Oct 2, 2026 · 1 hr 15 min · 10 segments
Welcome to Apocalypse Johto: Rewritten by SABERinBLUE (currently known as Sam Gabriel) and read by the author! This story is loosely based on the unfinished Nuzlocke comic of the same name, which was…
So here's the thing, Shadow Ball sucks.
And at least when you're human, I guess, Watchling got hit with one, and it did fuck all, obviously.
Fortumbross got hit, and it just left a mark on his shoulder where fur don't grow no more.
Riptide got hit in the face, and it can't be no fun, but he evolved like ten minutes later, so it didn't matter, and it wasn't all that bad anyway.
I got hit and damn near died.
Damn near.
To call it an ectoplasmic burn is kind of a, what is it? A misnomer.
The, the nurses can't think of a better word for it.
The Shadow Ball hadn't burned anything away.
It just turned part of my body into a ghost.
Nurse Becky said non-corporeal.
It wasn't gone.
It was just taking a break from being entirely solid.
If not for that thick winter coat, along with the bandages Faulkner taped on in a hurry, I would've bled out.
I almost did.
The, like, freaky part is that it was temporary.
A couple hours.
If I had still been wearing clothes and bandages and shit when it wore off, when everything turned solid again, the fabric would have been trapped inside of my body, and then I would have died for sure.
Faulkner hadn't known that.
He ain't a nurse.
But he got me to Set You Scene just in time for them to get everything off me, sterilize everything, get it fucking back, give me the best chance they could.
There weren't enough hugs in the world for that kid, for my brother.
Even then, though, when the f- when the flesh came back, it came back wrong, different, changed.
I saw it every time I showered, a warped splatter of angry red midnight on my left side, starting halfway down my ribcage and ending halfway down my thigh.
It had gone like an inch and a half deep.
So here's the thing, Shadow Ball sucks.
And at least when you're human, I guess, Watchling got hit with one, and it did fuck all, obviously.
Fortumbross got hit, and it just left a mark on his shoulder where fur don't grow no more.
Riptide got hit in the face, and it can't be no fun, but he evolved like ten minutes later, so it didn't matter, and it wasn't all that bad anyway.
I got hit and damn near died.
Damn near.
To call it an ectoplasmic burn is kind of a, what is it? A misnomer.
The, the nurses can't think of a better word for it.
The Shadow Ball hadn't burned anything away.
It just turned part of my body into a ghost.
Nurse Becky said non-corporeal.
It wasn't gone.
It was just taking a break from being entirely solid.
If not for that thick winter coat, along with the bandages Faulkner taped on in a hurry, I would've bled out.
I almost did.
The, like, freaky part is that it was temporary.
A couple hours.
If I had still been wearing clothes and bandages and shit when it wore off, when everything turned solid again, the fabric would have been trapped inside of my body, and then I would have died for sure.
Faulkner hadn't known that.
He ain't a nurse.
But he got me to Set You Scene just in time for them to get everything off me, sterilize everything, get it fucking back, give me the best chance they could.
There weren't enough hugs in the world for that kid, for my brother.
Even then, though, when the f- when the flesh came back, it came back wrong, different, changed.
I saw it every time I showered, a warped splatter of angry red midnight on my left side, starting halfway down my ribcage and ending halfway down my thigh.
It had gone like an inch and a half deep.
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