Chapter 20: Pokémon Tower

  The scent of incense and ancient dust invaded Aspen's senses the moment she crossed the threshold of Lavender Town's Pokémon Tower. The atmosphere was unlike anything she had ever experienced before: thick yet imbued with an almost sacred silence. Though sunlight filtered timidly through the main entrance, it did little to illuminate the interior.

  The first thing that caught her eye were the tombstones, neatly arranged in rows, each adorned with memorial plaques and dried flowers that rustled beneath her steps.

  He recalled what his grandmother, Julia, had told him during their journey: this tower was a Pokémon cemetery, a place where fallen companions were honored. Over time, it had gained a reputation for attracting all kinds of spirits. The thought of stepping into a place where dozens—perhaps hundreds—of Pokémon rested sent a shiver down his spine. Despite the fact that many Pokémon lived far longer than humans—except for certain Bug-types—eventually, they all died. The only exceptions were those species that were already pure spectral manifestations, like Gastly.

  “They say Gastly was born from clouds of poisonous gas emerging from a cemetery,” he recalled with a lump in his throat, “and that, imbued with the resentment of that place, it began to gain consciousness…”

  The mental image of a purple haze coming to life, fueled by the resentment or pain of the dead, disturbed him more than he was willing to admit out loud.

  Tightening the strap of his backpack with determination, he set out to explore the first floors. According to his grandmother’s information, these were mostly sections with graves and niches. The map she had given him described the first two floors as “Ground Floor – Entrance and Memorial Altar” and “First and Second Floor – Burial Areas with Commemorative Niches.” There wasn’t supposed to be much paranormal activity down here.

  He silently observed the gravestones, some with inscriptions worn by time, others surrounded by candles that flickered with the draft. Small Pokémon statues stood among the hallways—marble carvings that seemed to watch him with a mixture of serenity and sadness. A soft murmur echoed to his left: an elderly man in robes—possibly a monk—prayed before a grave, a Hondew incense burner at his feet.

  Aspen continued walking among the tombstones and memorials, feeling as though every step took him deeper into a world unlike any he had ever known. There were no battles here, no laughter—only reverence and solemn respect for the Pokémon that had passed. He could imagine the story behind each grave—how, once, a trainer had laid their partner to rest with tears and promises of reunion, or how trainers still came to honor their old allies.

  As he ascended to the Second Floor, the atmosphere changed slightly. The air felt heavier, and some of the monks he encountered seemed more reserved. When they noticed Aspen, one of them gave him a thoughtful look but said nothing. It seemed not all visitors dared to climb much higher—this place was particularly sacred.

  For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if it was right to intrude on such a private place just to search for a Gastly with a specific ability. But his grandmother’s order rang in his mind: “Don’t come back without that special Gastly.”

  I needed to grow stronger.

  He reached the Third Floor and immediately noticed the contrast: a light mist filtered through the staircase, giving the space a hazy gray tint. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted a group of monks, dressed in far more ceremonial robes, gathered around a secondary altar.

  Sensing his presence, they turned to face him, blocking his path.

  “Who are you?” asked the eldest monk, his voice firm but not hostile. “This floor is restricted to monks of the Ghost Clan.”

  Aspen swallowed hard, remembering the letter his grandmother had given him. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope, its seal marked with an ideogram unfamiliar to him. Julia had told him that by showing this letter, he might be granted permission to proceed.

  As he presented it, the monk’s face softened—just a fraction—but his stern expression did not fade.

  “I come… with the authorization of my grandmother, Julia Meloc.” His words echoed hollowly in the silence, and he realized he didn’t really know how to explain his reason for being there without sounding like a grave robber.

  The monk studied the seal and nodded at his companions, signaling them to step aside. However, his face remained severe.

  “You may pass, young one, but be warned: do not ascend to the top floor. There are things there beyond the understanding of an ordinary trainer. The master of the tower does not welcome intruders. Moreover…” He lowered his voice. “If you see red eyes in the darkness, close yours immediately. Do not ask why. Just do it.”

  The warning sent a chill through Aspen’s chest: red eyes in the shadows—something even the monks couldn’t control. He nodded, suppressing an internal shudder, and continued his path, feeling the monks’ wary gazes on his back.

  Not a single Pokémon appeared in this section, except for a Dusclops that floated in the distance, only to vanish when he tried to look at it more closely.

  “Better… not stop,” he told himself, climbing the stone steps with a racing heart.

  The hallway narrowed, swallowed in an eerie silence that amplified every shuffle and breath.

  A noise crunched behind him.

  He spun around abruptly and, in that second, slipped—falling to the ground in a pathetic heap. His bruised ego stung as he scrambled to his feet, trying to regain his balance.

  “Ha…” A mocking whisper echoed nearby.

  A faint purple shape emerged from the mist: a Gastly, wearing its signature mischievous grin, floating just above the ground. Its violet haze swirled, as if laughing in silence. Its eyes gleamed, and its ghostly tongue flicked out in a taunting gesture.

  “Ah!” Aspen yelped, startled, his adrenaline surging. He quickly activated his Poké Balls.

  “Dozy, Noizy, come out!” he called, his voice trembling as he steadied himself.

  From the red light emerged his Alolan Grimer and his Zubat. Both Pokémon, sensing the strange atmosphere, showed signs of unease.

  Noizy, the Zubat, flapped near the ceiling, emitting small screeches to orient itself. Dozy, the Grimer, moved sluggishly across the floor, gazing at its trainer with its usual sleepy expression.

  “Noizy, use Chatter! Dozy, Swift!” Aspen commanded, trying to sound confident.

  Noizy beat its wings and released a series of discordant sounds—a harsh, chaotic melody that bounced off the walls, striking the Gastly with a wave of sonic energy. The ghost recoiled, letting out a strange, warbled hiss, as if the noise disturbed it more than usual.

  At the same time, Dozy swelled its gelatinous body and fired a barrage of golden stars, briefly illuminating the misty surroundings. The Gastly took the hit, emitting a growl of pain.

  However, before Aspen could celebrate, the Gastly’s mouth twisted into a sinister grin. It opened wide and unleashed a Confuse Ray—a pulse of spectral sparks slicing through the air.

  The impact sent a sharp disorientation through Aspen and his Pokémon.

  His vision blurred, his mind swam in a dizzy haze. He reached out to the wall for support, struggling to stay on his feet.

  His companions weren’t faring any better—Noizy wobbled midair, bumping into itself, while Dozy nearly oozed sideways in confusion.

  The Gastly, satisfied with the result, let out another silent cackle before drifting back into the darkness. It dodged the next wave of scattered Swift stars and disappeared, leaving behind only a faint trace of gas.

  “No… come back!” Aspen groaned, trying to focus, but the confusion left him unable to form a clear command.

  Neither Noizy nor Dozy could chase after it.

  Soon, Aspen found himself stumbling as he fought to recover, his head spinning.

  The confusion status was incredibly dangerous—especially in a place as labyrinthine as this.

  He took a few clumsy steps, bumping into a pillar and unwittingly following a corridor that led upward. Dozy and Noizy, unable to assist him due to their own dizziness, merely trailed behind, trying to obey their trainer despite their muddled state.

  “Where… where am I going?” Aspen muttered, a ringing sound echoing in his ears.

  He climbed stairs—he wasn’t sure how many. Every time he reached out to steady himself, he either grasped empty air or brushed against walls he didn’t remember.

  His Pokémon followed as best they could, equally disoriented.

  The place was becoming more and more confusing.

  It didn’t take long before the dizziness made it impossible for him to tell what floor he was on.

  By the time he realized, he was in a narrow corridor—no monks in sight.

  The air grew colder, heavier. The mist was so dense he could barely see his own feet.

  He coughed, feeling a sharp sting in his throat.

  “Chsssh…”

  A hissing sound came from his right—or was it his left? It was impossible to pinpoint.

  Aspen froze, trying to focus his vision, while Noizy fluttered around him and Dozy sloshed across the floor.

  The ringing in his head dulled slightly, but it hadn’t fully faded.

  Then, two glowing red lights appeared in the darkness.

  They hovered, unblinking, watching him from the shadows.

  A terrible shiver ran down Aspen’s spine.

  He remembered the monks’ warning:

  “If you see red eyes, close your own immediately.”

  A spike of confusion and panic shot through him.

  Should he obey? Or should he move?

  But the dizziness kept him paralyzed.

  Before he could decide, he heard a low, guttural growl—one that rumbled like something slithering across the floor.

  “Sssshhhh…”

  The sound drew closer, and Aspen instinctively took a step back.

  The red eyes flickered.

  Terror gripped his legs, locking them in place.

  His instincts screamed at him to shut his eyes and run, but his clouded mind struggled to process the thought.

  Beyond those eyes, something else shifted in the shadows—a large, hazy shape silhouetted against the faint light.

  He could hear something breathing behind his neck.

  Whipping around, he saw Noizy and Dozy react—his Zubat screeched an alert, while Grimer gurgled in alarm.

  “Who… are you?” he whispered, barely able to form the words.

  No one answered.

  The silence felt like a tombstone pressing down on his chest.

  Aspen clutched his backpack, hands clammy with sweat, and fumbled for the charm his grandmother had given him.

  He held it against his chest, trying to calm himself, trying to think clearly.

  He remembered the warning:

  “If you see red eyes, close your own immediately and do not open them until it passes.”

  Too late.

  The glowing pupils in the dark took another step forward.

  And Aspen felt an oppressive force begin to steal the air from his lungs.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The confusion from Confuse Ray still clouded Aspen’s mind, keeping him in a state of semi-consciousness.

  Then, another pair of red lights flared to the side—another set of eyes.

  Were they two separate Pokémon?

  Or was it a phantom illusion?

  Noizy let out a shrill screech, trying to attack, but its disoriented state caused it to spin aimlessly in the air, failing to land a blow.

  Dozy sluggishly crawled closer to Aspen, attempting to shield him, but its natural lethargy—combined with the confusion—only made it stumble.

  The eerie murmur echoed through the shadows again.

  Aspen tried to step back, but suddenly, a wooden plank creaked beneath his feet.

  He gasped and spun around—just in time to see a strange silhouette shifting among the moss-covered walls and gravestones.

  A wave of chills surged up his spine.

  This was just like the cave—trapped, weakened, facing an unknown entity.

  But then, a jolt of reality cut through his fear.

  “Don’t give in to panic.”

  His grandmother’s words echoed in his mind.

  He forced himself to blink, trying to clear his thoughts.

  “Dozy, Noizy… we need to back away… slowly…” he panted.

  He took a step backward, locking eyes with those red orbs—even though he was supposed to shut his own.

  He had no idea whether it was safer to obey the rule or to navigate blindly.

  Through the haze of confusion, he managed to retreat a few more steps, his Pokémon struggling to follow.

  Every fiber of his body screamed at him to run, but he feared running into something even worse in his current state.

  The hollow creaking of the floorboards stretched endlessly.

  The mist thickened, making it harder to see.

  The red eyes narrowed.

  And a bubbling sound—almost mocking—rose from the darkness.

  Then, somehow, they disappeared.

  Only the lingering echo of a sinister laugh remained.

  Aspen froze, trembling, sweat dripping down his forehead.

  He leaned against a wall and let out a shaky breath, realizing he had barely escaped… or so he thought.

  His dizziness had yet to fade, and he had no idea which floor he was on or where the corridor led.

  As he tried to calm down, he sensed movement in the deepest part of the shadows.

  A blurred shape—like a mass—stretched and shifted as if observing him.

  It happened so quickly that he doubted he had truly seen it.

  Was it another Gastly?

  Or maybe a Haunter?

  The night in this tower felt endless, and he still hadn’t found the special Gastly with Shadow Tag that his grandmother had sent him to catch.

  Instead, all he had encountered was danger, confusion, and inexplicable figures.

  Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath, gathering what little courage he had left.

  He adjusted his backpack, checking to make sure Noizy’s and Dozy’s Poké Balls were still secure—even though they were currently outside.

  He told himself he had to keep going, to find a way out of this disorienting maze or at least locate a safe place to rest.

  The problem was…

  He couldn’t see any monks.

  And there were no clear signs of where this corridor ended.

  The faint creaking of wood and the whisper of wind in the cracks of the old walls made the entire space feel alive, as though the tower itself was watching him.

  Was this part of the paranormal phenomena?

  The monks’ warning echoed in his mind:

  “Do not ascend to the top floor…”

  Aspen’s breath hitched.

  “Am I accidentally going higher?” he whispered, alarmed.

  The realization struck him like a bucket of cold water.

  Had he unknowingly crossed the threshold of safety?

  Dozy let out a soft bubbling noise.

  Noizy, fluttering nervously near the ceiling, scanned the surroundings with jittery clicks.

  Their message was clear: We’re with you, but we don’t know how much longer we can last.

  Aspen reached out to gently pat Dozy, trying to reassure the Pokémon—but his hand was shaking.

  His mouth was dry.

  His heart pounded wildly.

  And his mind was still foggy.

  A faint chirping sound echoed in the dark.

  Was it the same Gastly from before?

  Or a different one?

  Lavender Tower was known to be filled with them, and not all were friendly.

  At some point, Aspen had dropped his map, and he had no idea if he would ever find it in this thick mist.

  “I have to focus…” he murmured, but clear thinking felt impossible.

  Click. Click.

  Footsteps.

  Or maybe an illusion.

  It almost seemed like an ancient shadow was slithering along the walls, trying to lure him further up or into a dead end.

  “Noizy, use Supersonic… or Chatter… anything to scare whatever’s out there…” he whispered, forcing himself to sound brave.

  The Zubat flapped its wings but remained disoriented.

  It spun in circles before releasing a harmless screech against the opposite wall.

  At that same moment, Dozy flinched with a startled blorp, sensing something cold brush against it.

  Aspen barely held back another shudder.

  And then—

  Those red eyes flickered open again.

  Distant.

  Threatening.

  This time, they were accompanied by something larger—something black, shifting like a vortex against the wall.

  Aspen felt his heartbeat stutter.

  He wished he could obey the warning and shut his eyes.

  But terror kept them wide open.

  His breathing quickened as he locked eyes with the crimson glow.

  Whatever courage remained in him vanished when the shape took a step forward.

  Dozy prepared to Stockpile, swelling its gelatinous form for defense.

  Noizy fluttered erratically, its nervous energy palpable.

  Was this a Pokémon ready to battle?

  Or was it something even worse than a regular Gastly?

  Above them, another creak echoed.

  Aspen realized—he wasn’t alone on this floor.

  There were more presences.

  Gastly, Haunter… maybe even a Gengar.

  Or something worse.

  His grandmother had warned him that many Ghost-types inhabited the tower—some so old they might have lethal abilities.

  For a brief second, he considered retreating, finding a safe place, and trying again later.

  But his mission was clear.

  He needed a Gastly with Shadow Tag.

  “There’s no way out,” he murmured, breathless.

  The confusion still fogged his mind, making it impossible to think of an escape plan.

  Surrounded by mist and shadows, Aspen finally understood—

  This was the most dangerous place he had ever set foot in.

  And if he made one wrong move, he might not get a second chance.

  His terrified gaze locked onto the glowing red eyes.

  Something was moving against the walls, creeping closer.

  Summoning every ounce of courage left, Aspen raised his hand in a defensive stance, forming a diamond shape with his fingers.

  Dozy and Noizy stood their ground, though exhaustion and confusion dulled their reactions.

  “What’s about to emerge from those shadows…?”

  Fear gripped him completely.

  The monks had been right.

  This was where the real danger began.

  Confusion and darkness blurred together in a chaos that threatened to consume him.

  Alone, with only two inexperienced Pokémon, Aspen was trapped on an unfamiliar floor—deep in the heart of Lavender Tower.

  As his mind wavered between fighting and fleeing, he realized something chilling—

  The red eyes were moving closer.

  His heartbeat pounded like a drum in his ears.

  Boom-boom, boom-boom.

  The line between reality and ghost stories blurred.

  With his entire body trembling, Aspen lifted his gaze.

  And then—

  A chilling, slithering sound scraped against the ancient stone behind him, closing off any possible escape.

  Aspen’s breath caught in his throat.

  A shiver ran down his spine as he realized—

  There was no way out.

  His pulse thundered in his ears, matching the eerie silence around him.

  The red eyes in the darkness gleamed, flickering ever so slightly, as if whatever creature lurked there was watching him closely.

  Then, the slithering sound grew louder.

  Something scraped against the stone floor, slow and deliberate.

  Aspen’s body tensed. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. His confusion-addled mind struggled to process what was happening.

  “Think, Aspen. Think.”

  He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

  The monks had warned him—if he saw red eyes, he was supposed to close his own.

  But it was too late for that.

  His muscles locked up as the shadows stirred, swirling like ink dispersing in water.

  “Noizy, Dozy… stay close.” His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  Noizy fluttered restlessly, sending out clicks to sense their surroundings.

  Dozy, sluggish as ever, let out a low, gurgling sound, as if trying to understand the growing tension in the air.

  Aspen’s fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack.

  If he made the wrong move now, he might not make it out of this floor.

  The temperature dropped further.

  His breath came out in faint white puffs.

  The very air around him seemed heavy, pressing down on his shoulders, making it harder to move, harder to think.

  Then—

  “Crrrrk.”

  A sound like splitting wood.

  Aspen stiffened.

  It came from behind him.

  He dared not turn around.

  A deep, guttural chuckle echoed through the corridor.

  Not the high-pitched, mischievous giggle of a Gastly.

  Not the playful cackle of a Haunter.

  This was different.

  Something ancient.

  Something watching him.

  His stomach twisted in dread.

  Aspen swallowed, his throat dry.

  A new movement stirred in the corner of his vision.

  A third pair of red eyes.

  His chest constricted.

  Three sets of glowing, blood-red pupils, all locked onto him from different angles.

  Trapped.

  Panic crawled up his spine.

  He could feel something lurking in the mist, just outside his vision.

  It was waiting.

  Testing him.

  Playing with him.

  “Noizy—use Chatter!”

  The Zubat, still slightly disoriented, screeched, sending out a distorted, chaotic melody. The sound bounced off the walls, cutting through the suffocating silence.

  The red eyes flickered, but they did not disappear.

  Instead—

  A whisper slithered through the air.

  “Shhhhhh…”

  Aspen sucked in a sharp breath.

  The whisper came from right next to his ear.

  He jumped back instinctively, crashing into Dozy, who let out a startled blorp.

  “What… what is this thing?”

  His vision swam, still slightly dazed from the Confuse Ray.

  The mist thickened.

  The walls of the corridor felt like they were closing in on him.

  A heavy weight settled on his chest, an unexplainable pressure pressing down on his entire body.

  Like something was wrapping around him.

  Like something was trying to pull him under.

  Then—

  The red eyes vanished.

  All three sets.

  Aspen blinked rapidly, his breath ragged.

  Had they… left?

  No.

  They were still there.

  He could feel it.

  Something was moving in the darkness.

  Something large.

  Something invisible.

  The hairs on his arms stood up.

  Noizy flapped his wings, trying to reorient himself.

  Dozy shifted slightly, moving closer to his trainer.

  Aspen knew he had to act now.

  His stomach screamed at him to move.

  “We need you to-”

  A sharp click-click-click echoed through the hallway.

  Aspen froze.

  The sound was right above him.

  He slowly looked up.

  And then-

  A shape launched itself from the ceiling.

  Aspen barely had time to react.

  A mass of darkness lunged at him from above, barely grazing his head as he staggered backward.

  A sharp chill ran through his body, as if the air itself had turned to ice.

  Noizy screeched, flapping his wings frantically to escape whatever had just descended upon him.

  Dozy let out a slow gurgle, instinctively trying to shield Aspen with his gelatinous body.

  Aspen's pulse hammered in his ears.

  The figure appeared before him, half hidden in the dense fog.

  He couldn't make out its full form, only the eerie glow of its red eyes and the black void surrounding it.

  His breathing came in ragged gasps.

  What was this thing?

  Aspen took a shaky step back, legs shaking.

  His fingers fumbled for a Pokéball, but he hesitated.

  Would it even work against something like that?

  The air grew thicker, the oppressive weight pressing down on him with each passing second.

  A deep, guttural laugh echoed through the hallway.

  Slow.

  Mocking.

  "Shhhhhh..."

  Aspen's entire body went rigid.

  The voice...was right next to him.