“Hey, wait!”

Skyla called out to Hikaru in shock, her expression one of disbelief. “Y-You’re the legendary hero? The one from Unova’s founding myth—you’re real?”

“Who knows?” Hikaru shrugged with a smile, soothing her concerns. “No need to dwell on those vague things. Whether hero or king, in a battle, we’re just Pokémon Trainers.”

“These days, stuff like that isn’t really in vogue anymore.”

If he had to be honest, he was the Hero of Dreams, and technically the last king of the Ancient Castle.

But in Unova, who would even care about something like that? These identities were only useful when unlocking certain trials; under normal circumstances, passersby wouldn’t pay them any mind.

Skyla’s heart swirled with a small storm of curiosity, growing more and more intense. She quickly followed Hikaru as they entered the Celestial Tower.

The members of Team Plasma had already occupied the area, but they hadn’t clashed with the mourners. Both sides visibly maintained a safe distance from each other.

“Yo!”

Deerling stared blankly at the stairs of the Celestial Tower. It could feel something familiar—undoubtedly, its former Trainer was up there!

Finally, they’d found them. Memories of the past surged in Deerling’s heart, full of confusion.

But at that moment, Hikaru suddenly heard something and stopped in his tracks.

This caused N, who had gone ahead up the stairs, to stop as well.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem? The Team Plasma members here are under Rood’s command—you don’t have to worry, they won’t cause any trouble.”

“It’s not about Team Plasma,” Hikaru replied, his gaze drifting to a particular direction.

“Unspoken emotions… joy, sorrow, longing, regret, happiness—countless feelings swirl like a vortex here. The dreams of people and the souls of Pokémon intertwine.”

“The voices… they’re voices of the departed. Can’t you hear them?”

N blinked, then lowered the brim of his cap.

“…I’m sorry, Lord Hikaru. My powers are limited. I can’t hear them.”

He looked ashamed. Even though he always claimed to understand Pokémon, there were still many things he couldn’t do. And hearing Hikaru’s words now only stirred more curiosity within him.

He could hear the hearts of living Pokémon—but what about the voices of those long gone?

N asked, “You can hear the voices of souls? Is this also a kind of psychic power?”

“Psychic powers can hear them, but so can spiritual powers,” Hikaru corrected him. “I’m not just a psychic—I’m also a spiritualist.”

“In distant Johto and Hoenn, there are people who train in spiritual communication—prayer mediums, ascetics, spirit mediums… They can communicate with the dead and often work with Ghost-type Pokémon. Unlike psychic powers, spiritual abilities can be trained through effort.”

“The tower is filled with unspoken longing. The voices of the dead are the voices of Pokémon.”

In the direction Hikaru gazed, there was a hazy illusion.

It was the ghost of a Pokémon!

In the Pokémon world, this wasn’t uncommon—from the “unbattleable ghost” in Lavender Town to the ghost of a Mimikyu in the Alola anime, it was clear Pokémon souls could linger in the world.

As a spirit medium, Hikaru understood this well. In Mt. Pyre, countless spirits still wandered. In Johto, he had even met Youlin’s thousand-year-old soul.

Usually, these spirits would be taken away by Dusknoir, the spirit world’s “civil servants,” so they wouldn’t linger long—but in certain special places, souls could remain for a long time. It meant the spirit world wasn’t heartless or cold.

“Celestial Tower is a place where Trainers pray for their departed Pokémon to rest in peace. It’s a sacred place filled with longing from the living. That’s why your senses grow sharper to life and death here,” Skyla explained softly.

Yet she followed Hikaru’s gaze and saw nothing.

“Use this.”

Hikaru pulled out a Silph Scope from his bag. Skyla blinked at the device—it looked a bit like a pilot’s helmet—but didn’t hesitate to put it on.

And instantly, she saw the ghost of a Pokémon clearly.

“Ah! I see it!”

“It’s Munna,” Hikaru said, waving toward the ghost. The spirit Munna curiously floated over to him.

It could feel it—this person could hear its voice and see its form.

Ordinary people couldn’t hear the voices of the dead. Even psychics couldn’t interpret them clearly. At most, they could feel emotions and vague intentions. But strong longing often went unheard.

“Yoo?”

Deerling grew restless, feeling something familiar in the air, but it still couldn’t see the other Pokémon. At that moment, Hikaru gently placed his hand on Deerling.

The souls connected!

A departed life—its soul appeared vividly before Deerling.

Its former companion!

“Yoo!?”

“Muuun~”

The ghost Munna cheerfully floated around Deerling, showing off its lively self. Even though it had passed on, it was still the same as always—lively, playful, unchanged.

Deerling, however, looked utterly confused.

Dead…?

When? How?

And then, powerful emotions—wrapped in memories—poured into Deerling’s heart from Munna’s ghostly form.

That was the beginning of everything.

“This lively ghost Pokémon was once the Munna of Mr. Wado,” Hikaru explained to Skyla. “I can feel its emotions, and I’ve read its memories.”

“Mr. Wado was a world-traveling painter. When he was young, he met this Munna at a dream research facility and named her Little Dream.”

“They were the best of partners. They traveled the world, witnessed its brilliance, and poured it all into his art.”

“Along the way, they befriended many Pokémon—Deerling was one of them.”

“But their joyful time came to an end.”

“One day, Little Dream died. She vanished from this world. And Wado’s passion for art vanished with her. He could no longer create anything he found satisfying—he had lost his dream.”

“At that moment, Team Plasma arrived in Mistralton City and launched the Purrloin Protection Movement. Beyond the Purrloin, many were persuaded to release their Pokémon.”

“‘Meeting is the start of suffering; parting may be the best end’—that was his belief. So, he released his Pokémon and left Mistralton.”

“But not long ago, Mr. Wado returned… a man who had lost his dream, come to mourn his Pokémon.”

N quietly listened to the memories—memories from a soul. He felt ashamed, saying nothing.

The Purrloin Protection Movement… It had been started by Ghetsis and Vio—but that didn’t mean he could wash his hands of it. Claiming it had nothing to do with him would be dishonest.

“Muun! Muuun!”

Munna was thrilled. It had finally found someone who could understand its spirit and relay its feelings! It floated excitedly, urging Hikaru to head to the top of the tower, where the heartbroken Wado was now.

It didn’t want its old partner to stay in despair. And now that Deerling had returned—it was the perfect time.

“What’s Munna saying?” Skyla asked.

“Want to understand what a Pokémon is saying?” Hikaru held out his hand.

Skyla blinked, but without hesitation, took his hand.

Then, emotion and longing surged into her heart like a river.

“I—I can hear Pokémon! And the voices of spirits too! The whole tower… it’s full of voices like these!”

Skyla looked in awe at Munna’s ghost, then up toward the tower’s upper levels—her entire worldview was transformed.

So there was a world like this…

“I want to hear those voices too,” N whispered. He looked at Hikaru and Skyla, his face glowing with admiration.

“Let’s go up!”

This time, Hikaru led the way.

Munna’s ghost floated by his side. Deerling, its head low, trotted up the stairs. N raised his head and followed, with Skyla full of wonder close behind, still wearing the Silph Scope.

At this point, Hikaru looked more like the king of Team Plasma.

But N felt no resentment. He calmly followed, and faintly—he thought he, too, could sense the spirits here.

Second floor… third floor… More gravestones appeared. N murmured:

“This should be a place of sorrow… and yet, I see none of it on anyone’s face.”

“Of course!” Skyla snapped back.

“When you’re here, and you recall the memories you shared with your Pokémon—you feel like you need to live even harder!”

“Exactly. These voices are everywhere,” Hikaru nodded. “And the further up we go, the stronger they become.”

By the fourth floor, Hikaru could feel the soul energy surge!

[Lore Skill: “Voices from the Otherworld” activated!]

[Temporary Power Gained: “Emotions of the Soul”]

[Description: The Celestial Tower is brimming with the desire to live. A mysterious power flows into you! The emotions of the Pokémon resting here are a form of energy. They sense your presence and hope to use your power to relay their unspoken thoughts!]

[Effect: All of your special powers—Psychic, Spiritual, Aura, Genesis—are boosted by one tier while inside the Celestial Tower! You may also guide spirits to reunite with the living!]

[Note: This ancient tower is a sacred place of rest. Its bell holds great power to calm spirits. It seems the Spirit World is closely linked to this place. Something from the Spirit World is watching you through the tower’s energy. You bear its power, and hear the call of the departed!]

[If you battle within the Celestial Tower… something may awaken. This is a place of Unova’s deepest emotions, filled with a strange presence—

the power of Mesprit!]

“Mun.”

Munna’s voice made everyone look toward a certain direction. Amid the gravestones sat an old man, staring blankly at a blank canvas—Wado, the painter from the old house.

Deerling walked over. Wado looked up, and the moment he saw his old companion—he froze.

“You came back…?”

“Yoo!” Deerling snapped in frustration, scolding Wado for everything it had gone through since being released. But Wado couldn’t understand a word.

Until Hikaru placed a hand on his shoulder.

Before the old man could object, Deerling’s feelings poured into his heart.

And then Wado heard a new voice.

[Wado… I’ve missed you so much.]

[I’m finally here.]

Munna appeared before him in her ghostly form, more radiant and ethereal than ever.

The old man stood frozen, mind blank. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“You are…?” Rood had finished his speech and was standing in a corner when he saw the scene. He stepped forward, astonished—only to be blocked by N.

Rood froze in surprise but didn’t reveal N’s identity. Instead, he respectfully stepped back, deep in thought.

So that’s him. I’ve never met him before…

He’s even younger than Lord N. Why did he just touch that old painter?

And is that the Gym Leader next to him?

What is this group?

After helping Wado reunite with Munna, Hikaru turned to the others.

“Do you want to see your Pokémon again?”

His mysterious words stirred confusion among the mourners. Many had just accepted Team Plasma’s teachings—that bonds bring suffering.

And yet now, a young man was telling them:

“Your Pokémon want to talk to you. Their feelings… are still here.”

One skeptical man stepped forward. “Every person here is said to have been led by that child… but he’s gone now.”

“Some psychics claimed this place is filled with intense longing—but they couldn’t tell us what those emotions meant.”

“You’re a psychic too?”

Hikaru nodded. “A different kind of psychic. So, would you like to hear them?”

The older man hesitated… then nodded. “I’m in pain… If you really can let me hear my Pokémon… It sounds impossible, like something from a fairy tale. But I want to believe…”

Their hands clasped.

And in that man’s eyes—a ghostly form emerged. From the cold gravestone, a sleeping soul awakened! A longing that could never reach was finally delivered! New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on Novᴇl_Fire(.)net

“I—I see it! My Unfezant! It’s really my Unfezant!”

He cried out, arms open toward empty air, then looked to Hikaru in both thanks and shock.

“You… you really did it. Who… what are you?”

“A traveler,” Hikaru answered plainly.

Then more people stepped up, one after another. Some skeptical, some overwhelmed. One by one, they shook his hand, and the power of the souls was shared.

Each of them was reunited with their beloved, departed Pokémon.

N: “…This is incredible.”

Rood: “W-What is happening?!”

The old sage couldn’t comprehend the situation. Just moments ago, all these people had accepted Team Plasma’s ideology. But now they embraced thin air with tears in their eyes—as if mad.

What was going on?

(End of Chapter)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep