The day when Team Magma and Team Aqua's plans had come to fruition was nothing less than cataclysmic, Steven thought, nothing less than frenzied and drastic and sudden. Most importantly, however, it was also nothing less than he had expected, nothing less than he had been preparing for for months. Even when Brendan, wet behind the ears but ever promising as a trainer, had come to deliver the letter to Steven from Mr. Stone, the two had been plotting for the worst case scenario, wherein the Regis would be summoned and Steven would quite willingly give up his life. Artfully had the threat to Steven's mortality been kept from his father, of course, the knowledge of both his fate and his lies twining blackened vines of dread around the young man's heart... but Steven's entire life had been driven by a determination and sense of justice that simply could not be derailed. Not even by his love for his father. But then, maybe he was just a little bit selfish.

Even as the unsolved variables came into play amongst the fray, Steven had kept a level head, channeling the self-assured air that came upon him every time he entered a battle he knew he could win. He refused to be any less than his best in his last moments, and though he might not have achieved that, there was only so much one could to when meeting their end. He'd only wished that he could have shared his plans with Wallace some time before. The look in the other man's eyes as Steven fell had nearly broken the former Champion's heart, and it was a painful last regret to realized that he had never initiated with his best friend the things that they had been dancing around all their lives. It was a pity, really.

But then, inexplicably, Steven had come back, had been brought to life by the mysterious workings of Celebi, and he was left… as a hero. He was a trainer who had forsaken his title and given everything to play his hand in saving Hoenn, in saving the world, and that would have all been fine and dandy— in fact, Steven had contented himself with this, closing his eyes and taking calming breaths when the fear of death struck— but that was just it. Steven had achieved all he felt he was meant for, had been given a reward for his deeds that he had never in his wildest dreams might come his way, and that left him feeling empty, useless, static in a world where everyone else had still more to work toward in life. He had no idea what to do with himself. And so, to compensate, he simple did everything.

Once again, he traveled, setting out to Sinnoh and settling for a short while there to explore the caves. He threw his entire self into the search of precious stones, and he'd spend days upon weeks underground, foregoing his own health for the sake of feeling that he had, impossibly, accomplished something. When he grew tired of Sinnoh, he sold his old villa to a promising young trainer and returned home, maintaining even there minimal contact with the many that he had before held quite dear. In his heart, he was afraid, which was a thing he was desperately unable to admit, and in this fear he hid himself away from the world that terrified him with its ever-changing ways that he no longer felt a part of.

When his father, concerned, called him to Rustboro, he easily took up work for Devon Corp., throwing himself as bodily into this endeavor as he had the last. He would shut himself away in his office late into the night, often falling asleep at his desk only to be awakened by the busy shuffling of enthusiastic interns come the next morning. Everyone noted the restlessness in the man who had once sought to take the world by storm, but no one dare comment on it, lest they provoke the ire of someone who ran on too little sleep and too much caffeine. Mr. Stone would insinuate, occasionally, would demand that his son take a few days off in the middle of the week, but his fatherly efforts simply bounced off of Steven. The young Stone, for the first time in his life, refused to face the problem before him. Then again, never before had he been forced to face himself.