Skylight


"I've never been to your place before."

“I’m still not a fan of house calls."

Bill and Tropius stand uneasy in front of the latter's residency.

This brown cabin looks out of place alongside the massive shaved tree trunk that the guild is made out of. Though it seems too modest for comfort for its sole inhabitant, in practice it’s a good fit for someone of Tropius's size. In any case, however, he was never one to outwardly complain. After all, a few gracious guild members were the ones who devoted time to erecting the place.

Its roof is slanted at an angle and a few smaller complementary spaces jut out of the small building. The overall wooden build looks fresh and surprisingly well-done, clashing with the ever-aging tree beside it. All in all, it looks ominously ordinary.

“I wish circumstances would've been normal, but there's no helping it," Bill replies, not taking his eyes off of the building. On his side, he carries an empty exploration pouch in preparation. “I’m just surprised you came to me for help.”

Tropius’s posture slumps. “Yes, well… everybody I’d trust with a… unique situation like this has already entered the dungeon inside the guild, or is completely worthless at fighting. You’re the only remaining person that knows about my condition.” He slumps further, now looking down at the grass at his feet. “After hearing that the spirits inside the dungeon know our fears… I cannot go in alone.”

"No need to explain," Bill turns around to face him, his tone understanding. "I will help in whatever way I can, I've gotten confident enough in my strength. And you're saying your place was affected as well? Did you enter it?"

Tropius stretches his wings outwards, a motion which vaguely resembles a shrug. “Well… no. But I came here to grab some supplies after that spirit’s spiel earlier. I opened the door and began to take a step inside when I noticed that my home’s interior was… pitch-black.”

“...Pitch-black?” Bill asks, slightly tilting his head. Unbeknownst to him, it makes him look like more of a dog.

Tropius arches his head back, nervously rubbing it with the tip of one of his wings. “Um… It’s like there’s no light inside there at all, even though there should be plenty coming in from the windows. But the only way that could happen… is if my house turned into a mystery dungeon like the guild did.”

“Yeah, sounds like a problem," a new casual voice similar to Bill’s is heard.

A Hisuian Growlithe appears behind Bill, joining the pair. Gill sways his tail, as if pondering what he should do. Tropius turns his gaze towards Bill’s fraternal twin, tilts his head, and squints, confused by his sudden arrival.

Gill looks away to his side to see people bustling and moving around the guild’s building. “Sorry to interrupt, but everyone else is scrambling to fight those spirits… I was going to storm the main building on my own, but I overheard you two. Besides, there’s no way I’m leaving Billy alone in a dungeon with someone else, he bites a lot and always needs correction.”

Bill looks back at his brother, unfazed by the banter. He then looks away, indecisive.

The silver-maned Growlithe continues, a bit more seriously this time: “...heyyy, we all have to do our part. I’m doing mine. I’m betting this will be good exercise for us two, don’t you think?”

The latter looks back with a slight, but complicit smile. “Introduce yourself to Tropius first and then we may continue.”

Gill returns the smile back… afterwards leaping in place to face Tropius: “Heyyy!”

The somber sauropod reels slightly, taken aback by Gill’s boisterous demeanor and entrance. “Um… hi? You’re Gill, Bill’s brother, right?” His face scrunches slightly, as though uncomfortable with Gill’s presence.

“Tropius, right?” Gill says, dropping the more-energetic-than-usual act and using a more level tone with the lumbering giant. “Not to brag, but I’m pretty strong myself. As much as Bill is. We make a good team and you look like you need all the help you can get. If you’re not much of a fighter, then we have you covered.”

Tropius nervously digs at the ground with his foot. “U-um, that’s good and all, but I’m not so sure if we need a third…” He looks at Bill pleadingly.

“Well… he’s not wrong,” Bill says, taking note of Tropius’s uneasiness. “As much as I’m loath to admit it, he can take a lot of abuse and dish it out. There’s no way to tell what’s inside and I’m not taking chances.”

Bill can see that the dinosaur is not fully convinced yet.

“Besides… I trust him.” he continues, hoping Gill does not notice the added emphasis. “Alright? He is to be trusted. Don’t worry.”

The sauropod’s fidgeting stops, though a worried frown remains on his face as he lets out a deep sigh. “Alright… I’ll place my trust in him then. We could use the extra manpower anyway.”

“I don’t know why I’m not supposed to be trusted…” Gill looks away in mock indifference. “I’m very, very much to be trusted!”

“Well… let’s get this over with,” Tropius laments.

“Right! Right, right…” Gill concludes.

“Alright. We get in. We travel through the dungeon. Deplete this Spiritomb’s power...” Bill recounts what he heard, though increasingly unsure. “Well, we make sure to find out how his power is depleted. We then press on.”

The trio step up to the house’s entrance. Tropius's long head cranes forward, biting the handle of the immense wooden door, swiveling it open. Their peers inside are met only with a ramp leading down into the biting darkness now enshrouding the interior of the large shack.

Bill looks up to the Pokémon towering over him with a knowing look. “Are you ready?”

Tropius stiffens his posture as he takes a deep, prolonged breath. “I’m as ready as I can be. Let’s just go in before I change my mind.”

“Right on,” Gill contrasts Tropius with a defiant tone.

The group shuffles in single-file into the house’s entrance, each member becoming enveloped in the umbral shroud as they descend the ramp into the possessed abode.


They descend further, and further… but the ramp does not end. Despite being well into the darkness, it does not dispel. The lighting behind only gets shallower and shallower. Their eyes do not get used to the lack of light. It is eerily quiet, save only for their footsteps and Tropius’s audible breathing.

“So…” Gill speaks, breaking the silence. “If it wasn’t this dark before… What, is the floor still the same?”

“Uh… Y-yes, it still feels the same.” Tropius nervously replies.

“But… I'm assuming your ramp isn’t this long?”

“Yes, it is, Gill,” Bill cuts in sardonically. “Tropius has an uphill struggle every morning, I’m sure.”

“Ugh, I just wanted to make conversation!” Gill snaps back to his sibling, the latter feeling satisfied for finally getting under his brother’s skin.

“A very uphill struggle indee—”

Bill’s banter is interrupted by a booming mechanical click. The loud sound is accompanied by the appearance of an enormous pattern of light being shined down on the wooden floor.

With the area ahead partially illuminated, the trio is now able to see a portion of the dungeon. It makes the twins gasp.

A veritable field of wood expands hundreds of yards away into an immense room. The environment is oppressively vast, with tall pitch black walls reaching several magnitudes of height compared to the now-modest guild next to it. Planks of wood extend as far as the eye can see into a unified horizon. Subtle ramps and inclines streak the expanse into large concentric squares. High upon the black ceiling, contrasting the darkness surrounding it, is an intricately colored stained glass sending hard lighting into the stage below. As wide as the empty place below, its cracks and seams mesh together into a shape that resembles the guild's insignia. Dust motes are illuminated by it.

Though the scope is appreciable and visible to a degree, the rest of the room, sans the single source of light, is in deep and utter darkness. The party finds themselves far away from the light.

Tropius pauses, taken aback by the sudden magnitude of the environment. His gaze follows the beam of light upwards towards its source, and his posture relaxes and he smiles hesitantly once he processes the light’s origin.

“H-hey! That looks like my skylight!” He juts his head to his sides, vainly trying to orient it towards Bill and Gill, wherever they might be in this darkness.

Bill keeps looking up at the ceiling, stunned as well by the extreme size of the distorted home. Gill tilts his head. “A… skylight? Like a greenhouse or a cathedral? It does… look like that.”

Tropius nods. “Yeah, sort of. My home has an adjustable skylight to let some sunlight in… It’s shaped like the guild’s emblem, so that skylight has to be the dungeon taking on some aspect of my house…” He deflates with a sigh. “I sure hope my house is okay after all of this…” Recomposing himself, he faces towards the beam of light. “W-well, we should head for that light now!”

Bill stops walking, beckoning everyone to stop with his next words. “Let’s stop and think for a second and be prepared for anything. We need to exercise caution first.”

“M-maybe, but anything is better than staying in complete darkness. I m-mean, who’s to say the darkness isn’t the t-trap?”

“Tropius…” Bill responds without much conviction.

“I’m sure it’ll be f-fine! Come on!”

Tropius briskly starts walking towards the spotlight, forcing the twins to trot along apprehensively. He hustles with singular purpose, gaze fixated on the light like a moth. “W-we can’t stay in this darkness, I’m sure the light—”

His wings twitch.

Before he has a chance to react, Bill is midair next to his head in a ferocious lunge. His fangs are wreathed in wispy black. He loudly Bites something next to his face.

Tropius totters from the shock. Bill lands in front of him, relentlessly thrashing a helpless, screeching… mass within his wispy maw. The strange being is roughly tossed away.

“GUYS!” Bill yells in front of a the other two, shocked by the sudden action. Unbeknownst to them, his canine facial features are contorted and manic, as if bloodlusted. “Ghosts are SURROUNDING US!”

Panicked, the sauropod flails his head every which way, desperately trying to sense the attacking apparitions any way that he can. “W-where? I can’t see them!”

The orange Growlithe quickly points his face towards nothing in the dark and shouts, “Tropius, shoot to your left!” before bounding away to Tropius’s right.

Obeying, Tropius quickly orients leftward, blindly firing off a volley of razor sharp leaves with a slash of his wings. The sharpness cuts through the air, and a high-pitched shriek soon follows, prompting the Grass-type to hustle as quickly as he can towards the light. He calls back, “R-run to the light! We’ll be able to see them there!”

As he gallops towards the light, Tropius hears a quick burst of fire behind him. There’s screeching. Gill yelps, followed by Bill. Hardly anything can be discerned. The two then sprint towards Tropius’s direction as well.

Tropius stomps into the apparent safety of the spotlight, with Bill and Gill clambering in behind him shortly after. As the twins pass into the luminescence, silhouettes of horned, cloth-like figures are briefly seen on the edge of the spotlight, attempting to pursue them into the light’s embrace. But as they attempt to pass through the threshold, they recoil and shriek terribly, before retreating into the unearthly comfort of the umbric shroud.

The three spend a moment beneath the glow of the skylight, catching their breath as they soak in the events of just a few seconds ago.

“Those… things were Shuppet, right?” Bill pants slightly, his bloodlusted look having faded immediately. “I think that’s what they were called.”

“Shuppet, yeah,” Gill responds, shoving his muzzle to his side as if licking something. “Getting attacked by those horns in the dark… ugh…”

“We seem to be safe here, at least,” Tropius says, head raised high with wings spread.

Left with no other words, an eerie silence sets in. The twins look all around, not moving from their position as they take in the endless vista of darkened wood. Even though the empty space around is as vast and oppressive as it can be, the air feels and smells as stuffy as that of a much smaller bedroom. Despite these bleak surroundings, Tropius quietly stands tall with his illuminated appendages outstretched, seeming oddly contented.

It’s only a matter of time before someone raises an idea. The unspoken question is on everyone’s mind.

“Now what?” Gill asks, having sat down while looking at nowhere.

Tropius lets out a deep sigh as he folds his wings back into their typical resting position. His mouth contorts as though something’s on the tip of them, but no word escapes him. He looks off into the darkness, silently.

Noticing the reluctance for action, Bill speaks up. “We can’t stay here. We have to scout this place for the way forward.”

Swaying his head in, Tropius turns his attention towards Bill. “W-what? We can’t just go back into this darkness!”

Bill gives Tropius a firm look, and postures similarly. “We would... need a plan of attack. Surely the way forward is somewhere in that darkness, or else we would have noticed the exit right away here.”

“That’s... true enough, Billy, but what about the ghosts? I can’t fight if I can’t see…” Gill ironically complains.

Tropius leans in towards Bill, tilting his head. “Speaking of those ghosts… how did you know those Shuppet were there before they actually attacked us?”

Bill sits down and exhales in relief, looking at the ominous darkness. “The thing is… I can sense them, in a way. It’s weird to explain.”

Tropius and Gill do not respond. Even the latter slightly tilts his head in confusion.

“Alright… this is how it is. Ghosts smell like nothing to me.”

Bill pauses briefly, as if to expect their expressions to change. He continues.

“Let me put this into perspective. With this nose, I can identify the smell of absolutely anything. The relatively new planks of wood below us, the books and shelves far out there alongside those massive walls… and the stained glass high up above us, if you can believe it. I know it’s odorless, but even something odorless like water is mixed in with enough stuff to give it the smallest of distinct scents. Decomposed material has a smell. And so on.

Ghosts like these possess no smell. To my nose, it’s as if they do not exist. Even if they’re not visible, I’m able to hone into their lack of scent. They’re like subtle bubbles in an ocean. That’s how I’m able to perceive them.”

Even still, there is no response. Though finally Gill snorts:

“Now that’s something. I didn’t think my nose was THAT sensitive.”

“The main drawback here… would be that I’m the only one who is aware of the ghosts’s location. Perhaps you could get the hang of it, Gill, but even then, we won’t be afforded the time needed to relay that information in a fight.”

Tropius lowers his head with a frown as his wings wilt. “You guys are lucky. My senses are barely as good as they were when I was human. I’m feeling a little useless…”

Gill turns to him. “Billy and I have enhanced senses. It figures that you have some too.”

He shakes his head. “No.... I think if anything, my senses have gotten worse. The helmet makes it tough to hear sometimes, and while I have a wider field of view now, my eyesight itself isn’t any better… Not that that’d be any help here.”

He deflates, defeated, with a sigh. His wings fully drop to the floor, one of which twitches as he feels something move from underneath it. As it does, Tropius arches his neck around to investigate, finding Bill standing beside the leafy appendage.

“Oh, sorry Bill, I didn’t see-”

Tropius suddenly jolts upright, his broad leaves blowing wind into the twins’ faces as he does so.

His wing had twitched.

“That’s it!”

Tropius spreads his wings wide without saying anything. He remains nearly motionless for nearly a minute, save for the occasional twitch of one of his outstretched leaves.

Gently, he returns his wings to their usual resting position and lowers his view down to the twins below. “The ghosts… I can sense where they are!”

Gill smirks as though he had known all along. “Really?” Bill answers.

“This doesn’t come up very often, so I’ve only done this once before, but…” He stretches out one of his verdant leaves. “My wings are very sensitive to changes in the air flow. They may be ghosts, but they still affect the air they travel through. If I focus, I can use those subtle changes to figure out where they are. But it’s only a general idea…”

Bill thinks for a moment. He then stands up, his nose twitching. “Tropius, is there a ghost to my right?”

The dinosaur’s face contorts as he begins to focus once more.

“...No.”

“What about in front of me?”

“...Yes.”

“Left side?” he walks over to the edge of the clover.

“...No.”

“How does it look like in general?”

“A… few on your twelve, I think. There also seems like a bunch to your six. I’m not certain though, I don’t think my sense is as fine as yours.”

Bill sits down again. He then starts to chuckle in surprise. “They're not. But… you know, those voids in my scent are the only way I can detect them when not visible. If those slight displacements made by ghosts are enough for you to identify them with your wings…”

Gill echoes the chuckles. “That’s incredible, alright.”

All three exchange a knowing look. It was time to make a plan.

They look at the darkness.

The dinosaur still hesitates. “I s-still don’t know if it’s a good idea to–”

“Tropius, how far does your ‘vision’ reach?” Gill interrupts with an unusual commanding tone.

“Umm…” Tropius stances himself once more, spreading his wings wide. Concentrating once more, he does not move, save for an occasional twitch of his wings. “Maybe… thirty feet out? I can feel them moving just a bit outside the light here.” He tilts his head. “But it’s harder for me to feel where exactly they are the further away they are…”

Gill swishes his tail in thought. Barely any time is given to the silence before he answers back:

“We comb through the area in a spiral. You walk around, and we intercept anything as soon as you give the order. I have a pretty good idea of what Bill is talking about, but I’ll need to hone my senses as we go. If what my gut is telling me is true, Bill and I will be able to identify specific targets, as opposed to your general detection. If things go south, we will always be able to return to the center. And Tropius, you take priority in fleeing from any confrontation since your detection can’t pinpoint the ghosts to the extent that Bill’s smell can. You leave the fighting mostly to us two. Does this all sound right to you both?”

Bill blinks twice. His tone is laced with a bit of disbelief. “I’m… trying to think of anything else. Sure.”

Tropius stares oddly at Gill, surprised by the cogent speech the previously goofy Growlithe just gave. His glance soon breaks as he gives a worried look at the surrounding darkness, then lets out a sigh. “I don’t really want to leave this spot, but… alright. That plan seems fine.” He bashfully sways his head to the side muttering, “At least I won’t have to exert myself too hard this way…”

“Great!” Gill rears up, then abruptly stomps down hard on one of the floorboards. Planks break loose from the ground, shattering in half in the process.

Tropius gasps in horror.

Undeterred, Gill then proceeds to spit a lump of fire at one of the planks jutting out, setting the tip ablaze in a flash.

“What the hell!? What’d you do that for!?” he shouts. “This is still my house, you know!!”

The growlithe then picks up the massive plank of wood in his maw effortlessly and walks toward the edge of the darkness. The floor is illuminated by the fire, making for a makeshift torch.

He carefully leaves said torch on the splintered crater in order to speak: “Hopefully this should make things a bit better, right Tropius?”

Tropius stares at the shard of his hardwood floor burning in front of him. Unsure, he looks to Bill, who gives an expectant look in return. A look of defeat washes onto Tropius’s face before he quickly overrides it with a forced smile.

“Thanks, Gill.”

He leans his head down, grabs the torch in his teeth, and places it into Bill’s bag. Surprisingly, it slots in nicely, with enough length in the plank to keep the lit end a safe distance from the bag itself.

“Billy, we go to Tropius’s left,” he indicates to his brother, still in his authoritative tone. “You’ll be facing the outer rim since your nose seems to be way better than mine. I’ll try my best to get the hang of the way you ‘smell’ those ghosts. Is that all right?”

“Uh, s-sure. Yeah.”

“Let’s go. Whenever you’re ready, Tropius.”

“Y-yeah. But, first things first…”

Tropius spreads his wings once more and pauses for a moment. He abruptly turns slightly towards the left, and slashes with his wings, letting out a volley of Razor Leaves. They cut through the air, leaving the luminescence of the skylight into the darkness, and several screams are heard shortly thereafter. Tropius remains stanced up, wings outstretched, and takes several slow, deep breaths. He looks upwards at the skylight one last time then relaxes his wings slightly, solemnly letting loose an “okay”.

The march begins.

Draped in the dark, they slowly spiral clockwise out of the giant clover on the floor. They pace around at a slow speed.

For the first couple of minutes, things are uneventful. No one relents in their heightened senses. No one utters a word.

That is until they reach the end of the second lap. Tropius’s wings twitch. He stops in his tracks, head swinging to the left, as if searching for precision. “Ghosts! At… uh… ten o’clock!”

“Wait…!” Bill immediately faces the direction, his fangs bared in his manic smile. However… “...are they really there? I can’t–”

Bill’s eyes become slightly wider. There are indeed three voids displacing air slightly to the left.

His violent blast of fire scorches two cloth-like blobs.

He then sprints, leaps, and Bites down on the remaining Shuppet. The creature is tossed aside.

Bill stands tall, wary of any other targets. After the tense silence, he breaks it. “Tropius… you’re something else. Your direction was a little off, but you got them farther away than me.”

“I think I may be starting to ‘smell’ those ghosts…?” Gill ponders. “Well… the plan is working anyway. Good on you, Trop!”

The flattery causes a shy smile to form on the sauropod’s face. “H-heheh… it’s nothing, really…”

Having cleared the threat, the trio continues forward, spiraling further out from the apparent center of the dungeon, the only indication of their progress is the growing distance between them and the skylight. Their routine continues uneventfully, with more waves of Shuppets detected and dispatched in similar, efficient manner. Even so, their march in complete darkness wears on them as the possible futility of their search sets in. How can they be certain they’ll find anything in this pitch blackness? Though the torch in Bill’s bag continues to burn, the dim luminescence it provides does little to fend off the shadows weighing down on their spirits.

Bill gasps. His flame flickers. The other two turn to him.

“Don’t worry! Don’t… worry,” he reassures as he steps back from the thing that made him nearly trip.

In front of him is the corner of a giant, perfectly square hole. It is crudely placed between the endless wooden planks, as if perfectly carved out for them. Leading to the darkness below is a ramp, not unlike the one that led them here…

“I… suppose we’re moving on to there?” Bill voices the unspoken question.

“I don’t have any other ideas,” Gill responds.

Tropius pauses, staring at the skylight. He takes a deep breath, but feels little relief of any kind from it. “I-it’s probably our best shot,” he meekly lets out.

Everyone enters the hole. It’s big enough for Tropius not to be inconvenienced by the descent.

…immediately on their way down, they catch the sight below of the same clover-shaped projection from before to their right, beyond a precarious drop-off. It is sitting in the middle of the same enormous room. It’s as if it is the exact same location as before, though now they are descending from a spiraling ramp…

“...that’s… odd,” Bill notices. “The… stained glass is way up there again? Out of reach? We just came out of the ceiling–”

But as they turn around, they see no ceiling behind Tropius. Only the abrupt end of the ramp. There are no signs of the previous “floor” but empty air.

“...That’s even more odd,” Bill adds, baffled. “Where’d the opening we just came through go…?”

A light gust is the only tangible evidence of Tropius shrugging via his wings. “I don’t know. Mystery dungeons are weird like that.” He cranes his head towards the skylight’s glow, then looks at the ramp beneath Bill’s feet, its plummet-threatening edge lit up by the torch. “B-but we shouldn’t dawdle here. There m-might be more ghosts around, and we do not want to be attacked here!”

“Got it.”

“Understood!”

The group thunders down the long spiraling ramp, quickly reaching the base. Tropius spreads his wings, going on alert for any specters haunting the shadows. The three hustle towards the skylight’s embrace, hoping to catch a moment’s reprieve from the dangers of the umbral cloak. They inch closer and closer…

Tropius’s wings quiver.

The dinosaur freezes dead in his tracks—the sensation he just felt in his leafy flights was familiar, yet distinct from the disruptions in air flow he felt on the previous floor.

Unable to properly interpret the difference, Tropius yelps out. “G-ghosts! I feel them!”

Bill immediately assumes a fighting stance. “Where?!”

A faraway sobbing sound is heard.

“A-ah… on the left! Wait, no, the right! No, that can’t be it, they’re on the le-”

A dazzling, iridescent bolt of light strikes Tropius from afar. The recoil leaves him unprepared for the second one on the right. A third one comes from the left again. The sobbing turns into giggling…

“Tropius!” Bill immediately becomes a blur, choosing Tropius’s left side to attack…

Another bolt narrowly grazes Tropius’s swiveling head, this time from a completely different direction.

Even if Gill got the handle on the ghosts’ “scent”, it will do little good. They’re overrun.

Too many ranged attacks. Too inefficient to fight at close range.

And so…

“Tropius!” Gill quickly calls out to him before jumping and landing atop Tropius’s huge back, right over the base of his wings. He dodges one of the multicolored beams in the process. “Please, snap out of it… can you still see them?!”

The ground shakes as Tropius temporarily loses his footing, dazed from the bolts of energy. “Unnnhh…” he groans. “Wh-what?”

Another bolt whizzes right in front of Tropius’s face, missing narrowly. He recoils slightly, shaking his head as though to sober up. “O-oh!” He spreads his wings once more, focusing as deeply as he can given the situation. His wings quiver once more shortly before a beam strikes the top of his head, the blow lessened thanks to his natural helmet.

“Give me a number on the clock! FAST!” Gill commands. His tail is raised. It glows white and starts to bend light, ready to conjure a Rock Slide.

“Ten and three!” he shouts back.

The tail’s white glow explodes into hovering, pointed rocks. Gill looks at his three o’ clock. He shouts at the void.

Stones cut through the air in a relentless rattle to the right, in between Tropius’s wings.

The Rock Slide salvo sprays out and is lost in the dark. Shrieks are successfully heard. Projectiles keep being showered.

“That’s IT!” Gill celebrates, though his face is twisted in concentration as his otherworldly rocks are shot at a constant rate. His legs finally find purchase on the unsteady back. “What other number!?”

Tropius swivels his head towards the left. “Ten! Help your brother out!”

Gill’s eyes squint at his left side now, in between Tropius’s neck and his wing… then growls as the rocks change course and are perfectly shot at that trajectory. More shrieks are heard. “BILL! Watch out, I’m shooting from Tropius’s back!”

“GOT IT! I think I got the last one of—”

Before he can finish, Tropius is struck right between the eyes by an errant beam. He stumbles hard to the right, stomping hard as he attempts to reclaim his balance.

“TROP!” Gill cries out as his footing on the back becomes even more unsteady. A pained screech from the assailant is heard in the distance.

“I-I’m… okay… I just… Urrf… need… my balance…” However, he cannot find it—he continues to swerve left and right, his head waving around haphazardly. The sound of inadvertent stomping prompts Bill and Gill to back away, fearful they will be accidentally trampled by the floundering behemoth.

Tropius tries to focus his sight on the light, the one visible thing in this hellish darkness, but it separates into four copies, all the while spinning, spinning. A high pitched buzz rings in his ears as he clumsily stomps towards one of the mirages.

Bill catches on. Whatever that beam did, it made Tropius dizzy. “OVER HERE! Follow my voice! We’re close to the light!”

Tropius stumbling is reined in slightly while attempting to properly orient himself towards Bill with unsteady movements. Little by little, he haphazardly inches towards the sound of Bill’s voice, who now stands in the safety of the light’s embrace.

Unable to determine the location of any remaining ghosts, Gill jumps around and readies an attack towards Tropius’s six. His tail glows. Rock Slide sprays indiscriminately behind them, hoping to catch any invisible strays. In spite of Tropius’s teetering, Gill keeps his footing.

“We got through this, Tropius!” Bill keeps talking. “Gill can stay on your back! We just need to get to the light, plan this out a bit more, and we’re golden!

Though unsteady, each movement Tropius takes is two steps forward and one step back. After enough time, he trudges out of the darkness into the familiar comfort of the clover skylight.

No longer needing to find stable footing, the sauropod gives up, and chooses to slump down onto his stomach rather violently, prompting Gill to dismount. He drops his head to the floor rather roughly, its random, uncoordinated movements continue as gentle rolling along the floor. His wings languidly unfurl from the center of his back. The plank of wood acting as the makeshift torch is dropped next to him.

“My… head… pounding…” The words ooze out between nauseous groans. “P-please… rest…”

“It’s alright,” Bill calmly reassures. By now, the ringing in Tropius’s ears is fading. “It’s alright… What’s hurting?”

“Just… massive… headache…”

The twins look expectantly at the downed dinosaur.

“...Fine… otherwise… we’re golden…”

“We’re golden?” Bill asks.

“...yeah.” he concludes as he smiles weakly.

The twins look at each other reassuringly. With no apparent wounds or bruises, Tropius wouldn’t be needing any berries to heal up.

“Since when have you been this resourceful?” Bill asks his brother. “Coming up with our plan of attack, shooting from Tropius’s back…”

“People need me here.” the other Growlithe replies.

“Ah, come on,” Bill says, chuckling.

“Hey, Tropius here looks like he needs saving…”


A little under an hour later, things have become uneventful. Having figured out their plan of attack, it only became a matter of combing through the area in a spiral, finding the next ramp seemingly leading further down.... only to be met with the same giant room with the same singular light offering sanctuary from the otherwise overbearing darkness. At first, questions are raised that would not find an answer. Thoughts about the nature of the dungeon. Doubts if they were truly pressing on. No one could come up with any answers—only an endless amount of ghosts met their way. Misdreavus would haunt one floor. The following would go back to Shuppet. Sooner than later, the party became efficient and adept at recognizing patterns in the ghosts’ formations, and yet there was no proper indication of progress.

Eventually, they notice something. The deeper they went, the color on the stained glass would turn ever-so-slightly different. The clover’s many shades of emerald green began to darken. At first, it had shone a brilliant light green. Second floor, it turned faintly gloomier. Third floor, a bit more so… It wasn’t until the seventh floor, when a brown shade was introduced, that it became apparent enough for Bill to point it out loud.

Currently, they’re heading down to the next floor at a slow pace. They had long since lost track of how far they had descended.

“The, uh… brown on the glass is becoming more yellow?” Gill asks as they take a moment to gaze upon the newest skylight projection.

Tropius looks at the clover projection, then squints at the skylight. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think…” His gaze narrows even more. “...I think its color’s finally faded completely.”

Bill looks up at the ceiling. The clover at the center has turned into a dirty blinding white with a shy tinge of gold. The color has indeed vanished by now. The more floors they traverse through, the more it resembles a greenhouse rather than cathedral glass.

“I hope this is not a bad omen,” Bill says, still looking at the new overhead light. “I don’t want to be pessimistic, but I can’t help but feel we’re doing things the way that this Spiritomb wants us to.”

“Only thing left to do is press on and stay alert, right?” Gill reminds him with his own words from a couple floors ago. The Hisuian Growlithe remains seated on Tropius’s back, his body facing the opposite direction. “So… would you do the honors?”

“Ah, right,” Bill answers, forgetting that he’s leading the way down. They continue their descent down the long-winded ramp.

“Trop? You’re not tired, right?” Gill asks as they go down the wooden slope. He shuffles his weight slightly on the base of the wings, trying to get himself comfortable.

The large Pokémon breathes deeply, though it’s not clear if it’s to calm himself or to catch his breath. “I’ll be fine.” He fixates his gaze on the skylight’s glow. “I just need a moment to rest when we reach the light.”

“...did something in particular happen to you in the past?” Gill asks curiously and slowly, as if measuring his words.

Tropius awkwardly sways his head forward, distancing it from his body. “W-what do you mean?”

“Your fear of the dark. You know… Spiritomb is supposed to be trying to get to you and everything. ”

His wings fidget now, prompting Gill to readjust his seating. “U-um… W-well… I d-don’t…”

Tropius suddenly stops. He cranes his head back towards Gill, a motion that serves little practical purpose in the overwhelming darkness. “Hang on, what about you? And your brother, too! This spirit is supposed to be feeding off our fears, right?” His tone sours. “How come I’m the only one being targeted, then!?”

“It’s your place, Tropius,” Bill answers calmly. “It figures that he would take advantage of you the most.”

“Yeah, but…” He sighs, defeated. “Why does it seem like nothing we’ve encountered is specific to you guys? Surely the Spiritomb would try to get at all three of us at least a bit, right?”

There’s a pause as the three are unable to come up with a proper response. Unable to give any sort of answer, the group wordlessly continues their trek down the ramp once more. Tropius rolls his head around shyly before speaking up once more.

“Well, um… if you don’t mind me asking… what are you afraid of, Gill?”

“Oh!” Gill exclaims. He does an exaggerated haughty gesture with his muzzle that no one can appreciate in the dark, let alone while trapped between Tropius’s wings. “Hmph. Since you’re asking… I…”

He looks to his side.

…I don’t like water.”

Uncharacteristically, Bill starts to chuckle openly.

“Oh shut up, Billy,” Gill retorts defensively.

“Don’t pay him any mind, Tropius,” The chuckling brother says, his steps down the ramp not slowing down. “He should know better than to mess with you like this.”

“You think I’m LYING?” Gill questions in exaggerated indignation.

Curving his head back towards the twins, Tropius shoots them an invisibly frustrated look. “Bill, what’s with the laughs? I figured you of all people would understand that people can’t help what they’re afraid of!”

“Don’t mind me, he’s just my brother,” Bill explains in a more somber tone. “Gill here was transformed into something that is doubly weak to water. Once, he tripped and ended up in the guild’s pond, getting him all spooked for no reason. See, unless it’s an actual attack, water doesn’t actually do anything but get him uncomfortably soggy.”

“I thought YOU took what happened to me seriously back then?” the brother snaps back, his voice comically breaking. “Come on, Billy…”

“I did. And I do. You know that better than anyone else,” Bill states somewhat droningly. “Back then, however, I didn’t get much sympathy myself when you made fun of me for overreacting. Now you’re here, way after the fact, being like ‘oh, I’m so afraid of water.’ Get out of here!” he finishes his rant with a smug tone.

“Oh so it’s revenge, isn’t it?! I wouldn’t have expected that from you!”

“Well, excuse me if I can’t indulge in some teasing. You never let me.”

“Hmph!” Gill harrumphs in defeat. His tone becomes serious. “...I’m not lying though, I do my best to try to stay away from water. And normal attacks already do a number on me. Those I can handle, but I can’t imagine getting hit by something that’s several times worse than that.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t worry,” Bill responds, unequivocally back to his solemn demeanor.

“It’s okay, Gill, I get what it’s like. I’m lucky enough to have never fought an Ice-type, but I really can’t handle the cold well like I could before. Besides… I would never poke fun at someone for having a strange fear.” An unseen scowl is directed at Bill.

“Wow Billy. You really screwed up if Trop is siding with me now!” Gill says, not knowing that Tropius is furrowing his brow at what he just said.

Bill sighs. “I-It’s not what it looks like… ah, come on, why can’t I be the one to tease you for once?!”

Tropius waves his head around as though to point. “Look around! Oh wait, you can’t! That’s because this isn’t the place to poke fun at someone’s fears!”

“The important thing! Is that we found some relief in Billy’s very uncouth behavior,” Gill raises his voice. “So maybe it’s time to look at the positives now that we know how to handle the ghosts.”

“Speaking of…” Tropius murmurs. Loose fur flows gently as a light gust blows. “...Hmm…”

There’s only a brief pause before his wings tremble.

“...I feel something, but I’m having trouble discerning what I’m feeling. Might be some type of ghost Pokémon we haven’t seen yet.” He cranes his head back up the ramp, towards the brothers. “Do either of you two smell anything?”

“I think I’ve gotten better at identifying them?” Gill says, unsure. “It’s been some time, I could definitely detect those slight voids in the air…”

“I am tracking a void on our ten, I don’t want to miss it,” Bill notes, deep in concentration. “I take it they’re particularly numerous this time and you’re having issues telling them apart. Meaning that we have to tread carefully this time.”

Tropius rolls his neck in anticipation. “Got it. Let’s just hope they hold off until after we get off this ramp and into the light.”

Shortly after, the trio finish their descent down the ramp, beginning their routine trek to the safety of the skylight. They move methodically, alert for the enemies lurking within the shadows.

They make it not twenty paces before the wings tremble once more.

A loud rumbling reverberates through the room.

Bill gets into position. Tropius spreads his stance wide, ready to fight. Atop him, Gill’s tail glows white and conjures floating stones in advance.

But no enemy attacks them.

Bill relaxes his stance, though not his face. “...where di–”

Another low rumbling shakes the room violently. A loud cracking is heard from above. Bill looks up. One of the leaves of the stained clover skylight is falling soundlessly. It’s about to reach him.

“WATCH OUT!” Tropius screams.

Bill leaps out and Tropius teeters back. The glass shatters with a thunderous crash, splintering into a shower of glittering particles and sharp triangles.

“OUT OF THE WAY!” Bill yells to an immediately compliant Tropius. Gill leaps from his back, his Rock Slide falling apart.

The sauropod continues to awkwardly backpedal, stomping loudly as he hastily scrambles to dodge.

The all-enveloping rumbling repeats itself again. And again. Until it gains a rhythm. A second pane drops. Followed by a third one not long after. They crash one after the other, covering the air and floor with deadly specks.

Away from the danger, Tropius keeps looking up at the hole. His heart sinks at what happens next.

Each rumbling is causing the opening to shrink. As if the ceiling was being forcibly contracted. The trembling comes in like heartbeats. Each one forces the light filtering in to shrink further. And further…

“AAAAAAHHHH!!! NO!!!” Tropius screams. He begins a mad sprint towards the skylight, the area it covers diminishing with every stomp of his feet. He gallops closer and closer, his eyes never moving off of the last clover leaf above, as the light keeps shrinking…

Horrified, Bill takes note of the shrinking light. His manic fighting grin had turned despaired. “GILL! There’s no time to explain, we HAVE to find the next floor and finish the dungeon as soon as possible!”

Gill hesitates as he’s distracted by Tropius’s thunderous sprint. “Wh-what–”

“Tropius is in DANGER! Run around, use fire! FIND THE WAY DOWN! I’ll do the same!”

One twin, followed by the next, proceed to run uncoordinated towards different swaths of the darkness. Short lived tongues of flame illuminate their vicinity intermittently and in vain. None of them manage to trip into the entrance. They spread out further, yet they’re still not successful.

While the brothers desperately search for an exit, the panicked behemoth pants heavily as he dashes, pushing himself as fast as he can to grab what little sunlight remains in the dreary abyss his party has delved so deep into. He runs, getting closer and closer, desperate to make it to the light’s embrace before the final clover leaf falls.

But it’s too late—the last pane slips loose from the ceiling as Tropius nears spitting distance, and he’s forced to skid harshly to avoid being in its line of destruction. The hole it leaves narrows as the glass tumbles through the air, closing up for good as the clover leaf hits the ground with a dreadful crash.

It leaves Tropius without so much as a flicker of light absorbed.

Darkness envelops them completely. There is no light left, save for the scarce embers left behind by the brothers’ firebreathing. The rumbling stops.

As if both had the same idea, the twins run towards Tropius’s smell. “Tropius!” Bill cries out before coming to a stop, wary of the broken glass below. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry, please,” he stammers out.

Tropius slumps to the ground, huddling his head and legs close to his body. His breaths are long and deep, though it’s uncertain if their purpose is self-comfort or merely respiration after sprinting so hard…

“I… I didn’t get any of it…” He breathes more heavily, more quickly. “T-this can’t be h-happening… N-not a-again… P-please…”

“...I’m assuming a torch is not going to do much?” Gill answers, his tone laced with an unusual amount of irony.

“Gill. Listen, Tropius… well–”

“I can set all the fires I can to cheer him up. But it’s not going to help him, now, is it?” Gill snaps back in frustration, surprising Bill. “Then tell me already! If there’s something I don’t know, then–”

The large expanse of wood is lit up by a sudden, intricate series of glowing, whistling cracks. As they turn purple, The massive room begins to glow bright violet from the lighting. The new fissures hum ominously.

A growing spiderweb of glowing cracks covers the floor, walls, ceiling… all like roots and arteries splintering across a living being. All the roads unravel from the same source…

“To have made it this far… EHEHEHE! You’re REALLY making me work for this…!”

A giant, blinding mass of purple blaze flickers and pulsates on the wall, acting like a disgusting parasite. Its formless being stays embedded on the wall. Each flicker sends a glow down the sinuous web of crevices. Despite his body not appearing to be physical, it bears an enormous mouth filled with misshapen teeth and fangs. Green dots sporadically blink and sparkle out of its gaseous body. Anyone would say that they resemble eyes. Inside its grinning, groaning mouth is darkness.

“But the effort’s been worth it, just to see the utter despair on your PATHETIC faces…!”

His voice is deep, phlegmy, and greedy. As imposing for his size, yet boasting the winded, out-of-breath tone only a true glutton would possess. It echoes throughout the room with a spectral reverb.

The mass is larger in size than even Tropius, and it dwarfs the twins. All three are stunned by the appearance of the corpulent entity’s entrance, at first unable to voice their reactions.

“So… this is what we need to get rid of,” Bill’s voice falters in disbelief.

“We’ve… we’ve been busting ghosts all day long... We can take care of him!” Gill gets into position, his tail already glowing in anticipation. His brother follows suit, his face contorting into his intimidating glower.

Tropius doesn’t move from his prone position; he merely angles his gaze up to stare at the eldritch abomination before them. His whole being quivers slightly as he continues to breathe heavily and uneasily.

“Such bravado…!” the entity counters, undeterred by the twins’ aggressive stances.“But it’s unfounded, unwarranted! I am… a particularly tenacious individual out of my crew, as you can see. Soon, you two will tremble like the lowly SLIME cowering before me…!“ The being’s gaseous gaze shifts towards Tropius. Its grin slowly twists as its eyes widen, causing Tropius to recoil meekly.

Bill gathers up enough courage to accentuate his menacing stance. “Bluffing will get you nowhere! We’re confident enough in our strength to defeat you. This will be over soon.”

“Over…?” The miasmic face contorts as its attention shifts to Bill. “But it’s finally time for the fun to begin…! Oh, what a pleasure it will be to see your faces awash with utter FEAR!”

Gill shouts back. “We’ve gotten this far! Aren’t you just a single spirit out of many? You can’t be that strong!”

“You think strength is my power…? EHEHEHE! What a fool you are!” The spirit flashes a menacing smile. “No, my power lay in my understanding of those within my domain… What they love, what they hate… what they fear.” The smile turns sour as the apparition’s expression hardens. “In fact, if it hadn’t been for you dogs’ meddling, I would have had this WORM cowering underneath that skylight forever. He never would have left its safety…! EHEHE! What a joy that would have been to observe!” The joy fades from the spirit’s visage, snarling into a disgruntled scowl. “I failed to anticipate you MUTTS… but it doesn’t matter! You two can’t do anything to save him now…!”

Gill’s tail stops glowing, his own stare turning concerned. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know? EHEHEHE! Oh, how delectable. You all dove into my domain so foolishly, and he didn’t even deign it necessary to tell you? Does he not want you to know? EHEHE EHEHE EHEHEHEHE!!!”

Gill looks back at Tropius. The latter remains silent, shifting to avoid eye contact.

“Silent…? I suppose I’ll just have to be the one to blow the gaff then, EHEHEHE!” Shifting its attention towards Gill, the apparition’s form flares with sadistic excitement. “Your pitiful ‘friend’ cannot withstand this darkness for long. Afraid of the dark, he is… because he subsists on light! Living by daylight, slave to circadian mood swings … but unable to hide in the shadows for it will eventually end his miserable life with a gasp and a whimper.” The gaseous face gazes at Tropius, and makes exaggerated in-out motions with its jagged mouth, as if in mock gasping. “Suck in as much air as you want, it won’t do you any good, EHEHEHE!”

Tropius lies still, unmoving save for the motions of his anxious breathing. Tears start to stream down his cheeks before he can poorly attempt to hide his face, his previously overzealous breathing finally evolving to hyperventilating…

Gill’s expression turns from pitiful to resolute at seeing his comrade’s miserable state. He looks at Bill, who looks at him back in a resigned furrowed stare.

“Granted… I did not want to recourse to this. I played fair and crafted a perfect scenario for him, knowing that he would stay enraptured in fear underneath his own skylight. That would’ve been a laugh! Now that you three have reached me, however… I have no choice but to rid myself of all of you!”

“You won’t do anything to Tropius!” Gill sprints from a standstill right towards the distant amorphous mass. The cracks beneath glow.

At an impossible speed, the floor is torn asunder from below Gill into an enormous sinkhole, stretching out dozens of feet in diameter. Splintered planks fly out in different directions from the abrupt force as ghostly purple tendrils surround the hole.

“NO!” Bill yells in panic.

Gill falls down into the sinkhole below with a cry. As soon as he strikes the bottom, Multiple crashing torrents of pressurized water clash and drop right on top of him. All turns misty and chaotic. His scream is not heard as the water level rises.

“STOP! STOP WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING!” Bill pleads in despair above the noise, torn between jumping in to save his brother and going straight for the Spiritomb apparition. In a split-second decision, he tries to jump towards the water…

But he trips. One of the tendrils had hooked itself onto his hindleg. Or has it? It does not feel physical…

Gill is definitely drowning! He is gasping! Bill can’t do anything about it. None of this would’ve happened if he had turned him down at the start! He can only watch! He is a failure! He is seeing him float and gasp and it’s all his fault! And above the hole, he sees the large silhouette on the other side, ready to punish him! The entity is waiting… is he beckoning him somehow? He should be in the depths with his brother! He has to do something! But he can’t do anything!

…Back in reality, Tropius hopelessly observes as two more tendrils latch on to Bill. Even though their hold is gaseous, their effect is undeniable. Bill had been reduced to a curled up, trembling mess. At this point, the turbulent water levels out. Gill has not resurfaced.

“I may have crafted this place for you, ‘Tropius’!,” the apparition taunts. “But now that your friends are here I can do the same to them! EHEHEH!”

Tropius pokes his gaze from the floor out at the ghost’s grimace. He doesn’t move—he continues to sob on the floor, greedily huffing in air as he cowers.

“What a wonderful fear yours is to observe, you overgrown weed!” Spiritomb’s sadistic grin turns even more sinister as his expression hardens. “But witnessing such delicious horror is not enough anymore! Those MUTTS… they let you come too far, forcing me to emerge in this way! You’ll pay for such insolence!” The ghost laughs as his form shimmers, the aura comprising it seemingly diminishing, if unnoticeably so. “Defend yourself… you’ll only speed to your own demise!” The ghost exaggeratingly mimics Tropius’s hyperventilating.

Two Shuppets float in from the shadows, gazes fixated on the souring sauropod. Tropius looks up at them, but his expression and body language remained unchanged. The cloth puppets rear up before charging, taking turns jabbing Tropius repeatedly with their horns. He curls his wings around his body in an attempt to defend himself, but does little else to avoid harm.

“EHEHEHE! Just as I thought,” the spirit muses with a smug grin. “You’re too pathetic to fight back! It won’t be long now!”

The Spiritomb is right,” Tropius thinks. “I’m… totally pathetic. These Shuppet are tearing me up… it hurts, but if I fight back…” Tropius’s breathing intensifies even further. “No. I can’t lose my breath… No matter what, I can’t lose it ever again...

Both twins are out of commission. One is trapped beneath water, the other reduced to a whimpering mess. Tropius is being assailed by the ghosts.

The room continues to glow violet through the web of cracks and fissures. The only one standing is the enormous purple parasite infesting Tropius’s house. With no one to save them, they are powerless to take on Spiritomb. Unable to leave the dungeon.

Unable to help it.

A choked gasp resounds.

Gill had managed to swim up from the bottom. He’s splashing and floundering at the water’s surface. In between desperate gasps, Gill calls out, begging for help.

“...H-help! So much… w-water! I need… air…!”

The anguished plea wakes Tropius up from his hopeless reverie.

He raises his head away from his chest for the first time since the skylight went out. He looks at Gill, who continues to fight to keep his head above water. While the Shuppets don’t relent in their onslaught, he remains steadfast, weathering their blows.

Tropius stares at Gill, who is barely managing to stay afloat. Each gasp correlates to a calming of Tropius’s own respiratory rate. Each gasp causes his expression to harden. Each gasp causes him to rise a little more from the floor.

Eventually, Tropius is back on his feet, his breathing returned to normal. A determined look overcomes his face and, with a shout, he suddenly blows away the Shuppets that have been pestering him with a Gust. Having disoriented his assailants, he rears forward with a stomp, firing a single Razor Leaf at each of them, causing them to dissipate with a loud shriek.

“Oh? Finally mustered a bit of courage, have we?” the ghost says, with a maniacal grin. “EHEHEHE! Perfect, perfect! Your time will come sooner this way!”

Tropius pants, but he does not flinch nor does he break eye contact with the sadistic spirit. “I… I can still breathe. I’m… I’m not out of time yet,” Tropius commands, staring defiantly at the Spiritomb’s nebulous face.

The Spiritomb frowns, disappointed by the willful response. “Putting on a brave face will get you nowhere!” A purple tendril wriggles out of the water and grabs Gill by the neck before yanking him back into the depths.

“No!” Without hesitation, Tropius gallops towards the flooded sinkhole. Tendrils attempt to obstruct his stampede, but he powers through them with his massive momentum.

Upon reaching the edge of the water, he leaps into the air. He takes a huge breath before angling his head down, and it pierces the surface before the rest of his body follows.

As soon as he’s plunged, he begins to sink, his body not suited for swimming at all. He pays it no mind, however, and simply looks around, searching for Gill. It isn’t long until he spots him, unmoving, slowly being dragged down by the same purple tendril that grabbed him before. Having no experience swimming as a quadruped, let alone one as awkwardly shaped as himself, Tropius haphazardly attempts to paddle with his stumpy legs. It proves ineffective—Gill is very slowly gaining distance from him. Tropius frustratedly flails his stubby limbs to little effect. Anger, frustration, and desperation consumes more and more of his face. At this rate, Gill is going to experience the same fate the darkness was to condemn him to.

“No!,” Tropius’s mind screams. “I… I can’t…”

I can’t let him drown!

The negativity overcoming his expression melts away, replaced by pure determination. His flailing subsides, and he starts maneuvering through the water with more coordination—he starts using his wings to propel himself forward with surprising agility for someone of his build.
The distance between him and Gill begins to lessen, as does the amount of air left in their lungs. Fighting the urge to resurface, Tropius dives deeper, and deeper, managing to get just within mouth’s reach of Gill.

Tropius stretches his neck towards Gill as far as he can, just managing to grab Gill by the scruff with his mouth. With a fierce resolution rarely seen in him, Tropius attempts to wrestle Gill out of the tendril’s grasp. However, it doesn’t relent, instead tightening its grip around his neck.

Without letting go, Tropius eases his pull, realizing he might lose his grip or hurt Gill if he continues to pull like this. Instead, he maneuvers his body, orienting it even further down, causing his neck to curve so he can still hold onto Gill. He eyes up the tendril latching onto Gill, and with a slice of his wings, fires off a Razor Leaf at the base of the tendril. Though the water proves a tougher material to pass through than air, the Razor Leaf still connects with slicing force, severing the purple tentacle. With writhing wiggles, its nebulous form slowly dissipates into the surrounding water, freeing Gill finally from its grasp.

With waterlogged dog secured in maw, Tropius turns upwards towards the surface. The tightness in his chest and soreness in his muscles urge and demotivate his ascent in equal parts. Nonetheless, he perseveres, and it’s not long before Tropius resurfaces from the water, carrying Gill by the scruff, who awakes with a coughing fit.

Soaked and dripping, Tropius weakly climbs out of the hole. He gently places Gill down, before collapsing from exhaustion himself beside him, similarly gasping for air.

The two lie on the ground face to face, exasperated and breathless from their dive. They slowly recover, and both can’t help but smile now that the danger’s passed.

“Trop… hi… uh… I may have… o-overreacted, that water…” Gill mutters. Even if his tone sounds calmer than the situation would imply, he is visibly trembling.

“It’s o-okay…” he responds, his voice breaking.

“Yeah… but… the sunlight. You’re not… and…”

Tropius gives a desperate smile, tears still running down his face despite being soaked.

“You… you looked like you… needed saving.”

The moment Gill looks at his face, lying down on his side… it’s all he needs.

He places both front legs on the floor… and stands up, running towards his brother, still soaked…

“What are you… NO!” The corpulent spirit flickers brightly. “You can’t do this, I’ve already done… I-I mean… gah!”

Gill blows fire all around Bill, dissipating the tendrils. He shakes his trembling body…

Tropius then turns around to the Spiritomb apparition, his eyes suddenly resolute:

“...Bill was… right.”

“What do you mean…?” The spirit says, his tendrils around the hole hopelessly trying to touch Tropius, but failing to reach.

“You’ve been… bluffing,” Tropius says, between pants. “All those floors we went through must have… taken a lot out of you. You’re like me… You’ve been spending your energy, haven’t you?”

Spiritomb furrows his stare.

The dinosaur smirks at the reaction. “We’re making you ‘work for it’... as you put it.”

In the meantime… “Billy! Can you get up?” Gill asks in relief as the other growlithe on the floor appears to look back at him. “It’s fine now…”

“SHUT IT! There’s no way you can do anything to me!” the blob howls.

“I’ve noticed… you’re getting smaller,” Tropius adds. Indeed, the spirit who once used to tower over Tropius is now nearly the same in height. “You’re getting tired!”

Ominously, the Spiritomb ghost remains silent. Tropius pays no mind to the hurried conversation the twins are having as he stares right at him. Then the ghost answers back:

“...eheheheh… Try as you might, things will never go well for you… or any other living beings for that matter. That’s how it always is! That’s how it always will be…! Chaos awaits you all…! It will engulf you… I WILL ENGULF YOU! I MUST!”

The otherworldly scream then flashes the room a violent purple and expels an endless flood of Shuppet from his black mouth. From all sides, the air becomes charged with an infestation of black jellyfish-like entities rapidly flowing from one place to another. Multiple torrents of white foamy water break out from the walls and high from the ceiling. Endless currents splash down onto the floor. Despite the number of streams, they appear unable to flood the enormous room any time soon. Out of the streams are multiple tendrils being dragged out from the force of the currents.

The twins each position themselves next to Tropius, readying their stances.

“Tropius!” Bill yells over the cacophony, by now having completely snapped out of it. “How much time do you have left?”

“Doesn’t matter…!” he exclaims, winded… followed up by him readying himself, wings outstretching audibly. “...we’re gonna end it… right here!”

Gill looks at the storm of weaving cloaks, waterfalls and purple tendrils surrounding them, chaos abounding. He shoots a stream of fire point blank at two Shuppet jetting fast towards them, then shooting a second beam at the general cloud of ghosts in front of them. “He’s overwhelming us!”

“There’s no telling if Spiritomb will run out of energy first, or if Tropius…!” Bill grimly assesses the situation, his words interrupted by him having to spit fire at a nearby Shuppet himself. The amount of Shuppet is too overwhelming to fight them off one by one. If they’re as aggressive as they were before, if not more, then that means they will waste too much time picking them off one by one before Tropius faints. Will they really fend off every single Shuppet anyway? Is that even possible? Or will they…

Tropius stomps on the floor. “Out of the way…!”

His two front wings start flapping viciously in front of him. The twins beside him feel a vivid wind current so potent it would’ve threatened to seriously upset their footing.

Several Shuppet are then pushed back continuously for several yards beyond, cutting a general trajectory towards Spiritomb. Though the Shuppet quickly fill the void, they are inevitably pushed back. Even the tendrils are pushed back more efficiently than what the twins could do.

“We’ll go around… the sinkhole!” Tropius yells, walking at a constant pace into the Shuppet storm. “You two can… finish him off!”

‘That’s a PLAN!” Gill screams as he bounds high from behind, jumping onto Tropius’s bobbing head. Annoyance does not seem to get through Tropius, still concentrated in his task. “Let’s do this!”

Gill’s tail glows and bursts constantly into a voluminous volley of rocks, himself groaning from the exertion. The shots are fired dead on ahead, picking off any stragglers that manage to reach the trio…

“This is… this is it!!” Tropius says as his walking speeds up into a decisive march. “Bill… Gill… you know… the drill!”

Bill immediately understands. Just like before, he starts fending off a swath of Shuppet to the left with a wide beam of fire, easily taking them out. He covers the other side quickly afterwards. Now that detection is not an issue anymore, his attacks are far more effective…

“ARGH! STOP IT!” The smaller Spiritomb yells in frustration, who is now dwarfed by Tropius. He sees the trio making progress towards him, rocks and tongues of fire wildly lashing out and forming a repelling area around and in front of them. As they near, the gusts begin to distort his still voluminous body. They are getting closer for sure. “That’s… that’s as far as you GO!” his winded voice cries out helplessly.

“We’re making it… we’re making it…!” Bill cries out in victory as he fires another blast of sweeping fire at another horde of Shuppet.

The reach of Tropius’s gusts becomes worryingly less able to keep the storm at bay. Bill’s heart drops as he hears what sounds like Tropius wheezing slightly. “...I… I’m running… out…”

“I don’t… know if I can keep this up much longer, either…!” Gill pants atop Tropius’s head as his continuous rapid firing of rocks persists. If Gill were to rest for even a second, the stragglers around Tropius’s gust would become more numerous… “But we can DO IT… I… ugh…!”

But Tropius is not in the same unrelenting mood. His expression is fatigued and his breathing turns heavy…

Multiple Shuppet are closing in. Even Bill is having a hard time trying to take care of the previous wave that threatened to attack their right flank. It’s clearer now that Tropius and Gill’s actions are not as efficient as before.

They are halfway through. However, no attack from here will accurately reach Spiritomb, nor will it promise to be effective.

Their march is dampened. They decelerate. Spiritomb sports a worrying smirk in his grotesque mouth.

Tropius’s head lowers slowly, his wings wilt. “Bill… Gill… We’re not… gonna make it… We’re… doomed…” His breathing is labored.

Bill shakes his head. “Don’t say that! We can do this!”

He coughs weakly. “I can… one last… Gust… p-please… finish this…”

Bill turns around. “Tropius! I won’t… I won’t allow it…!

Gill keeps shooting the continuous Rock Slide atop Tropius’s head. “We’re close!” he lies through gritted teeth. “There’s no need—!”

“N-no… other… w-way…” His face is filled with dread. “P-please… b-before… change… mind…”

The brothers exchange glances, before turning back towards Tropius with a nod. Taking one final, horrific gasp of air, the hypoxic goliath gets on two hindlegs and stomps the ground hard, his sturdy wings falling down in a vicious wide cross. The massive unseeable X is visible for an instant as it tears through the innumerable Shuppet. On a wide diameter, they remain free from any attackers…

…at the cost of Tropius collapsing onto his belly. As his body falls, his loose head drops along with it. “TROPIUS!” Gill screams as he leaps off onto the ground, his Rock Slide having long since been interrupted.

Tropius’s fallen, unmoving head starts to sharply wheeze and heave. The army of ghosts menacingly start filling the void once again. Troublingly, they gather in front of them, clouding the path towards Spiritomb…

“GILL! Tropius bought us time!” Bill yells to Gill. “You remember our ‘thing’, right!? The ‘thing’! I’ll start getting Agility ready!”

Were this another occasion, Gill would’ve been giddy to hear Bill be the one to bring up ‘the thing’ in serious conversation. Instead, Gill quickly nods desperately as he readies another Rock Slide. Bill closes his eyes and starts a series of deep, measured breaths. Shuppet keep closing in. Tropius keeps gasping for air on the ground…

“What are you…?!” the small Spiritomb’s ethereal face contorts in a puzzled expression, shielded by the Shuppet storm.

This time, rather than shooting at the ghosts, Gill’s rocks are all abruptly shot above him at the same fixed point, the rocks violently coalescing into a rapidly growing dark boulder bigger than himself. And it’s growing even larger…

Bill opens his eyes. They glow pink. “READY!”

“GO FOR IT!” a trembling Gill shouts as he jumps backward and sends the massive floating boulder flying dead ahead with a tail swing.

Spiritomb sees the rock flying towards him, swatting all Shuppet in its wake.

A terrified scream is all the ghost can muster before the giant boulder… misses overhead by a wide margin and sinks into the wall above with a mighty crash.

…a previously clinging Bill, who had leaped backwards off the back of the boulder a fraction of a second ago, is looking right at the desperate Spiritomb’s face in his descent through the air. Through the Growlithe’s glowing pink eyes, in his all-seeing clarity, he can appreciate the haughty corpulent being having been reduced to a quivering, smaller version of himself. He is in fact barely bigger than Bill now. There is despair in his open maw, leading straight into a deep darkness. It’s a shot that is impossible to miss.

The resulting point-blank beam of fire pierces the screeching ghost. All goes white.


The first thing Bill’s blurry vision sees is the faintest of silhouettes. As things come into focus, he notices the all-so-familiar skylight greeting his vision. However, it does not look like the usual cathedral-like projection, high above into an inscrutable ceiling. It looks small and ordinary, dotting what is also a rather ordinary wooden ceiling. This version of the clover skylight, however, only projects scant daylight seen through line openings, as though covered by blinds.

Bill gets up, having been laying on his back. Immediately he notices the cramped space he’s in. In fact, Tropius’s inert body makes him unable to roll to the other side. The former is lying in the middle of a much smaller living space. Tropius… and what would appear to be…

“...ugh… Bill?” The other growlithe shakes himself in a drilling motion, having already gotten up on his legs. “...we… we did it, right?”

The wooden cabin they’re in would look like a rather simple, yet comfortable dwelling, but it’s clear that there’s been some sort of a struggle. A table near the edge of the room is on its side, with two chairs thrown into opposite corners of the room. Cotton from the bed in the room’s nook has escaped the now torn-up nesting, and is strewn into random sections of the room. A plank of wood appears to have been torn out of the floor, and faint scorch marks can be found elsewhere on the woodwork.

“Yeah. We did,” he replies to Gill.

Sudden panic makes them jump and look at each other. The idea seemingly crossed their minds at the same time:

“TROPIUS!” Bill remembers.

Their fallen ally lies in the center of the room, unmoving and breathless. Desperately, the twins’ eyes dart between Tropius’s body and all around the room, trying to find a way to give him some light. Were they somehow going to push him off upwards on the ramp, out into the open? There had to be a better way to do it…

“I think I found something!” Gill cries out from the other side of the cramped room, pulling down a tasseled rope. Something clicks.

Noon’s direct sunlight appears from the clover outline on the ceiling, instantly shining down on Tropius’s still body. Now that light filters through the blinds, one is able to see the broken glass precariously jutting out and hanging off the window.

For ten arduous seconds, the twins say nothing. Tropius does not move. Tropius does not breathe.

…Until, suddenly, his wings twitch.

He jolts awake with a huge gasp, followed by continuous, decelerating panting. Disoriented, Tropius cranes his head around from his prone position, trying to piece together where he is now. He smiles weakly as he lies his head down to rest, eyes pointed up towards the brothers.

Both twins exhale in relief. “We really did it," Bill declares, smiling in reassurance.

“YES! HAHA!” Gill cries out in victory, the volume stunning a Tropius still stirring and coming to his senses. “We finally got to use Meteor Mirage on someone! I didn’t actually think you would suggest doing that, Billy! You said it was too impractical...”

Bill can’t help but chuckle at what his brother said. “Well, good thing you didn’t say that attack name out loud before–”

“–or it ‘might have given away the element of deceit’, uh-huh,” Gill completes, annoyed. “Let me have this for once, I was the one who came up with that move!”

“Don’t get defensive! I’m not trying to take that away from you,” Bill retorts, still genuinely happy. “And yeah… that did go really well. With enough practice, maybe it won’t take long for us to–”

“Guys!” Tropius yells. The brothers stop their friendly bickering, turning their attention towards the source of the shout. The dinosaur is on his feet now, though he still seems exhausted. One of his feet is posed forward, and his head is leaned in towards it – underneath it, a small, violet blaze is trying to writhe free from the pressure of Tropius’s foot. “I found this little piece of shit underneath me as I was getting up.”

“And would you look at that,” Gill says. “He’s tiny now.”

“Tiny? TINY?” it squeaks out, squirming harder. “Insolent pup, I’ll… I’ll…” the little blob stops its jittering for a moment, before starting up again with renewed vigor. “AAAAGGGH!!! Release me, you overweight oaf!” it calls out, revealing two small green eyes filled with impotent malice. Its outburst prompts its captor to press down harder, twisting his foot as though to snuff out the ember.

“Shut it!” Tropius commands with a rarely seen anger.

“Tropius, i-it’s fine, he sounds like he’s learning his lesson” Bill says a little perturbed over the wretched high-pitched squealing coming from the ghost.

Tropius glares intensely at Bill. “Learning his lesson? Learning his lesson!? Is that a joke!? After this CREEP turned my house into a dungeon designed solely to torture me? I nearly died!”

“...ugh… Fine! I-I’m… I’m sorryyyy…!” the little blaze cries in torment after the foot leaves him, his green fiery eyes looking pleading and pathetic. “...I won’t do it againnnn… I didn’t mean it—”

The spirit shrieks yet again as its poor choice of words causes Tropius to dig his foot in harder. He leans his head in, with narrowed eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

“Serves him right!” Gill cheers on in spite of his brother. “You gave him what for!”

The spirit flickers and sputters weakly after the last stomp, as if this was his way of showing pain. “...ugh… oh… how come things can’t go my way…? And I had all of you wretches cornered… N-none of you know how much I spent for me to get there! And you'll never understand what I have to go through regularly! You shall never… never understand… no one will…”

“Hmph,” Bill reacts to the whimpering. He walks up to the tiny flame beneath his face and addresses him directly: “...as a… working psychologist, I’ve seen people like you before. Even before then, I knew about them in my studies. Absolute scum, always manipulating people into doing their bidding. Always out for themselves. Always driving everyone away with their incurable behavior. But I believe even those people have hope. Even though I hate you for what you’ve put us through… I think it’s high time you changed. If you reconsider, we could have a talk.”

“What the hell is a psychologist?” the spirit angrily squeals.


“...and remember: your behavior is counterproductive,” Bill recounts calmly to the small purple blaze mounted on his back. “You also seek to control people, even when you don’t mean to. There’s no getting around that with me. So do what I tell you and start realizing the common ground you share with the other ghosts in your life. That can help you truly empathize.”

Spiritomb scoffs, his tiny eyes closed haughtily. “Tch. Whatever you say. Still… I… suppose there is value in your perspective…”

The party reaches the rendezvous point by the entrance of the guild, ready to drop off Spiritomb alongside the other spirits the guild members managed to catch. The spirit leaps off like a flea from Bill’s back as the latter finishes: “I don’t know if we’ll meet again, but if we do, your behavior in private is not going to get a pass from me. So work on yourself.”

“Ugh… fine. And, uh… thank you.”

Still feeling resentful, Tropius shoots a final dirty look at the spirit. It glares back at him with defiance, seemingly unperturbed by his attempt at intimidation. Tropius leans in towards it and stomps his front right foot as he glares at it, prompting the spirit to jump, jump, jump away in terror towards its brethren. Feeling satisfied though still angry, Tropius flares his nostrils before turning around and stomping back off towards his house.

The twins tag along with him after leaving the Spiritomb. Their trajectory appears to be somewhat aimless. Despite the lively mood the two had earlier, an awkward silence forms as it becomes clear the leafy giant finds himself in a different disposition.

“Tropius,” Bill interrupts. “I understand you despise him. I had an awful… experience back there as well. But… I felt like had to do my due diligence and help him out in the best way I—”

Tropius stops dead in his tracks and glares at Bill intensely, causing the latter to freeze up in shock. He continues to stare unnervingly for a few seconds, before the anger fades from his face with a sigh. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just… that dungeon was… awful. It was awful on so many levels. You can claim to understand what it’s like, but I don’t think you can. Muscles screaming for oxygen. Gasping for air in darkness, but feeling no relief. This isn’t the first time this has happened, you know? It didn’t get any easier. I-it…”

His breathing rate picks up, unable to raise his voice above a murmur.

“...I-it really felt like e-every breath I took was g-going to be my last. A-and the way that little shit t-taunted me while I… I-I…”

His face contorts angrily before it slowly turns morose. His head lowers, aimed towards the ground.

“...Never again. P-please, never again. I can’t go through that again…”

“Hey Trop?” Gill addresses him. “Back then, I was also suffocating. I was drowning.”

Tropius makes the minimal effort to look at Gill, his head still angled downwards.

“Water currents were dragging me downwards on all sides and the tendrils were making it worse. They were making me feel as if my body was burning since ‘water’ is my weakness, which was silly. But the thing is…my whole world was coming to an end in the most awful way imaginable, even if a lot of it wasn’t actually real. I thought I wouldn’t make it. Know that you saved me from that.”

Tropius continues to look downwards pensively. “When I heard you surface from the water, gasping for air… I knew exactly how you were feeling in that moment. The desperation, the utter exhaustion, the jagged pain piercing your entire body… I don’t want anyone to feel that way. I’m… I’m glad I was able to help, I guess….”

The light frown he wears intensifies, however.

“But, even so… “

Gill shakes his head. “I’m not trying to downplay your needs. It’s a horrible thing that we witnessed firsthand. Bill or… well, even I might not exactly understand you and the things you go through. But with a great guy like my brother trying to save you, even now offering his support… who’s to say you won’t climb out from that darkness? And perhaps… no, surely… people in time will need your help as well. Just the same way I needed you.”

Bill reaches out to Tropius’s leg with a paw. “And… rest assured I will help you as much as I can. And I am truly, truly grateful for what you did to my brother. No one can deny you’re brave.”

Feeling overcome by the brothers’ gratitude, tears begin to well up in Tropius’s eyes. He quickly looks away in an effort to hide it, but his voice’s suddenly higher pitch gives him away. “Y-you guys… th-thank you…”

With a cough and a fierce blink, Tropius manages to recompose himself. He even smiles a bit. “But… I should be the one thanking you. Without your help, there was no way I was going to be able to get that spirit out of my house. You were nothing but kind and supportive our entire time in that dungeon. I… I really can’t express my appreciation enough. If there’s anything I can do to help either of you in the future, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“It was nothing,” both twins say at the same time. They can’t help but chuckle at the same time.

The trio finish their walk back, this time intently heading towards Tropius’s house. Its owner lights up, and turns towards the brothers with a smile. “Hey, why don’t you two come in? I’m sure you’re both as tired and hungry as I am after this whole ordeal, and I bet the guild’s dining hall is still out of commission.”

“Really? You have food there? Heheh, I honestly don’t know how you manage…” Gill comments.

Tropius chuckles lightly as he pulls on the handle to his front door. “When you’ve been in my position as long as I’ve been, you find ways to—”

The trio peer down into the house as the door swivels fully open. Between the broken floorboard, scattered furniture, and shards of glass underneath the hole in the ceiling, the place is in unusable disarray.

“...make do without hands,” Tropius finishes dejectedly.

Bill immediately walks away. “I’ll get the broom.”

Edit

Pub: 30 Nov 2025 00:47 UTC

Edit: 15 Dec 2025 21:30 UTC

Views: 121