[New Fanfic Is UP!! Uma Musume: Rising From the Countryside to Legend!!]

The next day at the Floccesy Gallery, a few new pieces went on display.

What caught everyone’s eye, what made countless visitors stop in their tracks, was the empty space once reserved next to Burgh’s Volcarona painting—now finally filled. Yet the new artwork wasn’t by Burgh himself.

This painting, as though it had walked straight out of a myth, carried with it the scent of swirling sands and a weighty sense of time. It was now framed and set at the gallery’s most prominent location.

Several artists from across Unova had also come to see the gallery’s new wave of submissions. They had come seeking inspiration, but unexpectedly, what awaited them was a piece that left them deeply shaken.

The painter’s name wasn’t public—only a strange alias was listed. However, some local artists from Floccesy had already uncovered whispers through their connections: yesterday, Burgh had held a rather unusual Gym battle.

After all, the Floccesy Gym was not only a Gym, but also a sacred site of art. And that piece now on display had been transported out from that very Gym. Yesterday’s challenger? There had only been one.

“The first Pokémon to bring fire to humanity was Larvesta.”

“Thus began the worship of the sun.”

“Just how deep has Pokémon shaped human history…”

“Though Volcarona is hailed as the sun itself, it was Larvesta—its larval form—that truly laid the foundations of Unova.”

“The history of humanity is the history of Pokémon.”

“If we lose Pokémon, what would we have left? It would be like abandoning our soul and emotions.”

Such sentiments began to circulate among the people. Artists passionately debated the painting’s meaning, each one drawn to different aspects of the work.

And while the philosophical reflections stirred much thought, the artwork’s use of color was also masterful.

It felt wholly organic—as though reaching out might cause ripples to spread across its surface and pull the viewer into a distant ancient world.

“I feel like I’ve been there before… a world of black and white, where only the people had color. The buildings felt hollow…”

“Haha, sounds like a nightmare born from creative burnout. Y’know there’s a Pokémon called Munna? It’s rarely seen, and some say it might not even exist.”

“Ah, I heard it floats in the air and appears beside pillows late at night to eat nightmares from people and Pokémon. And if it eats your dream, you won’t remember what it was about when you wake up.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ve never met one, because I remember that black and white world all too clearly. Honestly… it didn’t feel like a dream.”

Amid these artistic discussions, some truths of the world subtly revealed themselves. Yet none—neither the artists nor certain hidden observers—noticed the significance buried in their words.

A young man in a newsboy cap and green hair quietly arrived at the exhibition.

He had been in Nimbasa, but returned to Floccesy that morning. Upon hearing that “he” was still around, he decided to stop by the gallery to relax.

N stood before the Larvesta painting, gazing silently at the piece. His eyes grew distant, and his spirit began to waver. The artwork seemed to hold a mystical, time-transcending power. Faint echoes stirred in his ears—echoes that bewitched him, though he could not trace their origin.

The scene depicted in the painting stirred N’s soul.

In the beginning, Pokémon lit the first flame for humanity. Together with Larvesta, humans built the oldest and grandest city in Unova. Civilization was born. Culture took root.

Legends may be ephemeral, but the ruins of the Ancient City were real. Unova’s history now stretched back thousands of years. According to the Nacrene Museum’s research, the Ancient City had thrived until as recently as 2,500 years ago.

“Yes… Pokémon can live without humans. But humans cannot live without Pokémon. So few understand this. Is that what this painting is trying to tell us?”

“Is this a rebuttal of Team Plasma’s beliefs… or a condemnation of my own actions?”

“The world in that painting… it’s so peaceful. There were no humans harming Pokémon… but if history continues, humans will inevitably use Pokémon in wars. That’s already been recorded.”

“Exhibiting this painting is the right decision. More people will understand the human-Pokémon bond. Maybe… just maybe, things will get better. But the ones who cause the most harm will never come see it.”

“A history built on mutual support…”

N suddenly staggered.

Memories of a carefree childhood spent alongside Pokémon resurfaced—before he was “adopted” by Ghetsis. Darmanitan, Woobat, Zorua… they had been his true companions.

Those days felt so long ago. Ever since he had moved into that underground castle, all he heard were the pained cries of Pokémon abused by humans. Their anguish drowned out his oldest memories.

But now… those memories were back. Clearer than ever.

Yes. Humans and Pokémon supported one another. That was the truth worth spreading.

Not this idea that people and Pokémon should be separated. Without either side, history would collapse. The world we knew would cease to exist.

He, too, once had a happy childhood with Pokémon. Even if it was out in the wild, in the forest—he had believed in a hopeful future.

What was the world outside like? He had been so curious.

But later, all he found was hatred and malice.

N clenched the brim of his hat. His breathing turned ragged. The other artists and visitors around him noticed and expressed concern—asking if he needed to rest at the Pokémon Center.

Even the Pokémon present seemed drawn to him. There was something about N that felt familiar—like kin. This instinctual affinity made them trust him, pay more attention to him.

“Thank you, I’m alright.”

N patted the hat of a nearby Smeargle and apologized to the artist beside him. He said he had simply been overwhelmed with emotion. After steadying his breath, he turned to the next set of works.

These pieces, too, were by the same artist behind The First Flame.

But N, still shaken, found tears slipping down his face without realizing. Onlookers assumed he had been moved by the art.

“Strange… why am I crying? No Pokémon was harmed. Everyone here is kind. The Pokémon are happy. I just remembered some old childhood memory…”

“Why do I want to cry? Why? Is this a new kind of equation? I… don’t understand.”

Though confused, N wiped his tears and turned his full attention to the next exhibition.

One piece was a statue. Like the painting, it radiated an aura of ancient times. Though labeled as a reproduction, it felt as though it had truly lived through a surreal, bygone era.

Title: Hero and Repentance

The title caught N’s interest immediately. But the figures depicted weren’t the twin princes of Unova’s founding myth. They had nothing to do with Truth and Ideals, yet they were still two individuals.

They came from the distant Sinnoh region. One was marked as a hero of ancient Sinnoh. The other—a forgotten soul of history, the first to repent.

Most sculptors might’ve portrayed them as two sides of the same person—a common artistic technique. But N could tell that wasn’t the case.

This piece explicitly stated they were different people, from different times, who made opposite choices—each leaving behind contrasting legacies.

“In ancient Sinnoh, a hero once led ten Pokémon in a challenge against Sinnoh’s deity. In that great war, humankind proved their strength. Sinnoh acknowledged it—and returned to a realm beyond mortal reach.”

“The Repenter of Veilstone…”

“Ah! You’re curious about this one, aren’t you?” Burgh suddenly appeared beside N. “If you don’t mind, I can explain what this statue is depicting.”

“It’s from a long-forgotten piece of Sinnoh history—something the artist personally told me. Apparently, even in Sinnoh, this legend is barely known.”

“The artist said this statue represents a historical choice. It was designed to help people in moments of uncertainty see the world through a new lens—maybe even step outside their own mental boundaries.”

“Sounds incredible, I know. I’m not sure if it’s true either. But when you look at it, you do feel something—an invisible force, perhaps. Or maybe that’s just me.”

N looked curiously at Burgh. The man clearly hadn’t recognized him—of course not. As the leader of Team Plasma, N wasn’t someone who showed up in the news. He had waited until Officer Jenny cleared the scene before revealing himself during his meeting with Hikaru.

N: “I am curious… even the hero’s story has been lost?”

Burgh: “Yes. This statue shows the hero on the left, standing tall, raising a sheathed sword. Pokémon silhouettes hover around him. On the right is the repentant one—kneeling with a broken sword stabbed into the earth. Alone.”

“It’s an asymmetrical statue.”

“The figure on the right is said to come from Veilstone—an ancient myth with no surviving name.”

“A long time ago—older than the hero’s era—a youth came into possession of a sword. He hunted Pokémon recklessly for food.”

“What he couldn’t eat, he discarded. Within a year, he could find no Pokémon at all. They had vanished.”

“He journeyed across mountains and rivers—until he finally found one.”

“He asked: Why have you disappeared?”

“The Pokémon replied: You once hurt my kin with your blade. So now we must use our claws and fangs against your kin.”

“Don’t blame us. We’re only protecting our own.”

“The youth cried out: Since I gained this sword, I forgot… that you are living beings too.”

“I vow never to do this again. This sword has no more place in my life. Please… forgive me.”

He smashed the blade into the ground. It broke. The Pokémon vanished.

N was quiet for a moment.

People who hurt Pokémon—even if it was in the distant past—were still inexcusable. But this man had faced his wrongdoing. The sword wasn’t just a weapon—it was a symbol of harm.

And in the end… the Pokémon did not forgive him.

Burgh: “If humans and Pokémon are enemies, they will only hurt each other. But if they support each other, they can create history—and even defeat gods from myth. I don’t know what ‘Sinnoh’ really means, but the artist said it refers to a deity.”

N: “A Pokémon revered as a god… even the dragons of Unova’s founding myth are called by such names.”

Burgh chuckled: “Right? Maybe it was a Pokémon. Or perhaps a spiritual icon created by ancient Sinnoh folk—just like how we worship Larvesta, the sun, and the dragons.”

“Much later, the hero on the left emerged. As I said, he challenged the deity known as Sinnoh. Humanity and Pokémon understood each other once more. The past was buried, and a new era began.”

N finally understood the statue’s message. Burgh’s explanation had made it clear.

It was a direct rebuttal of Team Plasma’s ideals—again, told through myth. Two ancient figures. Two different times. Two diverging paths.

Burgh: “I’ve heard… that across the distant sea, the languages of Sinnoh, Kanto, Johto, and Hoenn all evolved from the voices of Pokémon.”

N’s eyes widened.

Burgh scratched his cheek. “It sounds absurd, I know. But the artist showed me proof—research papers from those regions. They say Pokémon understood us because human language originated from their cries.”

“Human speech wasn’t something Pokémon learned. We learned from them.”

“And you know what else? The artist claimed he met a Meowth that could speak human language. Honestly, it sounds like a fairytale—but coming from him, I believe it. That Meowth might really exist.”

“A talking Meowth… academia would explode with that revelation. It’d be a huge philosophical debate. But come to think of it, some Pokémon can already use telepathy. Doesn’t that mean they could learn our language?”

“And probably do it quickly.”

“Ah! Sorry, I just mean to say—humans and Pokémon have always been inseparable. From the very beginning, we were one. To harm Pokémon is to harm ourselves. That’s what this statue means. From language to civilization—from past to future.”

“Even if Unova’s script differs slightly from other regions, our histories likely follow the same pattern.”

N nodded, solemnly observing the statue. After Burgh’s explanation, he felt a deep, inexplicable connection—something real and personal.

Childhood memories returned once more. This time, alongside strange things Ghetsis had once said. Questions stirred in N’s mind.

Equations without solutions.

“Oh, how fascinating! I’ve never seen clothing like this!”

A familiar voice made Burgh turn.

“Ah—you’re here?! That was fast!”

To his surprise, one of the gallery visitors—despite a basic disguise of coat, hat, and mask—was none other than his colleague.

The shining beauty of Nimbasa City—Roxie!

Known globally as a top model and Gym Leader of Nimbasa, she was a beloved idol among young women. Posters of her adorned the city. She appeared on TV daily.

But privately, she was shy, awkward in social situations, and didn’t express herself well.

She had taken up battling Pokémon to vent her pressure… and in doing so, became a Gym Leader. She also loved collecting plushies and electric toys.

Burgh had personally invited her.

“As a model, I constantly observe trends. I watch for new fashion and styling, so I never miss a wave. If you recommended this gallery’s new display, Burgh—I had to come. But this isn’t a vacation. I need to head back to Nimbasa by tonight.”

Aside from being a top artist, Burgh was also a fashion designer. His Pokémon—Sewaddle and Swadloon—were adored mascots among designers, known for their leaf-clothing skills. They were his creative partners.

And the clothes they made?

Naturally, Roxie wore them.

Dressed in a coat, wide-brim hat, and mask, she eyed a special outfit on display—then glanced at the pensive N.

Even in a crowd, this person’s presence stood out. Was he the reason Burgh had called her?

He radiated a tragic, noble aura. But after seeing the statue, that aura seemed to have softened.

“You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”

Burgh suddenly realized she probably didn’t just arrive.

Roxie: “I wanted to see other pieces. I saw you were busy with guests, so I didn’t interrupt.”

“So, what’s the concept behind this outfit?” This соntеnt is hоstеd аt

Burgh: “Dragons. Made from a dreamlike fabric called ‘Dragon Cloth.'”

“The creator says viewers might rediscover lost convictions when they see it.”

“It was inspired by the twin dragons of Unova’s founding myth. Honestly, even I was shocked—it supposedly strengthens your bond with Pokémon and helps communicate emotion.”

At that, N quietly looked up again.

Roxie: “It does resemble the aesthetic of that Kalos designer, Valerie. Not entirely modern urban, but with a retro flair.”

“The outfit’s name is EX: Black & White Crossroads.”

Valerie was renowned in the fashion world, despite her youth. Though Kalos and Unova had grown distant, she remained a household name in every magazine—Roxie never missed an issue.

Burgh: “It may be a bit heavy in theme for vibrant, lively Nimbasa.”

Roxie stared at the piece, her lips curling into a smile.

“No. I’d love to wear it. So tell me—has your Swadloon finished the replica version?”

“There’s a show soon… I feel like this piece might spark the next big trend.”

“Also, introduce me to that artist, will you? Oh, and by the way—the new Psychic Elite Four gifted me something recently. Feeling my cheerful aura now? Yep, all the unstable stuff has been dealt with.”

“It’s a weird big-headed doll. Kinda goofy. But cute once you get used to it.”

Burgh: “That’s a shame. The artist had to leave Floccesy temporarily. But next time…”

And while they weren’t paying attention, N slipped away quietly.

Nimbasa… Team Plasma’s next rally would be held there. Though a city of entertainment, it also housed the Battle Subway—a place of brutal combat that hurt countless Pokémon.

But this rally was just routine.

After the failure in Floccesy, they needed to tread carefully in Nimbasa, Castelia, and Driftveil. Better send Sage Rood—his persuasion was unmatched.

“I want to go to the Battle Subway,” N muttered to himself.

Not to destroy it. Team Plasma wasn’t in a position for open conflict.

He just… wanted to see it. To hear the voices of the Pokémon there.

Just that.

(End of Chapter)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep