The dark moors of the Virtyl Wood hid many things. Even in broad daylight, with the sun’s long, shining fingers poking through the leaves and branches of the forest canopy, the naked eyes of most beings could see not the homes of the birds and insects built into the trees, not the nocturnal beasts sleeping under blankets of moss while they waited for the rays of the sun to fade away, not Hyle. The Lucario waited, hidden beneath the thick veil of shadows and foliage. He was invisible, and yet all was visible to him. His senses were fine-tuned, even for a Lucario. The spikes protruding from the backs of his paws were longer and sharper than the norm, enhanced by years of battle, desperate warfare against an enemy that seemed unstoppable.

But Hyle knew this foe could be defeated. They were not invincible; he had seen them die, he had killed them himself. His fur was quite different than that of most Lucario; the varying shades of yellow and dark blue had become a nearly identical single shade of grey. This was from the battles he’d survived and fought; extended contact and combat with these fiends had oddly discoloured his coat. He was not particularly old, middle-aged was more like it. But he could still not fail his duties here; he had two beautiful little pups, both female, waiting for their father to come home from his long patrol, as well as his loving mate for ten years. He had a family he had to come home to. He had many more families depending on him to stay here and keep watch three more days before another scout took his place.

For two weeks, nothing had appeared. Some convoys full of able-bodied soldiers came to and from the village Hyle was keeping watch to protect, Jurler. Most of the soldiers returning were dead and dying. Most of those going were likely to meet the same fate. Hyle could understand why most of his kind feared this enemy so; for every one of them that fell in battle, three or more Pokemon went down with it. It truly did seem like a hopeless battle. Empires had already fallen at this enemy’s feet. Thousands charged into battle to face them, but few returned from these clashes. But Hyle had not given up hope. Hopelessness was not a word he believed should ever be used. There was a way to end this war in victory for his kind, and one day someone would find it and save their world.

The air was filled with the chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects; the sweet scent of flowers tried to lull Hyle into a false sense of relaxation, but failed. The sun was soon to set. Soon the Gliscors would come down from the treetops where they slept during the day with their venomous stingers and crushing claws; the pack of Houndoom would soon stalk the wood, baying their bloodthirsty cries at the moon; but none of these beasts would notice the expertly hidden Hyle, and if the enemy attacked then in the night they would face much more resistance then they would in the day.

The Lucario race had sixth sense no other Pokemon had; the ability to sense the aura of other creatures. Hyle sensed an aura now; either a wild Pokemon species that would wander past him or an approaching convoy. The enemy were not creatures of mere flesh and blood, and thus had no aura. No, this aura was too weak to be a convoy, too familiar to be a Wild One.

“Hyle!” a husky voice called out. “I dunno where the hell you are, but you’re gonna wanna come out. You’re free to go.”

Hyle recognized this voice as Yalsh, a short and stocky Linoone who would come and patrol the wood after the Lucario’s own duties were finished. Hyle stepped out of his hiding place. His crimson eyes stared intensely- the only way he ever knew how to stare- into Yalsh’s pale green eyes.

“Y-you’ve been discharged. You can go home,” Yalsh stuttered, obviously intimidated by Hyle.

“Why?” questioned Hyle, who almost startled himself with the sudden sound of his own voice; he hadn’t spoken in weeks, and his voice was now hoarse from disuse.

“What? Why what?”

“Why have I been discharged?”

“I-I dunno. The elders just want you to come back to the village. I ain’t gonna question the elders, Hyle, you know the consequences of that.”

“Of course; a night with the Wild Ones. That isn’t so terrible if you know how to handle them.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t know how to handle them. Now get outta here.”

Jurler was as Hyle left it a month and a half ago. The sun rarely shone through the thick canopy overhead. Many of the homes and shops were built into the trees, boulders, and ground. Hyle was something of a war hero here; the villagers nodded their heads in respect as he sauntered past them. There was a cheery atmosphere here; compared to other settlements, Jurler was relatively unaffected by the war raging around it. But still the people lived in fear of the alien creatures invading their homeland. The threat of attack was all too real.

Hyle’s own home at the center of the village was a burrow in a steep hillside, marked only by a mid-sized hole in the northern face of the soil. Hyle looked into the hole, his eyes cutting through the darkness with ease, though he could still not see to the end- as a defensive measure he made the burrow as deep into the earth as practically possible. Inside, past the darkness and dirt, in the more hospitable center of the hill where the true home was, awaited Trullri, his mate, and Ophryl and Grenil, his daughters. How Hyle had waited to see them again. How joyous he was that he would finally be reunited with his family after nearly seven weeks in a moss-covered hell.

The horn of the Metagross blared in the distance; the small and weak, yet brilliantly intelligent and endlessly clever alchemists known as Abra had created hordes of small, metallic organisms called Beldum that could join together to form new creatures. The Abra exploited the Beldum until they eventually created the world’s first Metagross, a towering biomechanical engine of destruction nearly sixty feet tall that moved with alarming speed and silence on four clawed, crushing legs thicker than the oldest, strongest tree trunks. Its dark blue coloration helped the Metagross blend into the night, so that most enemies would not see it during a midnight raid until its all-consuming ray of devastating orange energy blasted them into nothingness, Every Pokemon settlement was protected by at least one Metagross; they seemed to be the only weapon that was truly effective against the enemy.

But the Metagross was of no concern to Hyle. He was home, and with the towering metal monster on guard Jurler needed little other defence; this little backwater village was of no concern to the enemy, and thus they had yet to attack it, even during this war’s four year span, and it was unlikely they would any time soon, no matter how long the war dragged on. Hyle started his descent down the burrow. It seemed to drag on for miles; Hyle sometimes wondered why he made it so long, although not as often as how often little Ophryl asked that same question.

Already the sweet sounds and aromas of home were in the air. Kyle contained his excitement as best he could; returning to his family from the war always made him quite emotional. One could not blame him, however. Most soldiers did not return to their families after their first foray into the hell that was this feud, let alone after their fourth. Hyle considered himself blessed by his deity Registeel to still be alive. He’d stared death right in its emotionless, inorganic eyes several times now, and had always escaped to stare into Trullri’s serene, pale green eyes.

The battlefield was chilling in its silence, the cold, rank smell of death filling the still air. Battered and broken bodies littered the plain, the grass stained many colours with the blood of the slain. But only the corpses of Pokemon could be seen; the other faction did not leave remains when they perished. It seemed as if these Pokemon had all killed each other. But the bullet casings, giant footprints, and green smoke rising from the battlefield suggested otherwise.

The earth shook. The birds feasting on the corpses flew squawking away. Over the horizon it came, one of the victors of this battle. Its size was overpowering; the very sight of it could drain away all hope or joy of those who beheld it. It seemed to be the very incarnation of death itself. A massive beast like the reanimated skeleton of a dinosaur of old; how it moved or stood up or how it was even alive was not decipherable. A web of veins stemmed from a still-beating heart suspended in its ribcage and from a pulsating stomach gurgling and writhing just above its pelvic bone. This was SkullGraymon; this was a Digimon; this was one of Hyle’s sworn enemies. SkullGraymon opened its fleshless jaws wide, and from the empty mouth and throat from which there should have come no noise came a long, deep, horrible roar loud enough to split eardrums and terrible enough to chill to the soul.

Their own world was overpopulated. The Digimon had nowhere else to go. They had tried to peacefully convince the Pokemon to allow some of their race to inhabit their world. But the Pokemon were quick to slaughter the hapless messengers the Digimon sent. SkullGraymon remembered this all too well; one of the messengers was a close friend. Thus, the war began. The Digimon sent troop after troop into the Pokemon world, crushing any and all resistance they met. If they could not coexist peacefully, than one race would perish in this clash, memories remaining of them.

SkullGraymon had no problem leaving both attacking or defending armies and helpless villages crushed and burned beneath his feet. All in the name of progress, he always told himself. Perhaps the Digimon would have allowed the Pokemon to refuse them if no lives were taken. But by killing the messengers, the Pokemon rulers had practically signed the death warrants of themselves and their people. Besides, blood was something SkullGraymon had never tasted until now; and now he tasted much of it, and he relished the taste greatly.

What was this? This sweet sound that the skeletal behemoth heard? A moan of a survivor? Not for long.

This was an idea I’d been toying with for a while. Then, one day the plot bunny came to me and demanded I write this, and thus, I did. If anyone would like to see this dark, violent perspective of the Pokemon/Digimon clash told from one or two other perspectives, PM me or suggest so in your review. Hope you enjoyed this, please tell me if you want more!