Aoki remained standing upright, his posture unwavering.
This scene existed only within his imagination. Over recent days, every time he closed his eyes, he had been refining this constructed world, meticulously eliminating flaws and weaknesses. The effort had paid off—the simulation now felt seamless, indistinguishable from reality in its vividness.
"Who are you?" The silence between them stretched before Lysandre repeated the question for the third time. But each iteration carried a different weight. The first had been laced with skepticism, the second with challenge, but now, his voice wavered, stripped of its usual conviction.
Aoki had anticipated this. He knew Lysandre's vulnerabilities intimately. Through Lance's intelligence reports, the accounts of Korrina and Drasna, and the revelations from Professor Sycamore, he had pieced together a comprehensive understanding of the man. Combined with his prior knowledge, Aoki had crafted this dreamscape to exploit every fracture in Lysandre's resolve.
"I am the one who will make your dream a reality," Aoki replied.
"My... dream?" Lysandre echoed, the words heavy on his tongue. He pushed himself upright, gaze sweeping across the crumbling world around them. The legendary Pokémon rampaged unchecked, reducing cities to rubble, the very earth splitting beneath their power.
"Look at them," Aoki pressed. "Think. This is a dream, yes—but who could fabricate it so perfectly? Who could conjure these legends, these gods, with such precision? Have you ever witnessed even one of them in your lifetime?"
Lysandre's jaw tightened. The logic was inescapable. The detail was too exact, too real. Even Zygarde, whose existence he knew best, had revealed forms beyond his understanding here. He wanted to argue, but the evidence sprawled before him, undeniable.
"Then... what do you offer?" Lysandre finally asked. "And what do you demand in return?"
Aoki smiled. "Patience. Observe this world first. I've walked it countless times, but the first viewing... that stays with you."
Without objection, Lysandre began to walk, his boots crunching over debris as the apocalypse unfolded around them. The legendary Pokémon ignored them entirely, their cataclysmic attacks passing harmlessly through their forms. Yet with every step, Lysandre's doubt eroded further.
The realism was staggering. The ruins of Lumiose City's Prism Tower, the smoldering remnants of Geosenge's megaliths—each landmark was rendered flawlessly, albeit ravaged. This wasn't mere illusion; it was a memory, a vision of the future only one who had seen it could replicate.
A hollow ache spread through Lysandre's chest. Aoki's earlier words—a broken world, a broken people—resonated deeper now. His own crusade had lacked direction, a nebulous urge to "fix" humanity without a true path forward. But here, in this nightmare, the answer crystallized: purification through fire. If the world was beyond saving, then let it burn, so something new might rise from the ashes.
He halted abruptly, turning to face Aoki.
"What should I call you?" This time, his tone held deference.
Aoki exhaled inwardly. The idea had taken root, its seeds nurtured by Lysandre's own despair. The man had chosen to believe, and that made all the difference.
"Call me... Master Mu," Aoki said, stepping past him to lead the way.
"Master Mu... A priest?" Lysandre murmured, testing the title. It fit. A guide, a savior—one who would cleanse the world's rot.
Aoki suppressed a smirk. Let him interpret it as he wished. The label didn't matter; the obedience did.
"What now, Pastor?" Lysandre asked.
"Now," Aoki said, "you witness the culmination."
With a snap of his fingers, the dream shifted violently, hurling them back to the central square of the nameless Kalosian town. The Ultimate Weapon loomed before them, its obelisk form pulsing with energy. Then—
BOOM.
A searing beam of light erupted skyward. The blast radius spread like wildfire, annihilating everything in its path until only scattered fragments remained.
"The Flare of Annihilation..." Lysandre breathed, transfixed.
Aoki said nothing. He simply raised his hand—
And the dream shattered.
They stood once more in Lysandre's secret base, the vision ended, but its imprint permanent.