Chapter 112: The Power of Time

“Roar!” A voice that felt strangely familiar echoed behind him. Zhao Fang turned around and saw that the altar behind him had vanished, replaced by a Dialga standing silently, gazing at him.

At that moment, Zhao Fang’s breath caught for a brief second. This was Dialga—the legendary god of time. He had witnessed Dialga’s power before; in the memories of the Unknown Totem, he had seen how a Shaymin was utterly overwhelmed by Dialga. The ability to stop time was terrifying beyond measure.

Swallowing hard, Zhao Fang took a step back, curious about Dialga’s intentions.

“Roar!” Dialga bellowed again, but still made no move. This only deepened Zhao Fang’s confusion. What was Dialga trying to convey?

According to Zhao Fang’s understanding, this should be the moment for a battle with Dialga. Yet, Dialga showed no sign of striking. Was it waiting for something? He had previously suspected that Dialga might be a Pokémon conjured by the Unknown Totem, much like the Dialga constructed from that mysterious stone in the Unknown Totem’s memories.

But Zhao Fang was familiar with this altar; there was no Unknown Totem here. He had touched the walls earlier, and even his “golden finger” ability gave no hint of an Unknown Totem’s presence.

As he pondered this, Zhao Fang sensed something was off—he seemed to be growing taller.

Frowning, he looked down at his body. His shoes felt tight, as if they had shrunk.

“Gyarados! Use Water Pulse on Dialga!” Zhao Fang’s brow furrowed with a bad feeling. He couldn’t delay any longer.

Gyarados roared and unleashed a Water Pulse, charging at Dialga. Yet, the attack passed through Dialga as if it were an illusion, having no effect. The water column penetrated Dialga’s form, disappearing behind it.

“What does this mean?” Zhao Fang was puzzled. How could Water Pulse miss?

“Gyarados, use Iron Head!” Zhao Fang didn’t hesitate. If special attacks were ineffective, he’d try physical attacks.

Obediently, Gyarados charged again, its head gleaming with a metallic sheen. It struck, but again, Dialga was intangible, untouched by the blow.

Zhao Fang felt a headache coming on. Gyarados’s attacks, both physical and special, had failed. What was he supposed to do?

He looked up at Dialga, who remained calm and unmoving, seemingly unbothered by the attacks.

The discomfort in his feet intensified. Zhao Fang’s heart tightened—this confirmed a possibility: his body was rapidly growing.

No, more precisely, he was aging quickly. It was abnormal, but in light of Dialga’s presence—the god who controlled time—it suddenly made sense. Manipulating Zhao Fang’s growth would be effortless for such a deity.

“Do you want me to come closer?” Zhao Fang called out to Dialga. There was no response; Dialga simply watched quietly as the discomfort in Zhao Fang’s clothes worsened and his perspective grew higher.

Zhao Fang knew he couldn’t hesitate. If he remained indecisive, death here was inevitable.

With that thought, he took off his shoes and stepped forward barefoot. But as he approached, the strange sensations in his body grew stronger. He continued to grow until, after two steps, his vision finally stabilized.

“So that’s it...” Zhao Fang considered a possibility.

Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Dialga. As he ran, he felt his body surge with power, but as he neared, the strength waned. His vision blurred, movement slowed to a walk, and age spots and wrinkles appeared on his hands. In the span of running, he transformed from a youth into an old man.

His body weakened steadily, but Zhao Fang did not give up. He knew returning was futile; he would only continue to age. He had no way out.

“So tired...” His body grew feebler, eventually unable to stand upright, forcing him to bend over as he moved forward. Yet, he reached Dialga and stretched out his hand to touch it.

His hand passed through Dialga’s form, but in the next moment, he felt he had grasped something. Summoning his last strength, he pulled it free—a deep blue fragment.

Suddenly, strength flooded back. Dialga nodded at Zhao Fang and then vanished. Zhao Fang found himself restored from the frail elder back to his original self. Taking several deep breaths, he calmed his racing heart.

This was likely not Dialga’s true form. And the deep blue shard did not resemble any ordinary gem.

[Fragment from Dialga, containing the power of time.]

Zhao Fang’s pupils constricted. He had wondered why a Dialga was here and why a fragment was embedded within it. Now it was clear—this was a piece torn from Dialga itself. It was hard to imagine how this exalted god of time had been wounded, let alone had a fragment broken off and placed on the Gray Robe Man’s wall.

Looking around, Zhao Fang found himself back at the altar. He stood, put on his shoes, reassured the anxious Gyarados and Glaceon, and then brought the fragment to the altar’s base, placing it atop.

As the fragment neared, a deep blue light shimmered, stirring ripples across the radiant membrane. Then, the glowing veil faded, taking the fragment from Dialga’s form with it, only for a purple membrane to appear in its place.

Zhao Fang’s mouth twitched. He was certain this was connected to Palkia. Just thinking of the danger he had just faced made his stomach churn.

If dealing with Dialga alone was so troublesome, what would happen upon touching Palkia?

Below Palkia, was that the membrane of Giratina? And finally, who was it—Arceus?

What, then, was truly concealed within this secret chamber?