After leaping out of the lake, the Shellder scanned the shore.
Upon spotting the King’s Rock atop the Slowpoke’s head, its expression shifted to one of understanding.
So that’s how it was.
Clacking its shell, the Shellder hopped to Slowpoke’s side and quietly awaited its destined mont.
After evolution, it would beco part of another Pokémon.
Though it would retain its own thoughts, it could no longer move, speak, or express emotions.
It would exist like a repulsive parasite, growing by siphoning nutrients from the Slowpoke.
No longer an independent being, but a re component of another creature.
Such a future felt suffocating just to imagine.
Yet the Shellder seed utterly calm, as if it had long prepared itself for this—even welcoming it eagerly.
“So you’ve already made arrangents…”
“…and even convinced it willingly.”
Natsu watched the Shellder lingering near the Slowpoke, seemingly in a daze, and felt surprised.
He knew this Slowpoke was clever, but hadn’t expected it to procure its own Shellder for evolution in advance—and to ta the creature into willingly becoming its “component.”
Yes, component.
No matter how kindly phrased, Slowpoke’s evolution required a Shellder’s cooperation.
All the Shellder’s past joys, sorrows, and efforts would vanish the mont evolution took hold. No one would rember the Shellder; they’d only think of Slowking. Thus, trainers rarely allowed their own Shellder to evolve their Slowpoke.
Even wild Shellder avoided this fate—unless driven by insatiable hunger (scratch that).
Of course, in so ways, this might be a good outco for the Shellder?
After evolving into Slowbro, it would no longer hunt or struggle to survive, instead waking daily to savor sweet secretions from Slowbro’s tail.
“Slow.”
I simply explained the situation.
Perhaps because evolution neared, Slowpoke shed its usual vacant deanor.
The act was no longer necessary.
“…Alright.”
Noticing Slowpoke’s disinterest in conversation, Natsu stepped back to give it space.
The Slowpoke, adorned with the King’s Rock, glanced at the Shellder at its feet.
“Slow?”
Do you have any last wishes?
The Shellder shook its head calmly.
It had none.
Even before drifting to the farm’s lake and eting Slowpoke, its days had been aningless: eating seaweed, hiding, sleeping—an endless cycle of survival for survival’s sake.
Now, at least, it had found purpose.
“Slow.”
Then let us evolve.
Slowpoke lowered its head, offering it to the Shellder—a gesture that left it visibly uneasy.
This felt like surrendering its life to another creature.
Uncomfortable.
CRACK!
Without hesitation, the Shellder clamped onto Slowpoke’s head.
In the next instant, evolution’s radiant light erupted—
Natsu’s second evolution witnessed that day.
No matter how often seen, this brilliance never lost its awe.
Perhaps this is life’s true miracle.
Within the light, Slowpoke’s face flickered with rare excitent.
It had waited so long for this mont.
Finally… evolution!
mories surged—
Slowpoke had always been unusual.
It knew this well.
While others in its tribe mindlessly fished with their tails by the lake, it had pondered its future.
But it hadn’t always been special.
Once, it was just another Slowpoke in the herd, waking daily to scavenge berries, following the crowd, its mind a fog.
That era was one it preferred to forget—not because of its peers, but because it couldn’t bear rembering its own past idiocy.
Like humans cringing at their teenage selves, it refused to revisit those “dark ages.”
Everything changed one midnight.
Hunger drove it into a canyon, where Psychic-types gathered—
Lunatone and Solrock most nurous.
Bathed in moonlight, they perford an eerie ritual, as if summoned by unseen forces.
In the canyon’s heart, Grumpig danced strangely, owstic chanted, Musharna exhaled pink mist.
Sigilyph guarded the rite, while Reuniclus ferried materials.
Under the guidance of Lunatone and Solrock, moonlight and other unseen forces coalesced into nearly tangible rays of light, funneling into a gemstone at the valley’s heart.
All proceeded orderly—
until the brainless Slowpoke blundered in.
Uncomprehending, it spotted berries and lunged. Under the hollow gazes of the Psychic horde, it devoured a berry and kicked aside a frozen Reuniclus blocking its path.
Then…
It rembered little.
Only that the ritual spiraled out of control.
Agony seared its body—as if bursting.
Sothing flooded into it; sothing else drained out.
Warmth spread—Blood, it realized belatedly.
Am I dying?
That was its final thought before darkness took it.
Yet upon waking, it lay unhard by a mirror-clear lake.
“Slow?”
Confused, it discovered newfound Psychic power: a crushing telekinetic force erupting at will—
uncontrollable, destructive.
Attempting to pluck a berry obliterated the entire tree. As it rampaged, a breeze stirred.
A small Pokémon erged from the lake—a gray-bodied, red-gemd creature resembling a mythic lake sprite.
“Slow?”
Who are you?
Slowpoke tilted its head.
So tiny. Can’t see clearly.
Unleashed Psychic energy surged toward the creature.
Disaster!
Slowpoke panicked but couldn’t stop it—yet the energy dissolved upon contact, vanishing like snow in sunlight.
‘I am Uxie.’
The voice resonated in Slowpoke’s mind.
The floating Uxie drew near.
‘You disrupted a ritual last night. The surge nearly destroyed you.’
‘I brought you here. Now, you’ll learn to control this power.’
Without awaiting consent, Uxie lifted a paw.
Slowpoke floated helplessly into the air, its Psychic abilities inert despite its thrashing.
‘I considered sealing your power until you evolved into Slowking,’ Uxie mused,
‘but teaching you now will save future trouble.’
‘Stay here. You’ll be fed.’
Slowpoke scratched its head. How’d you know I was hungry?
Can you read minds?
Uxie didn’t answer.
(Of course it could.)
Lonely from silence, Uxie began sharing countless tales during their ti together.
Thus, Slowpoke pieced together the truth: A Pokémon nad Deoxys sought to awaken its kin, hypnotizing Psychic-types to fuel a ritual.
Slowpoke’s interruption—kicking a crucial Reuniclus—combined with Uxie’s clash against Deoxys, had funneled the ritual’s energy into Slowpoke.
Uxie’s ally had barely stabilized it.
In the end, Deoxys’s rage forced Uxie to flee with help from friends.
The hypnotized Psychic-types remained in the energy-rich canyon—a minor paradise for their kind.
Through Uxie, Slowpoke’s intelligence grew.
So itchy… feels like I’m growing a brain.
Life was peaceful, idyllic.
Slowpoke cherished it.
Uxie once described its possible evolutions: four forms, including regional variants—a promising future.
Slowpoke resolved to beco Slowking: not just for its latent power, but because Uxie called it the wisest form.
Uxie is wise. I want to be like Uxie.
It had co to view Uxie as a dear friend.
But one day, tranquility shattered. Uxie urgently spouted incomprehensible words, sealed Slowpoke’s unstable power, and flung it far away, saying, ‘The seal breaks upon evolution.’
Slowpoke tried returning, but found only scorched earth—cracked ground, dried lake.
After a month, it accepted Uxie’s absence.
Leaving a crude marker of stones and twigs, it embarked on a journey, seeking Uxie while chasing evolution.
Along the way, it t a holess Mudkip—a tiny refugee. Slowpoke took it in, mirroring Uxie’s kindness. Later, they encountered a human:
“Hello. I’m Natsu, the owner of this farm.”
Initially, it planned to leave Mudkip at the farm and resu its quest alone.
But circumstances—and Mudkip’s attachnt—kept it there.
Guess I’ve grown attached too.
Besides, wandering aimlessly seed futile.
Maybe this human, Natsu, can help.
When Natsu later discussed evolution, Slowpoke doubted he’d procure the rare King’s Rock—yet he did.
Now, as the evolution glow faded,
Natsu’s voice rang out:
“Congratulations… Slowking.”
Eyes opened, Slowking made its grand debut.
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