Chapter 393: Old Fellow

When Huo La and his party's Gyarados slowly landed on the Sinnoh Temple plaza, the first sight was a pitch‑black Arceus standing silently.

But the once‑majestic Zekrom curled up in a corner, its head bowed, lacking its former aura, radiating a wilted atmosphere.

Not far away, the Great Diamond Ore and A Zhu lay on the ground, their breaths faint.

"This… what's happening?" Xiao Zhao covered her mouth, eyes full of shock, voice trembling, staring at the scene at a loss.

Shan Kui gently tugged Xiao Zhao's sleeve, gave a slight shake of the head, signaling her to stay calm, while his gaze remained fixed on the figure ahead, full of astonishment.

Huo La inhaled deeply, stepped forward slowly; the Gyarados behind him instantly assumed a battle stance, muscles taut, ready for any sudden situation, eyes scanning the surroundings warily, fearing an accident.

Just as Huo La was full of bewilderment, unsure of the situation, a voice heavy with the weight of years rang in his mind, its tone laden with melancholy and vicissitude: "Old fellow, you have arrived."

The address made Huo La's heart jolt; he instinctively looked around, only to find Xiao Zhao and Shan Kui unmoved—clearly, the voice could be heard only by him.

He glanced at the black Arceus, eyes probing, just as he was about to ask, the voice sounded again: "Capture Zekrom and fully liberate that human."

Huo La hesitated briefly, looking at the powerless Zekrom before him, and ultimately chose to trust the voice.

He pulled out a Pokeball, tossed it lightly; a flash of light surged, and Zekrom, showing no resistance, was instantly drawn into the Pokeball.

Xiao Zhao and Shan Kui, standing nearby, were first stunned, their faces puzzled at Huo La's sudden Pokeball pull, and then, upon seeing Zekrom easily captured, both were completely dumbfounded, eyes filled with disbelief.

Instinctively they tried to speak, but suddenly found they could not produce any sound, only exchanging a frantic glance, faces bewildered.

Meanwhile, the black Arceus a short distance away took slow steps, advancing toward Huo La.

Xiao Zhao and Shan Kui dared not breathe, their gazes full of shock, watching as Arceus, under their incredulous stare, slowly bowed its head, gently pressing its forehead against Huo La's, a faint glow swirling around it.

At that moment, Huo La seemed to be in a void, no ground beneath his feet, surrounded by endless emptiness, with only distant towering skyscrapers clearly visible.

Rows upon rows of buildings rose from the ground; the streets teemed with traffic and bustling voices, car horns and pedestrians' chatter interweaving, vivid and familiar, strikingly like the distant hometown deep in his memory.

His eyes instantly grew hot, emotions surged from within, tears involuntarily slipped down his cheeks, the longing and affection hidden in his heart bursting forth at that moment.

"Familiar?" a familiar voice sounded beside his ear, gentle yet tinged with wistfulness.

Huo La snapped back to awareness, the scene shifting; looking up, he saw across a young man in a black trench coat, upright, his brows and eyes bearing a hint of cheerfulness, and upon closer look, he resembled the projected "young hero" by about seventy percent.

The young man lifted the coffee cup before him, took a gentle sip, and smiled: "Try it, is it the taste from your memory?"

Huo La lowered his head and saw a cup of dark brown Americano before him, steam rising.

He lifted the cup, took a small sip; the familiar bitterness and richness spread across his tongue, indistinguishable from the hometown flavor in his memory.

"I still can't get used to Americano," Huo La said softly, a hint of embarrassment in his tone, "Could I have a latte instead?"

The young man chuckled lowly, his tone teasing: "You don't drink Americano, you 'Old fellow' don't seem like a proper workhorse."

Even so, he snapped his fingers lightly, and the Americano before Huo La instantly turned into a silky, creamy latte, the foam fine, aroma fragrant.

Huo La lifted the latte, took a gentle sip, a relieved smile appearing in his eyes, and softly remarked: "That's the flavor, exactly the same as in my memory."

"Indeed," the young man set down his cup, his tone now tinged with wistfulness, "This taste can only exist in memory now."

Huo La set his coffee cup down, his gaze quietly fixed on the young man opposite, patiently awaiting his words.

The young man's gaze softened as he looked out the window, watching the endless flow of people below and the bustling street, distant murmur of noise at his ears; he once again slowly lifted the Americano before him, took a sip, and after his breath steadied, spoke softly, his tone carrying a hint of relief and sentiment: "Regarding that great battle, Regigigas should have already told you, right? As for the rest of the past, just listen to me at your own pace—consider me, this old fellow, finally having someone to confide in properly."

"I don't know how it chose you, but I'm different from you," he paused, his eyes gaining sincerity, "I'm just an ordinary middle‑aged corporate drone, no attachments, no burdens, a two‑point‑line life; after work, my only joy is playing everything Pokemon‑related."

Speaking of that, his eyes lit up and his tone grew eager: "From the classic handheld titles to the mobile spin‑offs, from the original Pokémon Yellow version to the later Z‑A, even the casual Go and Sleep, and the simulation‑management Pokémon Café Mix, I haven't missed a single one, every detail etched clearly in my mind. I haven't missed a single manga or anime either."

When his words ended, the fervor on his face gradually faded, replaced by a wry smile, his tone sinking: "Until that day, when 'Wind and Waves' officially released, I was so excited I took leave from work, streamed a home playthrough, staying awake for a full 36 hours, not even managing a bite of hot rice… In the end, I finally got the essential condition of a time‑traveler—sudden death!"

No superfluous embellishment, no deliberate melodrama, yet it hides an unspeakable helplessness and regret, as if the long‑buried emotions were gently poured out through these few sentences.