A single slate.
Irregular hexagon.
Faint pink glow aside, it looked plain as dirt.
But come on—something surviving the collapse of an Unown-crafted "world"? No way it's ordinary.
Plus, the Pokémon world's top "artifact" is a slate.
Legend says Arceus predates the universe, a mythic Pokémon born from an egg in the void, then shaping reality.
The shattered eggshell orbits it—each shard tied to a Pokémon type. With a shard, Arceus shifts types, uses any move, shrugs off that type's hits.
In theory, all shards = total immunity.
But for whatever reason, Arceus keeps losing bits. Detached, they turn to slates.
Akira hadn't seen one, but confirming it? Easy.
Deep breath, steady rhythm—he grabbed the slate.
Warm, smooth—not stone-cold.
Unown etched on it.
Just carvings, though—save one tiny, live one at the center.
That pink glow? Its doing. The same Unown that lured him to the shelter.
"Sweet—you're still here."
Akira grinned, his wish answered.
The pink-white Unown blinked, then shut its eye like it was tuckered out. The glow faded.
But it didn't dissolve into particles like the others. That was enough.
Asleep now, it'd wake someday.
A spark lingers, and a blaze will follow.
Akira hugged the slate gently, teasing out a wisp of Sabrina's psychic power to probe.
Next second—bounced back, not even grazing it.
Pretty much confirmed: one of Arceus's slates.
Power to prop a "mini-world."
Unown markings.
Psychic-nullifying quirk.
Every Pokémon type has a color—pink's Psychic. Akira's got Z-Crystals and shards to match.
He could test other type attacks—full immunity's off the table, but a real Arceus slate wouldn't crack easy.
Thought flitted, then dropped.
Real or not, it's moot. Slates shine in Arceus's hands, and I'm no Arceus.
"Spin around me if you dare—do it, and I'll solo Gojo and full-power Sukuna together."
The slate stayed quiet against his chest, zilch.
No reaction—and with the pink Unown out, the surrounding dark wobbled, teetering on collapse without support.
No clue where to go, slate in arms, Akira gave up moving. He stood, even ribbing the system:
"Your item module's trash—start to finish, just one Z-Crystal. Non-Pokémon stuff aside, no response for related gear either?"
System matched the slate—silenter than ellipsis-spamming Red.
"Or what, only stuff you 'judge' gets logged?"
Still nada.
Not shocked, but a bit deflated.
Even knowing this world's Pokémon ties, his system's riddle stayed locked.
No ping from Arceus's slate—does that mean his system's got squat to do with Pokémon gods or rules?
Or was he off from jump, and this isn't an Arceus shard?
Not that he's obsessed—unknown stuff in your pocket just itches the curiosity.
Mulling it over, the endless dark hit its limit. Light pierced the seal, yanking Akira and his Pokémon back to reality.
Same mountain.
Water… gone. Just a blank patch—no Wishing Pool, no cave, not even a dip.
Clean like nothing happened—like a dream.
If not for the slate in his arms and Gardevoir's clear case.
"Done. Next, get Jujutsu HQ to scan the spirit field—see if it's cleared."
Tucking the slate away, Akira exhaled slow.
"Now it's all headaches. How do I write this report? What do I do with this stuff? Ugh… something's off. Did it just get colder?"
Breath hit air, puffing white—none of that pre-climb. Too long inside?
Mid-thought, his lower half buzzed—wilder than some Taiwanese celeb's toy motor.
Phone alerts, overheating like crazy.
"How much piled up—WHOA!!!"
Screen lit, and Akira gaped.
Pop-ups and refreshes flooded—nuts.
Wilder still: one tick, system clock read December 10, 3:08 PM; next, December 24, 4:55 PM.
Half a month gone.
Phones auto-sync time online—Akira didn't doubt it, especially with alerts still rolling.
But his gut? Half a day, tops.
A day in the mountains, months in the world.
The shelter's time flow didn't match reality.
That's it—why so much survived.
By that logic, Pokémon civ might be a legit prehistoric super-ancient deal. This shelter? A true relic.
Answers for that, he'd chase in life ahead.
One slate down, Pokémon civ's treasures far beyond that case. The Sacred Beasts? Low-tier Legends.
Akira didn't buy Earth hosting just one shelter.
"Cool—life needs goals. Just eating and coasting to death's kinda dull."
Skyward glance—sun grinned.
Groundward peek—north wind howled.
His phone quit buzzing then.
Last message on-screen—
Sender: Masamichi Yaga.