Her chestplate, once a symbol of might, bore a gaping, charred hole the size of a clenched fist.

Tyranitar.

The Desert Tyrant.

But this Tyranitar didn't roar with pride—it groaned with pain. Her eyes were bloodshot with fury and exhaustion. Despite her state, she dragged herself to her feet as the man in black stepped forward.

Behind her, nestled in the sand, lay a glowing egg. Its shell shimmered faintly yellow with streaks of green, radiating warmth and hope—the very reason she still stood.

She would defend it. No matter what.

The robed man merely chuckled. "Oh come now, don't be so dramatic," he said in a voice dripping with mock kindness. "Tyranitar, you've ruled long enough. This kingdom of dust you cling to… it's over."

"RAAAGH!"

Tyranitar didn't wait for another word. Her mouth opened wide, and a beam of raw white energy formed—a Hyper Beam, charged with all her remaining strength.

It surged forward with the roar of an earthquake.

But the black-robed man didn't flinch. Instead, he sighed… and snapped his fingers.

"Dusknoir," he said softly. "End this."

Like a shadow peeling off the cave wall, a monstrous Dusknoir emerged behind him, its singular red eye glowing with chilling intensity. The mouth etched into its stomach opened wide, revealing a darkness that seemed to suck the light from the cave.

Dusknoir raised its hands.

Dark, spiraling energy gathered into its palms, swirling faster and faster until it condensed into a single beam of concentrated death.

The beam exploded forward, piercing through the air like a laser from the underworld.

It struck Tyranitar square in the chest—right through the already-damaged armor.

Crack.

Her body jerked. Her legs gave out. The sand around her scattered as she crumpled into it, bloodied, broken, but eyes still burning.

The man in black walked calmly past her fallen form, toward the egg.

He crouched down, inspecting it like it was a rare collectible from a museum rather than the last hope of a dying Pokémon.

"Don't worry," he said gently. "I'll make sure your child is useful."

"RAHHHH!!!"

Tyranitar roared one last time, her voice echoing with fury and helplessness. But she couldn't move. Her energy core had been shattered. Dusknoir's beam had ended any hope of retaliation.

All she could do now was lie there, broken, watching as her enemy reached for her child.

The cave fell quiet, save for the wind whispering through the cracks.

And Tyranitar, once a queen, now waited silently—for the end.

****

Elsewhere in the Mystery Zone...

All hell had broken loose.

The Ursarings—massive, grumpy bears on a good day—were now in full-on rampage mode, tearing through the garrison camp like it owed them rent. Roars echoed through the valley as trees fell, tents flew, and Trainers screamed.

And just when it couldn't get worse… it did.

Dozens of Trainers, originally scattered throughout the Mystery Zone, had started returning from their adventures, only to find a massive wall of angry bear waiting at the camp's entrance.

"Wait—what the heck? Why are Ursarings going crazy too?!" one of the Trainers yelled, practically bouncing on his toes.

"Ursarings are usually lone wolves!" another Trainer shouted. "This many going berserk at once? Something's not right!"

"Anyone got a Flying Pokémon?!" someone else asked desperately. "We need air support—NOW!"

Meanwhile, inside the camp, Commander Grant was chewing on his last nerve.

He had just finished repelling a rogue Beedrill swarm with a fly swatter and a half-melted coffee mug when he noticed the sudden crowd of returning Trainers.

He blinked twice, then swore under his breath. "Rhyperior! Hold those bears off! Let the Trainers get through!"

Rhyperior stomped forward, flexing like a WWE champion preparing for his entrance music. The Ursarings snarled and scattered slightly—but it wasn't enough. They weren't just angry. They were personal.

And then...

"Wait, what's that smell?"

"Oh god, no—this is familiar…"

"Is that—oh no. IT IS! It's them! THE SKY TURDS HAVE RETURNED!"

Trainers who had barely escaped the flying Gyarados air raid earlier began flooding the camp, clutching their noses, retching, or just lying flat on the dirt hoping to forget what they'd seen.

Jake, for one, was barely recognizable.

His entire outfit had been dyed a shade somewhere between "banana peel" and "nightmare mustard." He looked like he'd been dunked in a septic tank and then tumble-dried in despair.

The Ursarings saw him… and something clicked.

They stopped attacking everyone else.

Their beady red eyes locked onto Jake like he was the reason they hadn't had coffee that morning.

One of them picked up a steaming dung ball—yes, a literal one—and hurled it at him with terrifying precision. SPLAT.

Jake didn't even scream. He just collapsed to his knees, staring into the void.

Commander Grant, half-choking from the stench, turned to the incoming Trainers, desperate for clarity.

"What the hell happened out there?! Why are you all running back?!"

One Trainer, panting like he'd just done five marathons, lifted a shaking hand toward the sky.

"I-I-I can't—just... just look up."

Commander Grant looked.

And then regretted it immediately.

A swarm of flying Gyarados—massive, angry, diarrheic Gyarados—cast a shadow over the entire camp. Their scales shimmered like nightmares dipped in glitter. Their eyes glowed with vengeance. And from above…

"INCOMING!"

A Hyper Beam shot from the sky, headed straight for Grant's tent.

"Rhyperior! PROTECT!"

Rhyperior grunted, throwing up a bright green shield just in time. The beam slammed into the barrier like a wrecking ball, sending tremors through the earth. Grant stumbled but held his ground.

Silence fell for a moment, but it was a heavy, suffocating kind.

No one said it out loud, but they all thought the same thing: This was no longer a mission. This was survival.

And then—because the universe apparently wasn't finished kicking them—they heard it.

BOOOOOOM!

From beyond the trees, a massive rumble shook the earth. Trees snapped like twigs. A mountain-sized silhouette loomed in the distance, stomping toward the garrison.

"What the—what now?!" someone screamed.

Through the thick smoke and fire, four colossal shapes emerged, their forms blurred by heat and destruction. Pokémon—but not any normal kind.

They were monstrous. Corrupted. Their bodies glowed with strange black markings, pulsing like infected veins. Each step they took left a crater in the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE?!"

"They look like Pokémon—but on steroids and vengeance!"

"ARE WE IN A MOVIE?! IS THIS THE APOCALYPSE?!"

The camp exploded into chaos. Trainers screamed. Some cried. A few held each other and wailed like they were watching the finale of a tragic K-drama. Others made a break for the exit—only to find it sealed.

The air grew thick with panic and desperation.

Commander Grant stared at the monsters with wide eyes, heart pounding. "Evacuate the civilians. Get them out of the Mystery Zone—now!"

But just as the order was given, his second-in-command—a lanky guy with suspiciously calm eyes—turned slowly toward him. And smiled.

It wasn't a friendly smile.

It was the smile of someone who replaced your shampoo with glue and watched you discover it live on camera.

A raspy, unnatural voice crawled out of the man's throat. "It's no use. The Mystery Zone is sealed. No one gets out. No one gets in."

Grant's blood ran cold.

"…You're not my deputy."

The man in disguise gave a slight bow. "Correct. He was… less cooperative."

Grant took a shaky breath. "What about the Pokémon guards in this area? The ones who protect the zone from threats like this?"

The imposter sneered. "You mean the guardian? Oh, I wouldn't count on them showing up. If it were alive… I think you'd have seen it by now."

For a moment, the commander's expression cracked. His hands trembled.

But then he clenched his fists.

No. He refused to believe that. If the guardian was truly gone…

Then no one—not him, not the civilians, not even the elite Trainers—stood a chance against those four corrupted giants.

He shook the thought out of his head.

They're not dead. They can't be.

But deep down… even Grant felt the first chilling touch of despair.