Cynthia let out a sigh as her number one fan stared up at her with wide, pleading eyes, more like a scolded Eevee than a kid asking for a favor.

  “No.” she said flatly, her immunity to that exact gaze way beyond what Oliver could produce.

  Oliver pouted, gaze dropping to the dirt.

  “Why not? You can handle it…” he mumbled.

  Beside her, Myst gave a noncommittal shrug.

  “Maybe,” he admitted, “but we’re not going to take the chance.” He paused, his usual casual tone sharpening just enough to show he was serious. “And honestly, helping you catch a Pokémon right now would send the wrong message about what pulling a stunt like that gets you.”

  Oliver flinched and shrank a little at Myst’s words. “But—but…”

  Gracie, not Grace, grabbed his arm before he could dig himself any deeper.

  “I told you this was a bad idea, Oliver. Please. Don’t.” she said, voice catching just enough to make it clear she was close to crying again.

  Oliver glanced at her, then at Myst, then back to Gracie. His expression twisted from hopeful to downright gloomy. He dropped his gaze again, muttering a reluctant, “Fine.”

  Cynthia shook her head and turned to Myst. “You ready then?”

  He started to nod, his hand drifting toward Navi’s Poké Ball at his side, then hesitated.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  Myst didn’t answer right away. His gaze had shifted toward the tunnel wall, where the Pokémon that had chased Oliver lay slumped. Without a word, he stepped over and crouched down beside it, eyes narrowing as he examined it more closely.

  “You know, how did it even end up here?” he asked slowly. “It’s not native to Sinnoh, right?”

  Cynthia followed, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look. The Pokémon was bipedal, striped brown and black, with a broad snout and a large, round pink belly. A thick black band ran across its eyes, and along that stripe, thin white scars cut down at angles, just enough to make it look, at first glance, like it had more than one pair of eyes staring back. It was familiar, vaguely, but not familiar enough. The name sat just out of reach, like a memory half-remembered.

  … Which, frankly, meant Myst was probably right. She’d memorized the entire Sinnoh Pokédex by the time she was five, if it had been local, she’d have recognized it in an instant.

  “So?” she prompted, crouching beside him. She slid her hand gently over its scales, dry and smooth, better suited for sand than rough stone.

  “Krokorok,” Myst said at last. “Ground-Dark type. It’s from Unova, usually travels in small packs.”

  He paused again, frowning.

  “I’m guessing this is one of those Pokémon Byron mentioned, the ones that lived down there,” he added, stressing the two last words with pointed emphasis.

  Cynthia gave him a questioning look, but he only tilted his head subtly toward the three kids they’d rescued, who were doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop.

  Ah.

  She nodded slowly.

  “I mean… yeah. That would make sense. Otherwise, I’d say it was probably a Pokémon someone released.”

  Myst shot her a disbelieving look. “Someone from Unova, coming all the way out here, just to release a Krokorok into an abandoned mine?”

  Cynthia lifted her hands in mock surrender.

  “Hey, I didn’t say it was likely.”

  Myst exhaled, shaking his head. “Let’s just go with it being from down there…” He glanced deeper into the tunnels, then his voice dropped to barely a murmur. “I guess that means one of the biomes Byron talked about is a desert…” He shook his head, baffled. “A desert underground. How would that even work?”

  Cynthia let her eyes drift back over the Krokorok, then forced herself to look away, toward the children.

  They smiled at her nervously.

  “Myst,” she said firmly, snapping him out of it. He glanced towards her, and without needing any further prompting, understood what she meant.

  “Good point. First things first.”

  Myst unclipped Navi’s Poké Ball and, with a flick of his wrist, sent her out. The little Ralts appeared in a brief shimmer of light, horn glinting orange as she scanned the kids with a steady, serious expression.

  “Ralts?” she said, without even missing a beat.

  I thought there would be more?

  “They got separated,” Cynthia explained. “Byron and Johanna went after the rest.”

  Navi nodded firmly.

  “Ralts.” She said firmly.

  I am ready.

  Cynthia turned back to Myst. “Well, who’s going with her?”

  Myst blinked. “What do you mean, who? We’re all going, right?”

  Cynthia shook her head. “I don’t think we should. Like Byron said, teleportation isn’t dangerous, but if you don’t have enough power, you could leave someone behind. Not that I think it’d happen with only five people, but you’ve never tested it with that many before, have you?”

  Myst pursed his lips at that.

  “Well… no, not with this many, but I’m pretty confident,” he said, glancing toward Navi for backup.

  “Ralts!”

  I can do it!

  Navi puffed her cheeks at Cynthia’s doubt, glaring in her own tiny way. Cynthia almost laughed, but still forced herself to explain.

  “It’s not about whether you can,” she began gently, “it’s about minimizing risk. If Myst or I get left behind, that’s fine. But if we lose one of the kids? That’s not worth gambling on.”

  Myst opened his mouth, hesitated, then tilted his head.

  “I mean, I guess I can see that. But then shouldn’t we just send them up with Navi? Teleporting four people is something we actually have tested, and it’s not like we need to be there with them or anything. The entrance has to be crawling with people by now.”

  Cynthia considered that.

  It was a good point.

  If Navi somehow accidently left behind Gracie or Camron, that would be bad, but it wasn’t exactly a crisis.

  But Oliver?

  Cynthia let her eyes glance toward him.

  Oliver stood shivering slightly in a torn T-shirt, covered in scrapes and bruises, cradling his arm in a way that suggested it wasn’t broken, but badly hurt. He let out a grimace, face slowly turning pale as the adrenaline that had kept him going faded from his system. A moment ago, Gracie had leaned on him for support, but now he was gripping her hand like a lifeline.

  She almost wanted to send him up alone.

  She took a deep breath, shaking that thought away. That would waste Navi’s energy. Just because she wasn’t sure about five didn’t mean she doubted Navi could manage four. After all, Teleport was designed to get trainers out of caves, and Navi was hardly weak…

  In the end, Myst was right, priority was getting the kids out. Escorting one or two out by hand wouldn’t be impossible, but it was riskier. And while Myst and Navi seemed confident, Cynthia knew better than to treat long-range Teleport casually.

  Which, honestly, brought them back to just sending the kids and Navi up.

  She sighed.

  “Okay. Let’s do that. Navi takes the kids.”

  Myst turned to Navi at her words.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Navi didn’t hesitate. Before any of the kids could even protest, she walked over, grabbing Oliver and Camron’s hands. Then she paused, glanced back, and chirped,

  “Ralts ralts!”

  I’ll be back, don’t leave!

  Myst let out a fond smile at Navi’s actions, before glancing towards Krokorok one more time, and letting out a murmur just quiet enough that she could only half catch it.

  “…just glad—wasn’t—fucking Spiritomb.”

  …

  Cynthia let out a sigh as she stared at the ceiling, time dragging by at an agonizing pace. Honestly, after the first seven minutes, she was starting to worry that Navi might need a lot more time than she thought to gather enough strength to teleport down here again.

  She glanced at Myst, who had pulled out his notebook and a pen, scribbling something down.

  “…You want to capture it?” she asked.

  Myst paused his actions, then looked up, raising a single eyebrow.

  “Cynthia, it tried to eat a child.”

  She opened her mouth to argue that it was probably unlikely for a Pokémon to just straight-up eat a child, but Myst cut her off.

  “More than that, I’m not exactly a fan of knocking out a Pokémon and dragging it back to join my team. I want them to actually want to join, not feel like they’ve been kidnapped.” He paused, then gave her a questioning look. “Or… are you asking because you want it?”

  Queenie stirred slightly in her lap, but before she could offer a protest, Cynthia rolled her eyes. “I was only asking because I’m not going to capture it. It’d just be nice if we didn’t have to keep staring at it.”

  …

  The conversation died after that. For the first minute, the only movement came from Myst shifting to lean against the wall instead of finding a place to sit.

  That changed when he slid his notebook back into his backpack. Halfway through the motion, he froze, just for a second, before forcing himself to keep going, settling back against the wall like he hadn’t just tensed up.

  It didn’t work.

  Over the next few minutes, his behavior shifted again. His eyes started to move, flicking toward the fainted Krokorok, like he was checking to make sure it stayed down, then darting back to her. He would glance for a second, then quickly look away. Every time, it seemed like he was turning something over in his head, teetering on the edge of saying something, only to swallow it down instead.

  She broke the silence first. “You’re thinking about something,” she said, aiming for casual.

  From the way Myst snapped his head up, she hadn’t pulled it off. He stared at her for a moment, then sighed, mumbling something too soft to catch.

  She frowned, about to press, but he spoke first.

  “Just…” he hesitated.

  “Just what?”

  He glanced away, then back at her.

  “What?” she repeated.

  He tilted his head. “Are you the type to get hangry?”

  For a second Cynthia just stared at him.

  Then she glared.

  “What kind of question is that? Myst, you’ve been glancing at me for five minutes, looking like you were about to say something, of course I’m going to be curious!”

  He cracked a small grin, and her irritation faltered.

  She sighed, resisting the urge to facepalm. “Seriously. What is it?”

  Myst smiled for a few more seconds, before it slowly dropped, and he let out a sigh. “This… doesn’t it remind you of something?”

  Cynthia took a second to follow his train of thought, but before she could figure out what he meant he gestured toward the Krokorok.

  “Dark-type Pokémon from Unova,” he said, then gestured toward the tunnel they had come from, “an egg and a parent who…”

  Oh.

  She cut him off. “I get it.”

  Myst shrugged slightly. “I mean, we haven’t really talked much about it. Not about Zoroark, or… you know.”

  Cynthia ran a hand over Queenie’s scales, feeling the comforting weight of her partner’s head resting across her lap.

  Yeah, he was right in that. They hadn’t really talked… Not about the important parts, anyway. Sure, they’d gone over tactics, what went wrong, what they’d do next time. But about Zoroark? About the egg?

  Her eyes drifted to Myst’s backpack, propped against the tunnel wall.

  “Then, have you thought about it?” she asked quietly. “What to do?”

  Myst shook his head. “Not really. Honestly, it doesn’t feel like it should be my choice, you know?”

  She didn’t move her gaze. “What, you think I’d have a better idea?”

  He looked surprised. “I figured you’d be the one to take it.”

  Cynthia felt her shoulders stiffen, shooting him a wary look. “Why would you think that?”

  “I mean… I don’t exactly know how to take care of an egg,” Myst admitted, letting out a small, bitter laugh. “My brain just says you hatch one by… walking around with it.”

  Cynthia folded her arms. “Well, you think I know what to do?” she shot back.

  Myst raised a single eyebrow.

  She flushed, looking away. Okay, fine, she did know, at least, apparently, more than him. But that didn’t mean she should be the one to take care of it. Taking care of an egg, wasn’t exactly rocket science. He could easily learn.

  Myst sighed. “If neither of us wants to, shouldn’t we just… give it up for adoption? Benkara mentioned that, right?”

  Cynthia dug her fingers into Queenie’s scales, drawing a low, comforting rumble from her partner.

  “Adoption sucks,” she said, her voice tight. “Especially for rare Pokémon. It always turns into a mess, with too many people fighting over it…” She trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek.

  On some level, she honestly wanted to shove the responsibility onto Myst. After all, he’d been the one carrying it around since day one, while she’d barely even wanted to look at it. But that was just her selfishness talking. In the end, if he didn’t want to take it, forcing him to would just be stupid.

  So she would take it.

  But she really didn’t want to.

  Myst gave her a small, bitter smile, catching her hesitation. “I get that it sucks, but we can’t just dismiss it if neither of u—”

  Before he could finish, Navi materialized in front of them, stumbling forward and collapsing to her knees. Myst’s mouth snapped shut, and he lunged toward her, but Navi pushed herself shakily upright before he could catch her. Her eyes darted wildly, colours spiralling as they seemed to mix between grey and blue, like a storm happening behind her blue helmet.

  “So many people.”

  Myst froze mid step, “What?”

  Navi’s horn gave a sharp flash. “Too many questions. Too much emotion.”

  She paused, shivering as if something cold had passed straight through her. “Too much.”

  Cynthia forced herself to shove the talk with Myst into a corner of her mind labeled later and focused on Navi’s words instead. A helpless smile tugged at her lips as the meaning clicked.

  “I’m guessing you got held up because everyone wanted to know where the other kids were?”

  Navi tilted her head back, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I told. They kept asking... I left.”

  She paused, before her entire demeanour changed. Her head snapped towards Myst, and a wide smile grew over her face. “Mindtalk. I can do!”

  Myst grinned slightly. “Apparently, you have been able to do it for a while. We just never really noticed.”

  Navi nodded seriously. “Feels natural. We tried force.”

  Myst nodded, dragging two fingers over his chin. “I guess, that makes sense. We spent a lot of time on it, and I probably built it up to be this task, when it was really something that you just needed to do.”

  Navi mirrored his nod. “Right!”

  Myst expressions grew slightly complicated at her reply.

  “Well, the training probably still helped.” Cynthia cut in.

  He paused slightly.

  “What do you mean?”

  For a second, she just took in his expression, then she sighed.

  “Just because an Ability is natural doesn’t mean it starts at peak potential,” Cynthia started. “There’s always more room to grow. If I had to bet, all that training you did with Navi, the multitasking, the practice connecting to your mind, that’s why she can broadcast her thoughts to both of us instead of just you. Honestly, it probably helped in other ways too. Like boosting her range, or making it easier for her to shape words we can actually understand. Most Pokémon, when they first start with Telepathy, their words come out garbled”

  Myst blinked slightly and looked towards Navi.

  The little psychic type nodded. “Regulating natural. Range not. Many speak not…” her eyes lit up, “Also! If focus, can sense much larger area. Like this.”

  Navi closed her eyes, and her horn, which had been glowing subtly since she started talking, lit up a bright orange. For a couple of seconds Myst just stared at the sight. Then, seeing Navi was still concentrating, he shrugged.

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Of course, it makes sense. But, honestly, let’s talk about this later. Like, at a time when we aren’t standing next to a fainted Krokorok, in the middle of tunnels that can collapse and crush us into pancakes any moment.”

  Myst grinned slightly at her words.

  “Good point. Navi, could you tele—”

  Navi eyes snapped open.

  “Child in danger. Child scared!” she screamed.

  Cynthia winced, and staggered on the spot, feeling Navi’s so far carefully controlled voice spike. Still, compared to Myst, she got off lightly.

  He instantly fell to his knees. His trust and bond with Navi, leading him to have an easier time accepting her psychic influence, and by proxy causing her words to become even louder.

  The feeling of Navi’s mind touching hers ripped away in an instant as the little Psychic-type sensed her own mistake. She rushed over towards Myst, but before she could get close enough to try and helped, he dragged himself off the ground, one hand resting on his head.

  “Maybe try for a little bit less loudness next time?” he said.

  Navi stopped dead in her tracks, looking like she was torn between trying to help him out, and wanting to burst out crying.

  Myst waved away her unsaid concern. “Honestly, it’s fine. You said something about a child in danger right?”

  Cynthia watched Navi took a deep breath, then steeled herself, glancing down the tunnel leading deeper. Raising a single hand, she forcefully pointed at it, and slightly down.

  “Ralts. Ralts, ralts.”

  I sensed a child. That way, it was scared.

  Cynthia took a step forward. “A human one?”

  Navi nodded firmly.

  “Ralts ralts ral.”

  Like the ones we found.

  Myst lightly slapped himself, then followed Navi’s eyes. “Can you show us the way?”

  Navi didn’t even speak, just started walking.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  …

  Any other time, any other day, Cynthia would have been completely amazed. Honestly, even right now, her fingers trembled slightly at the sight in front of her.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Myst breathed beside her.

  A desert.

  A desert under the mountain.

  Even after Byron had mentioned the hidden biomes, some part of her had expected them to be small, little wonders of nature, scattered hotspots of concentrated type energy formed by accident. That would have made sense, at least. Some places could turn out like that, either because a powerful Pokémon had died there, or because of a quirk in how the world’s natural type energy moved.

  But this?

  If a single Pokémon had made this place, then it would have to be a god.

  Because this wasn’t a hotspot — it was a world.

  Even squinting, even standing nearly ten meters above the heat-baked sand, she couldn’t see where it ended. The horizon shimmered and blurred with heat ripples, impossibly vast, swallowing any sense of scale.

  Some part of her really wanted to stand there forever, marvelling. Wanted to spend hours trading theories with Myst, gushing about how beautifully strange the world could be. Wanted to walk into the desert, study the Pokémon that could be found here.

  “Cynthia. Any ideas?” Myst asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

  She forced herself to lower her gaze, focusing on the reason she couldn’t afford to just stand and wonder. From their outpost above, the people and Pokémon below looked small, but the tension was unmistakable, clinging to the air like a living thing.

  On one side stood Byron, Johanna and two of the missing kids, though they stood slightly further down from the top of the sand dune.

  But on the other?

  Well over twenty Krokorok, clustered tight against the rock wall they were currently inside. Their scales caught the harsh light, claws digging furrows in the hot sand. All of them seemed to orbit the true problem: a single Krookodile.

  No, that wasn’t quite right.

  It wasn’t just a Krookodile.

  It was a single, absolutely massive, Krookodile.

  Compared to its kin, it towered like a living fortress, its thick hide cracked and scarred from battles long past. Each breath seemed to rumble through the ground itself, a deep, shuddering exhale that made Cynthia’s chest tighten. Even from a bad angle, she’d estimate it stood at least four meters tall, and its massive tail twitched slowly, as it grinned with wild abandoned.

  Seemingly delighting in the current situation.

  “Not any good ones,” she admitted in a low voice, mind racing.

  Even at this distance, the suffocating pressure rolling off the leader made her skin crawl. If it had just been her and Myst down there, there’d be nothing they could do. Absolutely nothing. A Pokémon that strong, with that kind of mass? Even if Queenie landed a perfect shot, Cynthia had a horrible feeling her partner would tire out long before the Krookodile even staggered.

  Still, they weren’t alone.

  She glanced back towards the other side again.

  Even though the Krookodile looked powerful, she had absolute confidence Byron could handle it. Flanked by his Aggron and Lucario, both powerful enough to probably battle it on their own, she’d bet on him winning at least ninety nine percent of the time. And that was without even factoring in the rest of Byron’s or Johanna’s teams.

  So, in theory, it shouldn’t be a problem.

  In theory.

  “How likely is it that Roselia could keep that Krookodile from closing its hand with Grass Knot?” Myst asked, eyes squinting as he stared down.

  Cynthia smiled bitterly. “Zero. Honestly, it wouldn’t even need to resist. Just shifting its grip would break the hold.”

  “Well, that kind of sucks, doesn’t it,” Myst muttered.

  His eyes continued to linger on the Krookodile’s massive right hand, and by proxy on—

  The boy trapped inside it.

  Cynthia grimaced at the sight.

  His limbs hung out, unmoving, and the only reason she was even certain he was alive was how steady Navi looked. If the emotions she had felt from the boy had been snuffed out, Cynthia was certain she would react quite dramatically.

  Even so, him not moving wasn’t exactly a great sign.

  “Navi, can you connect us to Byron? Make it possible for him to hear us?” Myst asked.

  Cynthia snapped towards him, eyes widening.

  That was a great id—

  “Ralts.” She said, shaking her head.

  No.

  Then she hesitated, glancing down toward Byron and Johanna.

  “Ralts, Ralts.”

  I could talk to him, if he lets me.

  Myst looked at Cynthia, who was already nodding.

  “Perfect. Try it.”

  Under Navi’s blue helmet, her eyes began to glow subtly. Then, after a moment, they shifted into a pale grey. Cynthia turned back just in time to catch Byron looking up, meeting their gaze with the faintest flicker of recognition.

  “Ralts ral,” Navi called softly from behind.

  He can hear me.

  “Can you ask if he has a plan?” Myst pressed.

  Navi nodded, focusing again. And, for a moment, they both waited silently while Navi stared into space. Then, without warning, she slumped a little.

  “Ralts.” She said.

  He hoped you would have one.

  Cynthia grimaced at that, and beside her, Myst did the same. They both turned at the same moment, eyes fixed once more on the massive Ground-Dark type.

  “How about we let Byron start a fight—” Myst started.

  Cynthia cut him off. “And what if the Krookodile closes its hand the second it sees a move?”

  “Right.”

  They fell silent, the seconds stretching uncomfortably, until Cynthia felt her eyes light up.

  “What if Navi teleports right into its ha—”

  Myst shut it down as quickly as she’d shut him down. “Impossible. Krookodile is a Dark type. Just the presence of a move would throw off her focus, never mind if it actually hit her. Way too dangerous. Unless we can be absolutely sure that we can stop it from closing its hand, we can’t risk it.”

  Cynthia gritted her teeth, feeling her hand drop to Queenie’s Poké Ball as she furiously tried to think.

  In the end, while they had the element of surprise, they lacked the absolute power they would need to rescue the boy. Byron and Johanna had the power, but any move they made would be predictable.

  What did that even leave?

  Not enough power on one side.

  Too predictable on the other.

  They needed some way to—

  Oh.

  She snapped towards Navi.

  “Navi, can you connect to Johanna? And tell Byron to recall one of the Pokémon, playing it off as him wanting to negotiate.”

  Navi nodded, eyes flashing into a colour that seemed to be a mix of blue and grey.

  Cynthia turned but almost jumped in place as Byron wasted no time.

  “OKAY, YOU BEAUTIFUL BEAST, I AM READY TO BARGAIN!” he roared.

  The Krookodile let out a harsh screech that almost sounded like a laugh, and let its grin widened, eyes gleaming with interest.

  “Krokodille!”

  “FIRST I WILL RETURN LUCARIO, TO SHOW I AM SERIOUS!” Byron continued, dramatically raising a hand and recalling Lucario to its Poké Ball.

  “Tell Johanna to take the Poké Ball,” Cynthia said hurriedly, not expecting Byron to move so quickly.

  Byron went on, “I AM READY TO GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT, KROOKODILE, BUT WE NEED THE BOY RETURNED UNHARMED!”

  Below, the ground rumbled as the Krookodile took a deliberate step forward.

  “Krookodile,” it growled.

  Without a Pokémon to translate, Cynthia couldn’t tell what it meant, but it didn’t really matter.

  “Tell Johanna to get away, make enough distance that she can’t be seen, then teleport her up here,” Cynthia added quickly.

  Myst shot her an impressed look, and she allowed herself a tiny grin.

  “Still,” he added, “how is Johanna supposed to move? If she could, don’t you think she’d have tried to get reinforcements by now?”

  Cynthia paused, eyes flicking between Byron, who nodded along as Aggron spoke to him, and Johanna.

  She hadn’t moved a muscle.

  Flanked by her Umbreon, Midna, and her Glameow, she looked up at them, then glanced back down at the ground.

  “Fuck,” Cynthia muttered.

  Myst winced. “Yeah, we need to—”

  A voice interrupted them.

  “Great idea, but I hope that’s not the end of your plan.”

  They both spun around, just in time to see Navi lifting her hands off Johanna and Midna.

  “What,” they managed in perfect sync.

  Then they turned to look back down at the desert floor, and watched Johanna… or rather, not Johanna, step closer to Byron.

  Cynthia stared, then flicked her gaze to the Glameow.

  Double Team.

  It had to be… though, if it was, it was by far the most advanced application of one she had ever seen. Most people relied on a swarm of clones to hide imperfections, but this?

  She couldn’t tell it was a clone at all.

  Usually, if you stared at a Double Team copy long enough, something would give it away, a lack of subtle movement, something not shifting right, a million small details that made a person alive.

  But this one moved naturally.

  Even when staring at it, trying to find a flaw, she couldn’t.

  “Sassy’s playing me right now,” Johanna’s said, walking up and glancing down, “but while she can hold Double Team forever, Byron isn’t exactly a master negotiator. If this goes south, it will go south fast.”

  Cynthia snapped her eyes away from the truly masterful display and focused back on Johanna.

  “Right. Well, I figured the problem is that anything we do with our Pokémon is just too weak. But if we have one of Byron’s, plus the element of surprise…”

  Johanna nodded.

  “Solid logic, but what’s the rest? Surprise is good, but we need a watertight plan, there’s a kid’s life on the line.”

  Cynthia paused, then gave a sheepish grin.

  “Well, I sort of didn’t get that far yet.”

  Johanna stared at her for a few seconds, then let out a sigh.

  “Okay. Let’s put our heads together, then—”

  “Midna knows Protect, right? She can expand it?” Myst cut in suddenly.

  Johanna paused mid-sentence. “Well, obviously. Protect’s practically mandatory when you get a little bit higher level, and extending it is the most important variation, since it lets your Pokémon shield you too.”

  “And it can take a hit from that Krookodile?” he continued.

  Johanna stared at him, “Of course.”

  Myst grinned.

  “Then how about we—”

  …

  Byron wasn’t going to lie, today had been one shitty event after another.

  Roark keeping him up half the night, then rolling straight into a morning meeting with that stuck-up mayor? Bad enough. Having to cancel the one enjoyable Gym battle he’d had scheduled all week because of a bunch of idiotic brats? Worse. But standing here, staring down some overgrown lizard from the very place he’d just been arguing about with the mayor?

  If it weren’t for how raw his throat felt from shouting, he might have started laughing. If he couldn’t get the mayor sacked before, well this sure helped didn’t it?

  What a shitshow.

  “You want me to fight the leader of the grassland territory?” he shouted back at the monster.

  The Krookodile chittered in reply, then nodded its head.

  Byron pursed his lips at that.

  Obviously, he couldn’t just run off to fight some Pokémon comparable to this Krookodile while leaving a kid dangling in its claws. That was flat-out impossible. Partly because there was no telling if this Pokémon would keep its word, and partly because if he did and word got out, he’d be sacked from his Gym position before he could sack the mayor from his.

  Though, not that the Krookodile needed to know that.

  “I can do that,” he called back, “but you need to tell me where to find it!”

  The Krookodile paused at his agreement and Byron grinned wide, baring his teeth like a Sharpedo.

  Yeah, didn’t expect that one, did you?

  “We start.”

  The voice echoed through Byron’s head again, and he forced himself to stay still, even though every instinct screamed to push it out. He’d nearly made that mistake once already, and he wasn’t about to do it again now that he knew better.

  Even so, just feeling that Ralts brushing against his mind pulled a sliver of focus away from the fight. Myst’s Buneary had already been a monster, far too strong for a third-badge challenger, but his Ralts?

  “Distraction,” the voice in his head insisted, sounding as clear as the ones Elite Four level Telepaths had. “Please.”

  Byron shook his head in awe.

  He’d seen plenty of talented trainers over the years, each skilled in their own ways. Cynthia, for instance, she was easily the most complete trainer he’d ever seen at such an early stage, no question.

  But Myst?

  Myst took the cake when it came to type energy. His Buneary’s flawless, precise moves, the incredible finesse Navi showed here, pulling off this level of coordinated Telepathy under pressure…

  If Byron had been on the fence about awarding Myst the second badge before, he sure as hell wasn’t anymore. And that wasn’t even factoring in the kid’s courage, jumping in without hesitation to help in a life-threatening situation. Honestly, if anybody wanted to argue, they could take it up with the League themselves as far as he was concerned.

  He took a deep breath, then dramatically ripped off his helmet and hurled it into the sand at Krookodile’s feet.

  “YOU SEE THIS HELMET?” he roared, pointing theatrically to where it landed in the sand.

  Krookodile followed the gesture, its eyes narrowing. Byron opened his mouth—

  Start it now, he thought sharply.

  He didn’t even see the blur.

  BOOM!

  Lucario moved faster than a bullet, slamming into Krookodile’s wrist with enough force to blow away every single Krokorok surrounding it and forcing its claw back—

  But not forcing it open.

  The Krookodile howled, a furious bellow that rattled the earth, muscles bunching as it tried to crush the boy in its grip for Lucario’s transgression of harming it.

  CRACK!

  It didn’t work.

  A crystalline note rang out as a Protect shield snapped into place, freezing Krookodile’s claw half-closed, arcs of sputtering energy locking it open. For a fraction of a heartbeat, shock crossed the crocodile’s monstrous face.

  Then black, roiling energy surged across both its arms, claws trembling with murderous power as it tried again.

  Lucario didn’t give it the chance.

  His entire frame flashed white, Quick Attack exploding through his muscles as he blurred forward so fast Byron could only track the trail he left in the sand. Lucario slipped under the shifting shadow of Krookodile’s claw, his fist blazing with molten orange light—

  Close Combat.

  A dozen impacts slammed into Krookodile in the span of a single breath, each one a seismic shockwave that rattled stones from the ceiling and made Byron’s teeth buzz. The desert itself seemed to ripple as Lucario’s blows hammered again and again into Krookodile’s armored hide.

  Krookodile roared in pain, staggered back a step, and snapped its jaws down, trying to catch the much smaller Fighting-type in its bite.

  Lucario didn’t let himself get hit.

  In a blink, he broke off Close Combat and formed a Bone Rush staff, using its length to pivot beneath the descending maw in a blur of motion.

  Byron smiled at the sight.

  Not because Lucario had dodged, that wasn’t even a question, but instead because—

  “KROOKODILE!”!

  The Dark-type let out a roar of raw fury as the blue jackal’s attack shattered the dark energy covering its claws.

  Bryon moved his eyes to the Krookodile’s left claw.

  Empty.

  He let his smile grow to a grin.

  Krookodile didn’t seem to find it funny.

  As Lucario nimbly leapt past a sweeping tail strike, Krookodile’s right arm erupted with pulsing darkness. Before Lucario could even land, the desert beast had already drawn back its fist with terrifying, bone-shearing precision.

  Then it struck—

  A punch so fast the air detonated.

  BOOM!

  A sonic boom split the cavern as the monster’s fist came crashing down.

  Any Pokémon in mid-air, just a fraction of a second from impact with a fist the size of a small car, would’ve been hit.

  Dodging should have been impossible.

  Lucario dodged anyway.

  His eyes flashed blue, Aura blazing, and space itself bent. Somehow, impossibly, he landed a single paw on the incoming fist. His whole body glowed as, in that frozen instant, all the crushing momentum simply vanished.

  He flowed around the blow, sliding along the arm like it was an extension of himself, not something separate. Not something to be overcome.

  And before time could catch up, Lucario had already touched down.

  He hit the sand and slid, a spray of grit trailing behind him.

  BOOM!

  Krookodile’s fist slammed down behind him, burying nearly to the wrist and blasting a geyser of sand into the air.

  Lucario skidded to a stop and turned.

  Seeing the giant’s fist stuck in the ground, Byron could swear the jackal grinned.

  He barked a laugh. “Well, it looks like the turn tables have—” He paused, frowning. “I mean it looks like the ta—”

  Krookodile’s entire body snapped forward.

  The buried fist had been a ruse, its other fist exploded forward, just as fast as the first.

  Aggron was already there.

  During the initial clash, the massive Steel-type had crossed the sands and now stood directly in front of Lucario. He raised both arms and intercepted the follow-up blow, one that would’ve launched Lucario clear across the cavern.

  CLANG!

  The impact rang out like an iron bell, the stone behind Krookodile spiderwebbing from the force as the two titans collided in a burst of dust and sparks. The ground shook. Even the Krookorok who had just begun to recover staggered in place.

  Still, for a moment, they looked evenly matched.

  Despite Krookodile towering nearly three times Aggron’s height, they pushed against each other, one arm against two, Dark-type energy against raw Steel, locked in place.

  But sheer mass was its own kind of power.

  Slowly, like a sandstorm made flesh, Krookodile began to grind Aggron backward. Dark energy flared, tearing trenches through the sand as the force of its attack wore down the Steel-type’s guard.

  Then, with a vicious snarl—

  It pushed.

  Aggron’s arms gave way.

  The blow crashed into his face—

  —and did nothing.

  Aggron staggered, but the attack more or less bounced off. Then, glaring, the Steel-type’s helmet began to glow, light gleaming across its surface as he readied an Iron Head at the overextended Krookodile.

  Krookodile twisted, fangs glowing with dark energy as it prepared to counter with a devastating Crunch.

  Unfortunately, in its haste it had forgotten—

  It was a two on one.

  Lucario’s fist smashed into its jaw in a flash of burning orange, cutting the Crunch short before it could even finish forming. Krookodile staggered, eyes going wide, shock flickering through them for just a heartbeat.

  Then, before it could recognize what it was feeling, rage returned.

  “Krookodile!” it roared, voice echoing off the cavern walls.

  At that moment, the Krokorok finally reacted, like a school of sharks scenting blood, surging forward, their beady eyes locked on what they saw as easy prey.

  Him.

  Byron’s hand shot toward another Poké Ball, but before he could choose which he wanted a burst of psychic energy rang out, and a blur flashed across the sand, intercepting the oncoming wave.

  Cynthia’s Gabite, the one she’d used against Benkara, seemed to materialize in front of a Krokorok, its claws flashing white as it slashed a scythe-shaped blow straight into its jaw.

  Slash.

  Then, a second later, an all-too-familiar Buneary leapt into the fray, it’s face beaming with absolute delight. It smashed feet-first into another Krokorok, her foot glowing orange before she spun and landed a powerful axe kick into a second one’s skull.

  Double Kick.

  Byron couldn’t help but grin.

  “I guess that worked, huh.” Myst’s voice called out behind him.

  Byron turned, spotting Cynthia, Johanna, and the boy they’d rescued standing just down the slope. The kid was already wrapped in a bone-crushing hug from his two friends, who’d been hiding moments earlier.

  Byron let his gaze sweep over the boy, noting how tightly he clung back, probably fine, then, before shifting his focus to the Pokémon who’d made the entire operation possible.

  Myst’s shiny Ralts, with its teal coloured cap and orange horn, was leaning heavily against Johanna’s Umbreon, panting hard but still on her feet.

  He shot the little psychic a thumbs-up.

  “Good job, kid—you probably saved my gym!” he laughed, then turned back toward the fight that still mattered.

  Or, well, the one that still looked fun.

  Now that the hostage was safe, he could finally go all-out. Show off a little. No way was he about to let a boy and his Ralts completely steal the spotlight.

  “Lucario! Leave this to Aggron and help the others!” he barked.

  Lucario instantly broke away from its hit-and-run rhythm, pivoting with perfect discipline.

  Krookodile didn’t hesitate, its massive fist ignited with swirling dark power as it lunged for Lucario’s exposed flank—

  “Aggron, Metal Brillance!”

  Aggron let out a delighted, ear-splitting roar, throwing itself between Lucario and the blow. Its plated head took the full force of the strike as its body flared with gleaming, steely light—

  Iron Defense wrapping around its body like a second skin.

  BOOM!

  The Dark-type attack hammered Aggron backward, wind whipping around the blast, the earth beneath their feet shuddering.

  But that?

  That was a huge mistake.

  As Krookodile stepped forward to press the advantage, Aggron’s body erupted with dark gray light. Energy whipped off the steel titan in molten, streaming arcs, a visible aura of raw, unstoppable, mirrored power.

  Krookodile froze. Instinct screamed danger.

  It tried to retreat—

  Aggron didn’t let it.

  With a war-horn bellow, the armored behemoth surged forward. Each step making its energy spiral further out of control, until Aggron became a living freight train of Steel-type power.

  Krookodile’s jaws ignited with black, hungry power as it lashed out desperately.

  It was absolutely useless.

  A blast of steel-type force, burning with mirrored brilliance, shattered through Krookodile’s Crunch like wet paper.

  Aggron’s charge slammed into its chest with cataclysmic power—

  A counterstrike so overwhelming, it looked like an entire wall of silver light.

  It was like a bomb going off.

  BOOM!

  The shockwave from Aggron’s Custom Move rippled outward, rattling stones loose from the cavern walls and sending a wave of pure Steel-type energy through the air.

  Byron staggered as sand whipped past his feet, but he didn’t look away, squinting through the sudden sandstorm.

  And he saw Krookodile fly.

  The impact had launched the monster clean off the ground, hurtling backward like a ragdoll before it crashed into the cavern wall with a thunderous CRACK, its tail buried in a pile of shattered rock.

  For a heartbeat, everything went still, and the Krokorok paused, panic rippling through them at the sight of their leader brought low.

  Then—

  With a low, guttural snarl, the giant crocodile began to move again. It dragged itself free, scales scorched, great cracks etched across its armored belly.

  It was tired, hurting.

  But the rage in its eyes hadn't dimmed.

  “Krookodile!” it bellowed, the cry echoing across the entire underground desert.

  Sand boiled beneath its claws as it lunged, black energy swirling around its jaws—

  Another Crunch, but bigger. Wilder. Nearly feral in its fury.

  Aggron braced—

  But the blow came from the side. A feint. The tail followed through, fast and brutal, slamming into Aggron’s flank with stunning force and knocking the steel titan off-balance.

  Byron turned towards the other fight.

  This one was over.

  Aggron took no more than a heartbeat to steady itself. Then it slammed its foot down with the weight of a mountain.

  The sand spiderwebbed from the impact, and a surge of Rock-type energy exploded outward. Behind Krookodile, the cavern wall seemed to come alive, rumbling like a beast, as massive slabs of stone broke free and lunged forward. Two enormous pillars closed in like crushing hands.

  Hurt and exhausted, Krookodile didn’t have time to react.

  The first slab smashed into its side, driving the air from its lungs.

  The second slammed into its chest with a thunderous crack, pinning it to the wall with unstoppable force.

  Stone ground together with a gut-deep roar as rocky fingers locked shut around Krookodile, trapping it in an unyielding prison.

  Dark-type energy sparked and writhed, but the damage had taken its toll. Within seconds, the energy sputtered out.

  Its eyes flickered, rage giving way to a dull, glassy exhaustion.

  Then, it was over.

  Krookodile’s head sagged at last, and it collapsed in defeat.

  Byron didn’t even glance back. His eyes were already on the other fight, the one wrapping up fast.

  The Krokorok, leaderless and panicked, tried to rally around each other, but it was far too late.

  On one side Gabite was a living cyclone of blue steel, its scythe-shaped claws tearing through their ranks with savage momentum. It didn’t bother with precision, it didn’t need to. Every Dragon Claw landed with crushing finality, sending Krokorok sprawling unconscious before they even hit the ground.

  On the other, Roselia moved like a shadow across the dunes, his ragged scarlet scarf trailing behind him. Thorny vines lashed out, snapping around Krokorok ankles and yanking them off-balance, tying them up like gift-wrapped packages—

  —perfect for Riolu to finish the job.

  The little jackal blurred in, fists already gleaming with Force Palm. Each strike detonated with a sharp, focused blast of type energy, dropping most Krokorok in a single blow.

  One Krokorok tried to flee toward the dunes—

  But Myst’s Buneary wasn’t the forgiving type.

  With a grin that was half challenge, half pure delight, she pounced forward, her ears blazing with cold, blue Ice-type energy.

  The terrified Krokorok raised its arms to shield its face, but the Buneary crashed right through its guard, stomping it flat, then hammering down a few more times for good measure. For a moment, she simply sat there on top of her fallen opponent, breathing hard, the blue glow of her ears sputtering and dying out.

  Lucario, who had opted not to join the clean-up, sighed quietly from Byron’s side as he watched her relentless enthusiasm.

  Byron, meanwhile, felt his mouth twitched up into a grin. He didn’t need to ask; Buneary had burned through every last drop of type energy.

  Tough little monster.

  The fight ended quickly after that. Even without Aggron or Lucario lifting a finger, the Krokorok barely resisted. Their morale had shattered the instant their leader fell.

  Byron turned, sliding down the dune toward the group of trainers who had fought beside him.

  “Good job,” he said with a broad grin, nodding to them all.

  Then his eyes shifted to the three kids standing nervously behind them. Clothes torn. Faces pale. But alive.

  His grin vanished, replaced by a flinty glare. “And as for you three…”

  …

  Cynthia sat down on a slab of stone, watching as even more cars arrived, disgorging even more reporters with cameras flashing.

  Tired.

  That was how she felt.

  The day had been too long. Meeting a fan, watching Myst battle, chasing after kids, finding them, talking to Myst about that damn egg, and then fighting a rampaging Krookodile?

  Too long.

  Too much.

  She sighed and ran a hand over Queenie’s scales, letting the familiar coolness of her oldest partner steady her.

  Eventually, Myst wandered over, looking about as bad as she felt, if not worse. Sometime during the initial improvised press conference, he’d gone from fully alert to looking like death warmed over—and she couldn’t blame him for it. Honestly, she’d felt the same. While Byron and Johanna had taken the lead with the reporters, they’d still needed to at least stand around.

  …Well, if nothing else, it was good press.

  For once.

  “You think I should start focusing on more basic training?” Myst asked out of nowhere, as he lowered himself onto the only other free rock.

  Cynthia shot him a glare.

  Myst laughed tiredly. “Sorry.”

  She sighed. “We can talk about it later.”

  Her eyes flicked toward Johanna, still surrounded by reporters, microphones in her face. Honestly, that was probably the best part of all this. While Cynthia and Myst would get some attention, she had a feeling the front pages would splash Johanna’s name the biggest, followed by Byron, with hers and Myst’s in fine print somewhere behind.

  Actually… would she mind not being the focus?

  After all, it was good press.

  For a second she considered if she might wake up tomorrow regretting avoiding the reporters…

  She shrugged inwardly.

  If she did, that was tomorrow Cynthia’s problem.

  “You really did good today.” Byron’s voice broke in, and Cynthia looked up to see the Gym Leader standing before them.

  Byron gave them both a crooked smile, then looked straight at Myst.

  “Especially your Ralts, Myst. She was a lifesaver. Without her Teleport and Telepathy, this could’ve gone way worse. You should be proud of how far you’ve brought her.”

  Myst leaned back on the rock, balancing on both hands, looking awkward. “Yeah, Navi was incredible. But don’t give me too much praise, I’m pretty sure most of her skill with Telepathy comes from her Ability.”

  Byron opened his mouth, then paused as he took in Myst’s expression.

  He furrowed his brow. “You know,” he began, “I met a trainer once from another region. Real laid-back guy, had this big ape-like Pokémon—Oranguru, I think he called it. We had a battle, and the whole time he didn’t give a single command. Just stood there, arms crossed, while I tried to figure out how the hell his Pokémon seemed to come up with complex strategies. Afterward, I asked him about it, of course, and do you know what he told me?”

  Myst tilted his head. “One of Oranguru’s Abilities is Telepathy?”

  Byron nodded. “Right. But here’s the thing, he explained the whole story, because he liked to brag. He told me most folks back home with Oranguru barely use Telepathy to its fullest. Because as an Ability, it only does one thing.”

  He paused dramatically, making sure Myst was listening.

  “It makes psychic communication easier to regulate. That’s it. Nothing more.”

  He pointed a finger straight at Myst.

  “Connecting to another mind, speaking to more than one person, maintaining a link over a distance? That’s all training. That takes skill with type energy, and you’ve clearly taught her control beyond what most people manage. Don’t undersell that. There’s more than one way to reach the pinnacle, and not everyone needs to focus on fundamentals like me or your girl,” he finished, jerking a thumb at Cynthia.

  Myst looked away, lips pursed. Even so, something about the way his face twisted…

  She didn’t know why, but she had the sudden sense that he was more frustrated with his own thoughts, than with his problems as a trainer.

  Byron let out a small sigh at his silence.

  “Well, think it over,” he said, then reached into his pocket and flicked something toward Myst.

  The small metal badge landed neatly in Myst’s lap.

  Myst blinked down at it, confusion flashing across his face. “Huh? What? We didn’t even finish our battle, though?”

  Byron shrugged. “You were fighting a level above what you should’ve. We get some leeway for handing out badges… And, if you ask me, what you pulled off today?” Byron grinned. “More than qualified for it anyway.”

  Then he jerked a thumb toward the ridge, where another wave of reporters was pouring out. “Anyway, I’d recommend clearing out before this place turns into a fortress. I’ll try to keep them off you for a bit, but I ain’t exactly the best with their type.”

  He turned to go, but Myst scrambled up after him.

  Cynthia watched in a daze as Myst reached him and then asked him something too quiet for her to catch. Byron looked back, raising a brow. Then, after a moment, he nodded, giving Myst a solid pat on the arm before walking off.

  Myst returned, and Cynthia raised an eyebrow, her voice edged with curiosity. “What did you ask him?”

  Myst shrugged. “For an extra match.”

  She blinked. “Why?” Her eyes narrowed, suspicion bubbling up. “Wait, you don’t think you have to beat him to deserve the badge, do you? Myst, if you—”

  He cut her off with a tired laugh. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to fight his Lairon, a simple one on one. I spent forever coming up with strategies for that kind of Steel-type, and I’d like to see if they’d work.”

  Cynthia stared for a long second, then sighed. “You know that’ll delay us by at least a day or two, right?”

  Myst gave her an apologetic smile. “Yeah, sorry. But, I figured we’d stay anyway. Johanna’s Contest is in two days, and… well, after everything, it’d feel kind of wrong not to watch.”

  Cynthia paused at that, but still nodded subtly, “Yeah, I guess you are right.”

  Myst glanced towards Johanna, and Cynthia followed his gaze, finding her still surrounded by a small crowd of reporters, positively glowing in the spotlight. Her smile softened. “You think she’d want to travel with us after?”

  Myst’s grin turned teasing. “Why do I get the feeling you just want her along for her cooking?”

  At that, Cynthia’s stomach let out a loud, ill-timed growl, and heat rushed to her cheeks.

  Myst tried, and failed, to hold in a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Cynthia buried her face in her hands. “Shut up.”