Chapter 2: Preludes to a Path

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The brilliant light of midday sun bathes the landscape of trees in front of me, forming a path of amber above the green canopy.

Is this my road to the future?

Mid-stride, my legs freeze in awful trepidation.

What the hell? Move, dammit!

My vision blurs, the colorful orange mountains blur with the blue sky and cotton clouds. A late summer breeze blows through my hair. The dry mountain air, pines, flowers, the whole thing, it's all so natural. Wish I wasn't scared shitless of it.

This dread, it's internal. It's the one damn thing in this picturesque world I can't escape. Here I am, running from my problems again. Like goddamn clockwork. Only difference is this time I got lucky since Ette did her thing. That still doesn't make sense. Why would she help me escape? What's in it for her? And why do I care so much?

Concentrate! My cloudy vision sharpens when I raise my chin towards the wilderness. The indecisiveness dispels like morning fog on a windshield. I start to run.

Suddenly, there's a tightness in my chest. My parched throat gasps as I remember, "Shit, Ette's got my rock!"

Turning, there's the guard squeezing through the front door. The psychic nurse is nowhere to be seen, though she could easily be eclipsed by the sheer size of this fella.

"Damn, sumo woke up already?" I wheeze, wondering if somebody played one of those stupid, ear-grating flutes.

Thankfully he's slow. I steer myself through the courtyard, racing past the aghast faces of some of the healthier patients on a midday stroll. With only one working arm, my gait is tottering all the while.

Just then, beyond a manicured clearing, a flock of birds take wing from behind the brush. They fly close overhead, screeching loudly. The pounding sounds of the guard's heavy stride abruptly halts.

By making haste through the thicket, the guard is nowhere to be seen. However, dense branches tug at my robe, tearing it apart. At this rate, I'm gonna be ass-naked. There's a sound of a stream further through the woods. My determination is fading fast from stepping on too many sharp rocks with bare feet. The cast on my arm is killing me too.

After hauling my weary bones through the woods, a winding creek appears. My legs start to give way, but not before making it to the water.

For the first time in days I get a look at my reflection. The desperate man looking back at me blinks. To say I look like shit would be putting it too mildly. My hair's all unkempt, there's a prominent shadow from my facial hair, and my sunken eyes got these dark bags under them.

"Man—whadda fuckin' wreck," I groan.

The cool river water splashing on my face sure feels great though. I guide my hand down, tugging what's left of my tattered robe and sigh.

My stomach growls loudly. "Crud, didn't even think about food…" All that stress works up a huge appetite.

Scanning the river, there's the telltale sign of fishes. Their wakes are visible since the forest canopy is blocking the glare from the sun. However, it's not like I'm able to catch any. Nevertheless, the longer I look, the more my mouth salivates. Soon my lips are chapped.

Organizing a plan is my best bet to avoid getting caught or worse. Deep breaths. Okay. First, prioritize. Second, form a plan of action. Third, see it through.

My priorities are: food, clothes, and Ette. A vision of her wearing that arrogant smirk of hers shows up in my head. Wait…Ette? No. It isn't her I'm after, it's the damn stone she took. I splash my face with cold water to dispel the taunting mental image. The hell am I thinking? Snap outta it.

Okay, now that's taken care of, time to plan. Staying in the woods isn't going to work. If my memory's right, who knows if it is, there should be a town nearby. I think I passed through it before I took the mountain path. Still, after getting beat-up and sleeping for days, it's kind of fuzzy.

Following the river downstream, I spot an old stone bridge supporting a path. What a relief! Civilization!

My celebration is short-lived. From further along the road, there's the sound of leisurely moving hooves. I see the faint flames of a monster illuminate the ferns and trees. Ponyta. And the baritone tones of a man talking to someone.

Can't let them spot me.

My back leans close against the domed arch. Quietly I wait, like an ugly troll under the bridge.

Between the rhythmic clops, the older man speaks, his voice is thick and worn. "…Then you'll be old enough to take the town's challenge. With Pippa at your side, you're sure to reach the pinnacle of the mountain and make our whole family proud."

A young, androgynous voice answers him. "Nuh-uh, didn't you hear? There was a violent attack earlier this week. The path up the mountain's been closed."

My intrigue is piqued. Could they be talking about what happened to me?

"Really?" asks the old guy in a distressed tone. "How ominous. The sacred Path is guarded by the spirits of Rocaire."

"C'mon Grampa, you don't reeaaally believe those ghost stories they tell tourists visiting the region?" says the fledgling voice.

"Now, now," chides gramps, "our mountain's legend is one of the greatest treasures of Rocaire. The Path of the Ancients is not only Cortex's Trial, it's also the resting place of our Guardian sworn to protect us from harm."

"I'm not a kid anymore who believes in that stuff!" complains the youth. "Grr, I can't even take the Trial 'cos some idiot got hurt. Bet it was one of those trippers. It's their fault I can't take the Trial."

"Don't let the misfortunes of others bring your spirits down," answers the elder. "Be patient, and you'll see it one day too."

There's a pause, then the kid asks softly, "You ever seen the Path's Guardian, Grampa? Like, with your own eyes?"

"Oh, believe me, I've earned a glimpse," replies the senior. "The Great Guardians protect us all. Walking the Path provides an opportunity to one day meet such a blessing. But only those who complete Trials and grow strong alongside their partners in nature like the ancient walkers of the Path can work alongside the Great Guardians. One day, you and Pippa may too."

Suddenly there's a quarrelsome neighing from directly above. My breath freezes.

"Pippa—what's gotten into you?!" shouts the little voice at the braying mare. "Why's she acting like someone stole her oats, Grampa?"

"Whoa Nellie!" Grampa grumbles in a rough voice, "Something's got her spooked."

Yeah, probably me. There's labored tussling before the two of them get Pippa the Ponyta under control. However, she's still stomping her hooves directly above.

"Didja see something innawoods, Pippa?" The diminutive voice stammers, "L-Like a bear?"

"Easy, easy, girl—Hoo!—There, there, it's gon' be alright," insists the old-timer. "Here, now—"

There's the crisp snap of a carrot getting chomped, then Pippa's thrashing abates.

"Wow—Granpapa, that was amazing!"

"Monsters are more in tune with nature than us," explains the old guy. "Some reckon our senses ain't as good as theirs bec'ase we've forgotten our ancient roots in nature."

The kid coughs. "I think it's just 'cos she's got a better sniffer than you, pops!"

"Keeps prodding her hooves—she really don't like it here," concludes Grampa. "We oughta burn the breeze for Cortex."

"O-Okay—c'mon Pippa," squeaks the little voice. "I'm so sorry you're upset… I'll buy you lots of apples 'n treats in town. But you can't eat too many at once this time or you'll get the backdoor trots!"

The three of them continue over the bridge. Soon the only sound comes from the river.

"Phew…" I wipe the sweat from my brow. "Close. Too close."

After giving them a head-start, I follow their trail going into town. The chirping birds are my only company. As I walk, I keep thinking about the strange nurse from the clinic.

Eventually the familiar town greets me. It's not very large, I can see right where it starts and stops. There are dozens of open-air shops and saloons lining the main road. All the buildings have these wood façades, providing that characteristic western vibe of the frontier. Since the main street is full of activity, I veer around the shops and saloons, staying in the woods.

Around the second bar I pass, there's a large building with a newer design to it. It's not exactly what I'd call modern, but it stands out from the rest of the town. The large dome ceiling and outdoor training field tells me this is the place where trainers congregate. "Cortex Precept Center" it reads on an unilluminated sign.

There's a window slightly ajar near the back. After double checking to make sure no one is watching, I approach it. The window's a bit tough to pry open fully with only one arm, but I manage. Next, I roll myself in, being careful not to put pressure on my injury.

I find myself in a locker room. Perfect. Now to find some clothes and get out of this disgusting gown. Luckily, there's a clean set of clothes and boots my size in one of the closets. I dump the soiled hospital rags into the trash on my way to quickly wash in one of the shower stalls. Dry off, put on a cotton khaki shirt, trousers, throw on a coat, and feel ready to rock. On my way out I catch a glimpse of my cleaned-up self in the mirror. The tan linens, big brown belt, sturdy black boots, coupled with a chocolate leather jacket, together gives me that classic adventurer-decorum from a bygone era of explorers. It's a decent look for me.

Taking care of all that, I race toward the window.

"Howdy," says a guy's voice walking in from down the hall.

I freeze by the sill, then slowly turn around, expecting him to be whoever's on guard. Thankfully, he's got a cheery look on his face, with an open hand instead of a six shooter.

"Haven't met you," he says, "you must be that new guy from outta town."

I saunter toward him and shake his hand. He's younger than me, but not by a whole lot. A bit of a thin lad, he's wearing a casual outfit and a tan rancher hat. Of average-height with bronze skin, brown hair and green eyes.

"Alex," I say, crafting an easy alias. "Or Al, it's close enough."

"I'm Harrison. Been training for the Trial. Me and my posse are itchin' to walk the Path of the Ancients and take the trail up the mountain." He gestures to his belt holster holding three balls.

"Nice." I cough anxiously. This is a dangerous situation, he's a trainer and I'm defenseless.

"Heya, let's be pals," suggests Harrison. "Since the Path's closed, we can train our 'mons together. That way they'll be ready to kick ass on the mountain!"

"Sure," I say. My mind races for a rationale as to what I'm doing in a Precept Center without a single 'mon.

"So, didja challenge Cortex yet?" asks Harrison.

That confuses me. "Isn't Cortex the name of the town?"

Harrison bursts into a bighearted laugh. "Man, I can tell you're not from 'round here!"

I play it cool while conjuring an excuse. "You got me, I'm from Orre."

"No way!" He grins. "A stone's throw to the southwest. Hot as Hell there. But, wow, you hardly got a tan!"

Guess that's true. Should have thought harder on my alibi. Being injured in the hospital several days sure has made me pale.

"Anyyyway, welcome to Rocaire," he says awkwardly, "this is probably confusing to an 'Orreo', but the leader of the town, our mayor, is given the title of the town, Cortex."

"Thanks." I feel a wave of relief.

"Since you're new, I'll give you the 4-1-1. Rocaire is a lot like Orre—won't find fancy Gyms the way you would in congested regions – at least not yet. We got 'Home Rules' which means towns like this one got a lotta say in self-governing. Has to do with living on the frontier, and the nature of Trials along the Path of the Ancients being an individual journey. Though, many can't do it alone. With the New League, seems like more people than ever are giving it a try, but there's no doubt their vision's different from the Ancient's traditions."

I consider the New League's encroachment on Rocaire's traditions. "Training in stuffy Gyms, collecting cheap aluminum badges, remembering rulebooks the size of a legal treatise; those modern ways of training monsters don't exactly fit with Walking the Path of the Ancients, huh?"

"You said it, Al. Walking the Path once you're of age and of mental fortitude is a sacred practice here in Rocaire, as old as the Sacred Land itself. Pathwalkers from ancient times would bond with the powerful monsters inhabiting the territory and become in tune with nature." Glancing to the sunlit window, Harrison furrows his brow. "Things haven't been the same since the Great War. The New League advertises its take on the Old Ways as an improvement, more accessible, and modern. The Ambassador Program doesn't help either."

Yeah. It doesn't. However, I bite my tongue.

"Oh, you're probably wondering what that is," says Harrison. "Y'see, the Great War hit our region especially hard, disrupted our traditions since most able-bodied trainers were drafted. Cause of that, there's fewer walkers of the Path than ever before. The metropolitan capital of Dezear, where the New League HQ is, has been reaching out to trainers from other Leagues to take on Precept Centers being built throughout Rocaire. The goal of those trainers brought in by the Ambassador Program is to help the New Rocaire League establish official Gyms based on their reports and traffic. Problem is, building a League this way skips right over the whole idea of the Ancient Path—focuses on convenience above all else. Precept Centers in towns where the Trials are held is one thing, 'cos they're where people have lived since times of the Ancients, but turning sacred sites of the Great Guardians, the Vortexes, into tourist stops isn't right! That's not what the Path or Rocaire is about. Hell, those trippers aren't even from around here…!" Harrison, clearly frustrated by matters beyond his control, shakes his head. "…Sorry, no offense to you, Al. You seem like a decent enough guy."

"Naw, I get where you're coming from, all that shit's at odds with the ancient tradition of walking the Path," I surmise. "A new movement takes advantage of societal changes, muscles in to replace it with its own version of the future."

"Cortex is doing a good job of keeping the New League at a distance and focusing on our community," says Harrison. "He's here every day, building up a crew of trainers to take on the Path together with him. He knows his efforts alone won't stop the League from overhauling other places in the region, that's why he's going to Walk the Path and show them what it really means."

"Still, Leagues got a lot of power at their fingertips to change things," I answer. "Technology connecting everyone, the PC transfer systems, GPS, it's all fascinating stuff. But things like mandatory 'mon registrations, pushed by Leagues as they spread across the continent is a power-grab at best, and, at worst, authoritarian."

"Registration and licensing s'pposed to prevent monster abuse, which is a big problem." Harrison remains skeptical. "They say during the war it got way outta control. That's the League's reason for requiring it, they even give incentives to businesses to encourage compliance."

That inflated bill Ette presented me with at the hospital is a bitter reminder of non-compliance. "It's a good cause, monster abusers are scum," I respond. "However, you've probably never abused your 'mons in your life, and the League's treating you like you're already guilty of someone else's crime by coercing you to register like an offender."

He frowns. "If there's nothing to hide, what's the big deal?"

"It's none of their business. Just b'cause everyone's got potential to do something rotten doesn't mean you gotta give up your rights. Lotta people don't even wanna argue with losing their privacy, afraid they might be flagged as people who'd do those terrible things." I sigh. "Truth is there's always gonna be bad people in the world. Giving all this power to an exclusive group like a League doesn't stop bad people, it gives 'em an opportunity to be in total control."

Harrison wonders. "Y'think the Leagues are up to no good?"

"I doubt it." It's difficult for me to peg what are essentially modern trainer guilds as genuinely nefarious organizations. "Leagues who get too big for their britches though, they're what I like to call the nanny state. Good intentions, poor implementation. They act as though they've got everyone's best interest in mind."

I can tell he's in deep thought by the way he keeps looking out that window at the big blue sky. "That sounds worse," he finally says. "Cos they got justification to say it's for your own good even if it makes things worse."

"Certainly possible, man." I steer away from the weighty issue. "So, you've been in Rocaire your whole life? Is that how you got interested in the Path?"

"Yup. Wouldn't trade it for the world. See, towns in Rocaire got their own tourneys and challenges—called Trials—at the sites of ancient ceremonies for testing people's mettle alongside their 'mons which help them grow their bond."

"Their bond?"

"The Ancients claimed it's a sort of spiritual strength you share with your buddies," he explains. "Some people can discern it, like a kind of aura you feel. And if you fully walk the Path just like the Ancients did, then you'll get the ability to see those bonds from the Great Guardians as a gift."

"Sounds neat." I cross my arms. "Then why aren't people signing up in droves to do something cool like that?"

He frowns. "It ain't easy, that's why."

"Figures."

"Completing Trials earn the Pathwalker trophies, each one's a unique piece of equipment supposed to make the journey easier. Let's see, there's the Compass, the Cloth, the Cap, and the Blade. From Cortex, Chenare, Pryleo, and Belkridge."

I make mental note of these trophies Pathwalkers gather and the places they're found. "So one's right here in Cortex. Just my luck."

"But that's not the only thing a Pathwalker's gotta do," cautions Harrison. "There are three Summits in Rocaire: The Sun, The Moon, and The Sky. These places were called Vortexes by the Ancients. All three places of power impart a sort of vestige – or trace the Great Guardians can sense – on the Pathwalker, that's key to completing the Path. It's got something to do with the geographic points forming a giant triangle in the region between the arid Savage Lands, the cold Frost Lands, and the windy Great Plains. A Pathwalker's gotta endure it all alongside his friends or the bond won't be strong enough for the Great Guardians to recognize."

I raise my brow skeptically.

"Venturing alongside monsters, taking on Trials, walking the Path." Harrison grins like he's fantasizing. "All to become strong enough to work with the Great Guardians protecting Rocaire! I guess we got it a little easier though with technology. But think of the history, all the people who walked the Path over so many years! That's so much cooler than being a trainer chasing boring League badges, amirite?"

I wouldn't know. I'm not a real trainer. Just an imposter. But ever since I put on these clothes, I've been acting like one. Why? What the hell's wrong with me? I feel uncomfortably warm, like all my fabrications have possessed the fabric I'm wearing. My lies are surrounding me, closing in around me, suffocating me. What's with this awful feeling?

Harrison notices my writhing. "How'd you hurt your arm?" he asks.

The whole room feels like it's swaying around me. Must be the drugs lingering in my body. Yeah, that's gotta be it. By leaning on a table I steady myself. "Wild 'mon." I cough dryly.

Color drains from his face. "Shit. For real?"

"Yep." I try to recall Ette's summary of my injuries. Can remember her voice so clearly, just not what she actually said to me. "Bastard took a piece of me."

"Damn." He shakes his head. "What about your pals? Couldn't they help?"

My mind goes blank. Harrison, the locker room, my own thoughts, all of them fade away. All I see is uniform, endless, whiteness. The inexorable sensation of nothingness, I don't know how long it lasts.

"Hey!" A voice cuts through the void. "Al! Hey, Alex! You okay, man?"

Who's Alex?

Suddenly I come back to my body, dry eyes and a tapestry of color in front of me.

"Alex, c'mon man, you're spacing out. You feel alright?"

Oh, that's right, he's talking to me. I'm Alex, the fake trainer. I open my mouth, but I'm hollow inside, no words leave my throat. Just an arid gasp.

Harrison's quiet, might be thinking my friends didn't make it. It would explain why I don't have a single capture ball. Let him think whatever he wants.

I manage to break the silence. "—That challenge you mentioned, the one with Cortex, what's it involve?"

"Well," he says with a more watchful expression, "the challenge is to win against Cortex and then the Trial is climbing the Mountain in Shadow."

"Huh." That matches up with what the kid and his grandfather were talking about. "You challenged him?"

"Yeah, that's the easy part – only gimmick is you gotta use his own 'mons in the fight." Harrison crosses his hands behind his neck. "Means they get battle experience while your guys are left high and dry. It also forces people to train with each other here at the Precept Center before they make their climbing attempt. The journey up the mountain isn't easy. Someone got really hurt on their way up there recently, so the trail's been closed."

"Ouch." Can't believe I'm grumbling at my own calamity. Or maybe that's my stomach grumbling. "That sucks."

"Hey, I got an idea, let's grab something to eat and get you signed up for a challenge," urges Harrison. "I wanna see your coaching skills in action!"

"Shit, I'm not up for a battle." But the promise of food is beyond tempting.

"C'mon, it'll be cake. And it'll be helpful for your training!"

Did he really have to say the word cake? Oh God, now my stomach is growling like crazy. "If I'm gonna take on the challenge at least get me something to eat first."

"Nervous?" he asks with a laugh.

"No way, just starving." It's half-true at least.

I follow him through the indoor training facilities, until we reach a mess hall. "Plenty of leftover food in the cafeteria from lunch! But you gotta swear to put on a good show for everyone."

I hurry to fix myself a sizable platter of meats and greens. The burger is delicious and juicy. And the veggies are fresh and satisfying as well. It all goes down the hatch as fast as possible. I wash it all down with two big cups of water. And then I go again for a second. Round two manages to fill me up.

"Damn!" exclaims Harrison. "No wonder you were spacing out before. Feel more alive?"

My head nods as I pant, "That…was the most amazing leftovers ever."

"No kiddin'. Not gonna take a nap are ya?" he jokes.

"Nah." Except I would if I wasn't so anxious about what's next.

"Good stuff. Alright, c'mon." Harrison leads me down a hallway to a door that opens to the open-air arena. There are a group of people training their 'mons on the various track and field utilities. My guide raises his lanky arms up and proclaims, "We've got a new challenger, Alex from Orre!"

Those training noisily gather around the center battlefield. Even though it's a small crowd, I'm afraid someone might recognize me from the clinic. What do I do then? Ette isn't around to bail me out. Why did she even do that anyway?

Damn nerves. Need to focus just to keep my legs from shaking. But it's not me, something else is causing the quaking. The heavy stomps are coming from a battle-scarred biped with rock armor plates.

"…Rhydon." My mouth says its name as it lumbers across the battlefield, to the cheers of many. The beast's massive, about the size of an RV.

Crushing small rocks under its hefty weight, it stomps toward me. Once it reaches the perimeter marked in the dirt it lets out an incredible roar and spins its drill horn like a dentist ready to work.

The arena erupts into applause. Beyond the behemoth, on the other side of the field, comes a tall man with straight black hair reaching to his shoulders and a stately mustache. He's wearing western attire and a ten-gallon hat. Must be Cortex.

"Alright, you'll get pitted against two." Harrison points to the arena and enthusiastically gives a thumbs up. "Good luck, Al!"

"Wait…Rhydon is MY guy?!" I exclaim.

The beast grunts, ejecting a jet of steam from its snout. I can tell it's pissed off. Hell, I'd be mad too if someone as sad as me had to be my battle coach.

"Actually, she's a girl." In a commanding voice that carries over the cheers of the growing crowd, the dark-haired Cortex addresses me from the other side of the field. "The dimorphism is slight, note how her horn is short and stout."

Never been close enough to one of these giants to actually notice that. She turns her back before I can get a good look. Will she really listen to me? Under my breath I begrudge, "I'm not her trainer, we got no connection—"

Two flashes of light shine across the field. Suddenly a hunchback ice pig and an angry fire monkey are flanking my rock rhino.

"It's Piloswine and Darmanitan!" shouts someone from the crowd. "Those are his other two strongest!"

Cortex doesn't even hesitate to engage. "Pincer movement! Ice Shard! Fire Punch!"

The hefty swine lobs huge chunks of ice blown from between its tusks. Frozen bricks assail my beast, chipping at her hide in a barrage of rough blows. Fortunately, she's smart—tucks her arms in as shields to brace her vitals from the attack.

But then from the other side the ape's burning eyebrows form a massive fireball above its head. It winds up a big swing, punching the ball straight at her. The ensuing burst of flame breaks her guard, allowing for more of the pig's ice missiles to land on her vulnerable hide.

Well, shit, what do I do? They've practiced this strategy before, they're completely prepared and coordinated so that they don't take friendly fire. The ice pig is more of a threat to my girl, the monkey's more of an annoyance, but together they're a tough force. However, their pincer formation has a flaw, since their forces are divided, it can be exploited by a focused attack. Luckily, I've seen some competitive battles and know the ultimate, ass-kicking move for the job.

"Break their formation further apart with Outrage!" I leave it up to her, so she'll get the drop on her target.

She snorts, then starts glowing orange; her rock-clad body radiates with power and might. Accompanying a vicious roar, she charges at the swine, sailing across the arena like a comet, leaving a scorching energy in her wake. Makes me wish I'd brought shades.

"Underground!" reminds Cortex.

By recalling the third dimension of the field, depth, the swine manages to escape the rock-clad beast by a split-second.

"I've never seen him burrow so fast—!" exclaims Harrison from the stands. I quickly glance at him, expecting some valuable guidance or insight to follow. "—Only for his favorite truffles!"

"Truffles? Are you frickin' kidding me?" What the hell, man! The pig's favorite mushrooms isn't the type of battle advice I need!

Turning back to my girl, she's been set off-balance from whiffing, but still has plenty of steam. She's energetically scouring the uneven terrain, searching for where the pig's hiding.

"Boost your power while she's distracted!" says Cortex.

Darmanitan smashes its gut with a shining paw, like a desperate stab. The force from the self-inflicted blow causes its bushy fire eyebrows to scorch in high arches above its squat body, like lava plumes from a volcano. It squeals loudly and its overly animated face distresses. Then it gulps down on a creamy berry held in its other hand.

What the fuck's it doing attacking itself? Something stinks about this. The pig disappeared, and it'll strike my girl if she goes after the burning sasquatch. However, 'mons injuring themselves never lead to good outcomes. Worth the risk to put an end to the threat, then she can go one-on-one with the other 'mon.

Rhydon is scanning for Piloswine, but at the same time Darmanitan is boosting its power, if she doesn't act now all her defense will mean nothing.

"It's weakened," I tell her, "give it hell with a tantrum!"

The juggernaut stomps through the debris at the other 'mon, then swings her huge rock arms forward to spring high into the air like a gymnast. A gymnast weighing a ton. Her stomping tantrum slam hits like a fiery meteor—the explosion covers the arena with a brilliant flash. The crowd goes nuts.

While she's getting applause, the monkey rolls out like a ball from below her, its fur transforms from a bushy red to smooth blue. Its eyes go vacant, as if in a deep trance.

Piloswine bursts out from the earth from my 'mon's blindside, slamming into her with an incredible force and toppling her prone. The crowd hushes in suspense.

"Crud!" I shout. "C'mon, roll to the left and use your tail to counter!"

She's able to crawl, but the swine's relentless. The woolly monster keeps nailing her back with icicle spears. Her heavy tail swats some of the projectiles away, but it's too slow to deflect them all. Each one that gets through her defense bites deeper into her rock hide. Frost is beginning to form on her body's shell, adding further torpor to her movements.

"Shit, this isn't looking good, we gotta go on the offensive before it's too late!" There's one thing her adversary is dangerously close to while she's on the ground. "Give it the drill!" I roar.

Rhydon spins around, flicking her long tail high into the air as she circles the swine on all fours. She thunders toward it, her drill spinning wildly. The flung chunks of ice shatter over her horn into diamond dust as she approaches.

"Flak attack, Mud Bomb!" yells Cortex.

A balloon of wet soil splatters on her spinning horn, spraying her in the eyes. She misses her target by mere inches.

"Dammit—pull back to the right and get that gunk outta your eyes!"

"And now set her off balance with Ancient Power!" yells my opponent.

While she manages to wipe away the mud from her face, she's unable to avoid the bludgeoning stones. The rocks smash against her back, crumbling as they do, the attack did not do much damage. However, Piloswine is aglow with a strange power. It's going to follow up with a stronger strike! It dashes straight toward her, with tusks empowered by ice and unprecedented speed.

"Swing for the fences!" I shout. "Use your tail to whale it away!"

She swings her whole body to build momentum. Her strike connects with the lurid cracking of a baseball bat. Rhydon follows through magnificently and gets to her feet. There's whistling in the crowd as the fuzzy monster is sent sailing across the arena. The spinning beast smashes into a pile of rocks near Cortex. However, it's still got strength to blow a cloud of frost from its snout.

Rhydon is spent, her breaths are labored. Her heavy tail smashes the ground hard. She hasn't been in this situation before. Hasn't been pushed to these limits. I could say the same for Piloswine. They're both giving their all.

"Time to finish this!" Cortex reassures, "You know what to do, just like we practiced! Earthquake!"

Was afraid of that. I don't think she can tank it. Her arms and legs instinctively start to bend inward in an attempt to endure the hit. But I tell her, "No! Don't resort to your habits! Hit 'em back with the same move! Full power, Rhydon! You can do this!"

The two beasts simultaneously unleash their devastating moves. One pounds the ground with her fists, the other leaps and smashes with a ground-pound. The entire arena shakes violently as the shockwaves merge. My body rattles and I nearly fall over.

On the other side of the arena, the monkey in stasis is tossed high up from riding the rippling waves. It smashes next to its winded partner, who is glowing with white light. Piloswine's flash smothers the whole arena in dazzling radiance. I shield my eyes.

When the light dissipates, there's a new monster in its place. A really big one. It's almost the size of Rhydon. The woolly beast shakes its shaggy fur and roars to thunderous applause.

"That's enough!" exclaims Cortex. "The battle is over, I concede to our challenger, Alex of Orre!"

Rhydon throws her fists in the air to celebrate. She bounces over to her fellow monsters, rubbing her cheek against Mamoswine. Even the frozen monkey thaws and leaps up into the air between them. The three monsters huddle together in a victorious pose.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to stop myself from bawling over the win. That incredible feeling that came over me while we were battling, what the hell was it?

"Woohoo! You did it, Al!" yells Harrison from the sideline. "That was amazing! They fought so hard one of them evolved on the spot!"

Sure, it feels good, but this was my best chance to score food and clothes. And really, the more I think about it, it's clearly her victory. She's the star, the one everyone's cheering for. I'm just the busted-down guy who got thrown into an acting role as her coach at the Precept Center.

"Way to do it to it, Rhydon," I say softly as the crowd of spectators begin to disperse.

From the corner of my eye, a familiar figure flows through the bleachers way in the back. Her copious green hair is unmistakable.

No way! That's her! It's Ette!