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In a world where the faith of the Old Ones, ancient and faceless gods residing in the green wood, once thrived among the First Men and the Children of the Forest, a shift occurred with the Andal Invasion. The Faith of the Seven gained prominence, leading to the destruction of weirwoods in the southern realms, except for the Isle of Faces guarded by green men. However, in the North, the faith in the Old Ones persisted, with every castle maintaining a Godswood and a heart tree adorned with mysterious faces. Unlike other mortal gods, the identity of the Old Ones remained elusive, represented only by weirwood trees, sometimes resembling a horned deity. The rulers of the First Men, instead of adorning themselves with precious helms, chose antler helms, considering them divine symbols connecting to their bloodline origins. Enter Jay, who, after a reincarnation, unexpectedly becomes the God of Life, Xerneas, inadvertently revitalizing the faith in the Old Ones. This sets the stage for a story exploring the clash of ancient beliefs, the resurgence of a forgotten faith, and the mystical journey of a Pokémon deity reborn in a world torn between dead and living.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Tired.
Was that good? No idea. Probably not. Who would've thought one damn trailer could send him spiraling into an entire series binge—so deep that he actually bunked class just to satisfy his curiosity? A terrible decision, in hindsight.
And for what?
Did the ending satisfy him?
No.
Big. Fat. NO.
Characters? Ruined. Plot? Trampled. Years of buildup? Set on fire and thrown off a cliff. The last season took everything and flushed it straight into the sewers. He exhaled, shutting his eyes.
No more Game of Thrones. Never again.
…Wait.
Who the hell were those people?
Strangers. Dressed weird. Horns? Green? Why were they kneeling?
Oh, great. Another bizarre dream.
What was he even doing these days? Day after day, vision after vision—his life was turning into a bad acid trip. And then, there it was. The moment he found himself standing against… himself? The other side of him. The so-called Old God. A being with too many names and way too much drama.
But if that was him… then who the hell was he?
God?
He didn't know why his brain even went there. It was just a dream, right? Right?
He felt old. Like, weirdly ancient. Something was messing with him—an illusion, maybe. Some kind of trick playing on his senses. But honestly? He was too tired to care anymore.
Because both he and the figure standing before him spoke at the same time.
"I'm Xerneas. The God of Life."
…Ah. F**k.
----------------
Meanwhile, in the Gods Eye River, everything was calm. Peaceful. Idyllic.
Until it wasn't.
The mist thickened, the river stirred, and suddenly, the damn tree in the middle of the island decided it had enough of being a tree. A soft green glow pulsed from its bark, and fireflies began swirling around like they were part of some dramatic stage performance.
Then—bam.
A golden light exploded into the sky. Birds? Singing. Animals? Rejoicing. Nature? Throwing the biggest party it had ever seen.
And right at the center of this Disney-level spectacle, the heart tree began its dramatic metamorphosis. Its branches twisted and stretched, shifting into majestic antlers—four pairs, because why not—while its trunk reshaped into the body of a towering stag-like creature. Gold-trimmed legs. Vibrant markings. Eyes glowing an unsettling shade of blue. And then, as if that wasn't extra enough, the whole damn thing started radiating seven colors.
Because of course it did.
The river celebrated. The forest rejoiced. Birds and animals let out a symphony of melodic screams.
And in the middle of it all—Xerneas just stood there.
Staring.
Not celebrating. Not rejoicing. Just… processing.
His glowing blue eyes twitched as he whispered, "Oh god. Oh god. Wait—I'm the God?"
A pause.
"No, no, no. I'm dreaming. This is a dream. But why is it so real?!"
Cue existential crisis.
His mind felt… off. His memories were there, but not there. Names, faces—they were like smudged ink on wet paper. Blurry. Fuzzy. Incomplete.
And the moment that anxiety hit?
Nature lost its collective sht*.
The once-peaceful river raged. The clear sky? Darkened like some divine mood swing. Thunder rumbled. Birds and animals—who were just having the time of their lives—shut up real fast. Silence fell.
Damn.
All that chaos, just because he had a moment of self-doubt? That was a lot.
Thankfully, something strange happened.
The trees—yes, the literal trees—seemed to talk to him. Not in words, but in their own way, like a comforting hum, a plea to calm the hell down.
And somehow, he did.
His breathing steadied. The sky cleared. The river stilled.
But then—
He took a step.
And flowers grew.
Wait.
Another step.
More flowers.
Step.
More.
And that's when it hit him.
Why the hell did walking feel so… weird?
Slowly, carefully, he looked down.
Four legs.
Not two.
"...Wait."
His memories snapped into place. The sky darkened again. Lightning flashed.
His mouth opened, voice a whisper of sheer disbelief—
"Poke... Pokémon?"
[
The author is here, guys! I just want to remaster my fanfic. Don't worry if you've already read it, but it's not a bad idea to check it out again. Take care!
]
