Pokémon Rebirth

Arun clasped his hands together, and opened his mouth. Out of it, a deep, rumbling voice echoed throughout the cavern; "Our work here today is done. There is little left before we find what we need. Go on, enjoy the rest of the day." The group shut down immediately, as they had not had rest for a week, now.

It took 15 minutes for the four-mile-deep cavern to clear out. Arun grinned, and proceeded through the cave. To be honest, the only reason why Arun let them off is that he, and only he, should be the one to see it. He walked up to the deepest point, and pressed his palm to the cold wall. He brushed his hand across, wiping the dirt and rock clear. It took a few minutes, but he finally saw a small spark of gold plating.

Yes.. this had been what he was looking for. He rubbed around the gold plate, and almost instantly recognized the ancient symbol.

"The Pokèmon of the Sun, the one who pulls the Sun across the sky..."

After he had finished reading the map, Arun left the cavern, collapsing it behind him. No one else would know of his secret.

Jerico stood alone, in a place where only a few recorded men had ever been. He was on the dark side of the moon.

Jerico jumped into a crater, where he could find the true reason why half of the missions to the moon had failed. He had prepared himself, readied himself to fight. It would be a battle like no other; and if he caught it, he could complete his theory, and prove that it was true.

A pair of glowing, dark blue eyes opened out of the darkness, and a scream echoed throughout the little crater. Jerico grimaced, and pulled one of the Pokèballs off his belt. "The Pokèmon of the Moon... you're mine!"

A man known only as Terror grinned. All was going according to plan.

Terror rose from his throne, and strode to huge, looming windows, where his faithful servant, the Pokèmon of Death, waited obediently. He glanced out the windows, where he could see his kingdom in full view. It was a barren wasteland, with no plants to be grouwn, no Pokèmon to fight with, and no people slaving over his will; but that was to be expected.

Terror reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of large, bulky goggles. He easily pulled them over his head, and adjusted the eyes. Now, he looked at his kingdom once more, and saw the truth. Thousands of glowing spirits roamed the empty land in search of life.

Terror had control of Death, the one thing that could keep the entire universe at his beck and call.

The seven Titans pulled themselves out of the future. It was clear to each and every one of them that the world would soon end if any of these calamities should occur.

As a ritual to become a Titan, each one had to pick a single child to serve should the original Titan fail to keep its duty. By a mutual agreement, the Titans decided they would set the chosen children up to the task of saving the world. And, by mere coincidence, one of these children was born exactly ten years ago...