Lucien sat with the warmth of Xerneas's gift still present in his body, a quiet and steady power moving beneath his skin like deep water. He looked down at his hands.
The feeling was not dramatic. It was simply a settled certainty: his flesh would not decay with time, his vitality would not diminish and drain away the way it did for every human being.
He was rooted now, like an ancient tree that had found the depth of the earth it needed.
"Eternal life," he said softly.
Kyurem landed beside him, its ice-blue eyes without particular expression but with something in them that was not quite neutrality. Something closer to acknowledgment.
Zygarde stood at a distance and watched, still as a marker post, quietly witnessing.
Then Xerneas turned. Its elegant body was already beginning to change, the living warmth that surrounded it intensifying until the whole flower field blazed with it.
Lucien straightened. "Xerneas?"
Within the light, Xerneas's form shifted. The deer shape dissolved, branches and roots emerging, growing upward and outward, until what stood in the center of the flower field was no longer an animal but a tree. Ancient, vast, and utterly still.
The voice came on the wind, already fading.
"Lucien. I am a little tired. I will sleep for a while. When I wake, I will come and see the world you have built."
Then the Tree of Life was silent. Xerneas, having given away what it had given, settled into its long sleep. By the time it woke again, it would probably be thousands of years from now.
Lucien stood in the flower field and looked at the great tree for a long moment.
"I know," he said quietly.
The life force in the forest began to calm around him. The flowers continued to sway. The clear fragrance stayed in the air.
He turned to Zygarde. "Thank you."
Zygarde gave a small nod. Then it turned and left without ceremony, returning to the work of monitoring the entire ecosystem of Kalos. Lucien watched it disappear into the trees.
"Let's go back," he said to Kyurem.
He mounted, the cold wind settling around his robes. The Prison Bottle was secure against his chest. Somewhere inside its Poké Ball, Hoopa was still making its displeasure known in various small ways.
Kyurem spread its wings and lifted them into the open sky. The Kalos land shrank beneath them, and the ocean opened ahead, vast and grey-blue, and across it, the coast of Galar appeared through the mist.
Before long, Slumbering Town came into view.
It was larger than when he had left. The construction had continued, the streets fuller, the walls extended, the fields outside the city pushing further into the surrounding land.
Humans and Pokémon moved through it in the easy, habitual way of people who have been doing this long enough that it no longer requires thought.
The moment Kyurem descended toward the city lord's mansion, Zacian, Zamazenta, and Calyrex emerged from their respective quarters, recognizing the presence before it had fully landed.
Chelsea had spotted Kyurem's silhouette from across the city and was already leading people forward to meet him.
Lucien stepped down and gave the assembled group a small nod. "What has the Galar Royal Family been doing while I was away?"
Chelsea reported efficiently. "Your Majesty, our scouts have confirmed that troops from various parts of Galar are consolidating at the fortresses nearest to Slumbering Town."
"Paty IV is getting restless, then." Lucien considered this without urgency. "Should we request reinforcements from Unova?"
"We considered it, Your Majesty."
He shook his head. Geralt and the Legion were occupied with the Kanto Region's Pokémon League establishment, and the Pokémon League Trainers stationed in Unova were sufficient for domestic stability.
Here in Galar, what they had was enough. A royal family rattling its swords at the border did not require a significant response.
"Leave it for now," Lucien said. "The most pressing matter is Zacian and Zamazenta's weapons. We need to be ready before the Darkest Day arrives."
He turned to face the questioning eyes of several Pokémon and reached for two Poké Balls.
Melmetal and Hoopa materialized side by side.
Melmetal absorbed the unfamiliar surroundings with its customary heavy stillness. Hoopa, on the other hand, emerged at full volume.
"Let go of me, you terrible human—!"
Calyrex, Zacian, Zamazenta, and Chelsea all turned to look at it with varying degrees of surprise.
"Your Majesty, what is...?"
"Hoopa," Lucien said simply.
While Hoopa was still mid-sentence, Lucien produced a donut and placed it directly into the open mouth.
The sentence stopped.
Hoopa stood very still. Its eyes went wide. The hands that had been raised in indignation froze in mid-air. It chewed once, slowly. The fluffy sweetness, the milk and malt, the warmth of it, spread across its tongue and erased everything else completely.
"Mmm." A pause. "Mmm?"
It chewed again, eyes now fully round, all previous fury suspended in place like something that had been set down and would need to be picked back up later, but not right now.
Calyrex cleared its throat with the expression of someone who has witnessed something they were not entirely prepared for.
Zacian and Zamazenta looked at each other. Something passed between them in the silence that neither of them had a word for.
Chelsea's mouth moved slightly. "His Majesty's methods of establishing rapport with Pokémon are," she murmured to herself, "unique."
Lucien watched Hoopa consume the donut with complete, blissful absorption and allowed himself a quiet, dry amusement.
"Behave yourself and you get to eat. Cause trouble, and it's back into the Poké Ball." He withdrew his hand. "That's the arrangement."
Hoopa made several sounds around the remains of the donut that could have meant anything. It did not particularly want to go back into the Poké Ball.
The situation was obvious to Hoopa even without anyone spelling it out. Too many powerful Pokémon around it, no realistic path to escape, and most of its strength drained away and sealed inside a bottle. There was nothing to be done about any of it.
So Hoopa sat in the corner of the courtyard, hugging what remained of its donut and gnawing at it with the particular wounded dignity of a creature whose territory has been taken and who cannot fight back, expressing its dissatisfaction the only way currently available to it.
Lucien left it to this and turned to Melmetal.
The Steel-type stood in the courtyard like a pillar of cold iron, its liquid-metal body emitting a steady silver light, the key nuts at its joints rotating slowly. Even at rest, the weight of the power within it was palpable, something that pressed against the air around it without effort.
"This is Melmetal," Lucien said to the assembled group. "It controls metal and shapes it through its inherent power. For the time ahead, it will be staying here to forge weapons for you two."
Zacian and Zamazenta bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgment. They could feel it clearly, the depth of Melmetal's strength, something that went beyond ordinary combat capacity entirely.
Calyrex's eyes moved with quiet understanding. "You mean..."
"Yes," Lucien said. "The Darkest Day is coming. Ordinary weapons won't be sufficient against what Eternatus will unleash." He looked at Zacian and Zamazenta. "I intend to use Melmetal's metal, human craftsmanship, and Calyrex's King's Power to forge weapons made specifically for you. Power sufficient to face Eternatus and the night it brings."
A sharp gleam moved through Zacian's golden eyes. Beside it, Zamazenta's aura deepened, something like anticipation and readiness moving through it in a wave.
Melmetal seemed to understand the words forging and weapons and what was being asked of it. It raised one enormous iron fist slowly, and then brought it down.
A low, resonant clang moved through the courtyard, felt as much as heard. Liquid metal flowed around its body, beginning to glow, a power awakening within it that had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with creation.
Chelsea bowed. "I'll have the city's blacksmiths prepare immediately."
Lucien gave a small nod, then looked at Melmetal. "I'll ask you to work hard in the days ahead."
Melmetal's dark orb turned toward him. It gave one small, unhurried nod.
Chelsea departed. The courtyard held its collective breath.
Lucien looked around at what he had assembled: Zacian, Zamazenta, Calyrex, Kyurem, Melmetal. And in the corner, still working through its donut with an air of studious concentration, Hoopa.
Even unwilling, Hoopa was firmly under control. Against this formation, even Eternatus would be facing something substantial.
He turned toward the corner. "Hoopa."
Hoopa's ears moved. Its head came up slowly, mouth still sticky with sugar. "What? I'm not finished eating yet!"
"When everything is over, I'll prepare a mountain of donuts for you," Lucien said. "But until then: behave yourself, don't cause trouble, and don't attempt to use your rings to escape. If you cooperate, I will return your full power to you."
Hoopa's eyes went wide. The affected sulkiness dropped immediately. "A mountain?!"
"Yes."
"Then... fine! I'll listen to you! Just this once!" It puffed out its small chest with the energy of something that has decided to commit fully to a position. "But you are absolutely not allowed to change your mind. If you do, Hoopa will eat all your donuts."
Lucien laughed quietly and said nothing more. The Prison Bottle was secure against his chest, Hoopa's power was continuously restricted within it, and Kyurem was keeping a steady and completely calm eye on the situation. Hoopa was not going anywhere.
Chelsea returned shortly with the city's best blacksmiths moving quickly behind her. They came around the corner into the courtyard, took in the gathering of Legendary Pokémon standing in it like a forest of divine presence, and went collectively still with their legs threatening to give way. They bowed deeply, not daring to breathe too loudly.
"Your Majesty. Everything is ready."
"Take us to the forge."
The group moved to the large, newly built forging ground behind the city lord's mansion. The furnaces were prepared and waiting, the floor laid with hard stone, supporting pillars standing on all sides.
Lucien stood in the center and looked at Melmetal. "We can begin."
Melmetal stepped forward without ceremony and moved to the furnace. It raised one enormous fist, and the metal composing its arm began to move, the silvery-blue light within it building rapidly.
This was not the heat of ordinary flames. It was the forging power that arose from the very essence of metal itself, pure and absolute, something that had no equivalent in ordinary craftsmanship.
The sound that followed shook the walls.
From Melmetal's palm, drops of extraordinarily pure liquid metal fell, one by one, each one carrying within it an elasticity and strength that no ordinary mineral could approach. The metal hit the ground and held its shape, beginning to form.
The blacksmiths moved immediately, their fires lit, their tools in their hands.
Zacian and Zamazenta stepped forward together. Each of them poured their own power into the forming metal: the will of the golden sword, the will of the silver shield, one sharp and decisive, one dense and immovable, both wrapping around what Melmetal had given.
Calyrex closed its eyes. The King's Power flowed outward from it in a light that was both gentle and absolute, filling the entire forging ground, settling into the metal along with everything else.
"In their name, I entrust to this steel the responsibility of protection and the power to decide."
The flames moved. The divine metal took its first shapes.
Lucien stood among the humans and Pokémon working together and felt something that was not quite pride and not quite peace but held elements of both.
Inside the furnace, it was not only metal and power that were merging. It was belief. It was the bond between different kinds of beings who had chosen to stand together. Whatever emerged from this forge would carry that within it permanently.
These would not simply be Zacian's sword and Zamazenta's shield.
They would be weapons bearing the combined will of humanity and Pokémon, built to cut through darkness and hold the earth intact.
Not far away, Hoopa floated with half a donut in its hands, watching the whole thing with an expression it could not quite account for. It had seen humans competing for power and treasure countless times.
It had seen greed and manipulation and the ugly things people did when they thought they could get away with them.
It had never seen anything like this.
"Strange humans," it muttered softly, and took another bite.
It was, it had to admit, not actually the worst situation it had ever been in.
The light in the forging ground grew brighter as the hours passed. The clashing powers of sword and shield wove together in patterns that made the air itself feel like it was being remade.
Melmetal emitted a low, deep sound of satisfaction. The temperature continued to rise.
Then, after a long while, the light in the furnace reached its peak.
Two streams of radiance broke through the heat in a single moment, one to each side, hanging suspended in the air above the forge with a brilliance that made every person present shade their eyes.
A sword, entirely golden, its blade alive with a sharpness that felt less like metal and more like the concept of cutting itself, resonating perfectly with Zacian's aura.
A shield, heavy and gold-edged, its surface radiating an unyielding force, perfectly matched to Zamazenta's will, the aura around it saying unmistakably that this was a thing that did not break.
Above both, a quality of presence that could only be called royal: Calyrex's King's Power, settled into the weapons like a crown into the forehead it was made for.
The sword and shield cried out together, a sound that reverberated outward from the forging ground, past the city walls, across the fields, until the people and Pokémon of Slumbering Town stopped what they were doing and turned toward the city lord's mansion without knowing why.
Zacian stepped forward. Its head lowered. Its teeth closed gently around the hilt of the sacred sword.
The moment the divine weapon connected with it, golden light engulfed Zacian completely. Its fur blazed with brilliance, golden lines spreading across its body, converging into a crown of light across its head.
The aura that had always been powerful but contained erupted outward without restriction, climbing straight into the sky. Fairy and Steel combined, the pressure of the sword's power reaching every corner of the courtyard.
Hero of Many Battles, Zacian, became Zacian the Crowned Sword.
The sacred sword trembled in its mouth. Every ounce of its power had found its home.
Almost in the same breath, Zamazenta stepped forward. The shield's golden light flowed into its body and spread outward, forming before it the great protective face of what it was meant to be.
The crimson lines across its fur deepened. Its aura settled like a mountain settling into the earth: immovable, absolute, the shield-will fully and finally awake.
Hero of Many Battles, Zamazenta, became Zamazenta the Crowned Shield.