Ch.129: Festering Inferiority! Flint's Broken Spirit!

Flint stared wide-eyed at the Life Mage, jaw hanging askew. "What are you trying to say?"

Vernon pointed his staff at him. "Forgive me for intruding, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation." He tapped his staff down. "I'm a glutton for secrets, actually, and yours does bring delight to my intrusive curiosity."

Flint raised his paws and shook his head. "No, no, there aren't any secrets over here. I just can't keep traveling with my friends anymore."

Vernon nodded understandingly while leaning against his staff. "Ah yes, your leg injury. I got an update about it from Cielo."

Ava glared. "So, Master Cielo was indeed watching the tournament."

"He found a few new worthy recruits for his academy. Stellar battlers from what I've been told. Oh, but enough of that." Vernon swung his staff at Flint, spooking him as it came inches from bopping his face. "He mentioned how the elder Ravenfield succumbed to a terrible, crippling injury."

Flint awkwardly looked away. "I-I wouldn't call it 'crippling', but…"

"Regardless, I felt it would be fitting to confront you myself. After all, one piece of the prophecy being taken out of the equation would be detrimental."

Wes glared and stepped forward. "Hold on, if you're trying to guilt him into staying with us—" Vernon raised his hand and silenced Wes.

"Far from it. Outside of battle, I don't confront with force. Communication is the far more effective tool." He extended his hand to Flint. "Perhaps I can assist you on the matter."

"Assist me?" Flint gasped.

Ava raised her brow. "Vernon, are you offering to heal Flint's leg?" The others gasped.

Vernon smiled sadly. "Healing magic is a wonderous tool, but not quite as developed as most other forms. You seek advanced Medical-Class magic. They deal with these sorts of injuries." He sighed. "Alas, the practice is time consuming, taking even the best years of study to perfect. Healing external wounds and minor internal wounds like bone fractures and sprains are possible, but your injury is more complicated. I imagine many of your leg's nerves were severely damaged. There's only so much a doctor can do to repair those types of injuries, and there's only so much someone learning the complex art of magic can accomplish."

Flint frowned. "So, you can't help me?"

"Not me, but you could seek a medical magician to consult. I wish you luck, given they tend to be small in numbers, often limited their knowledge in specific clans and families."

"I see…" Flint looked to the floor sadly.

Gwyn rubbed his back. "It was worth a shot."

Ava crossed her arms. "If you're not here to heal him, why are you here?"

"Like I said, I wish to speak with the elder Ravenfield. I want to get to know him, learn his ambitions, and come to understand his reasons for quitting."

Wes narrowed his eyes. "My brother has been through a lot recently. I don't really appreciate someone we barely know coming in and acting as his therapist."

Vernon smiled. "You're a good younger brother, Wes Ravenfield, for looking out for him. I can assure you I will only go as far in my questioning as Flint will allow." Vernon glanced at the Flareon. "Assuming you don't mind humoring me."

"I…I don't know," Flint said. "Even if I wasn't feeling moody, I'm still not too much help for the others. I can't keep up with them like this."

"That's a matter of perspective," Vernon said. "Of course, I can guide you if you allow me."

Flint kept his eyes on the floor as he thought it over, then looked at Wes and Gwyn, the two people he trusted most to advise him. "What do you two think?"

Gwyn rubbed her nape. "Well…"

Wes sighed. "I'm still hung up about what happened in Gelid Peak. Honestly, it might be best for you to talk to someone more experienced in this type of stuff than us. Vernon sounds like he knows what he's talking about."

Gwyn hesitated, then nodded in agreement. "We're doing the best we can, but maybe getting a…a…what's the term again?"

"Third party opinion?" Wes guessed.

"Yeah, that's it. A third party opinion. After all, we want what's best for you, but maybe Vernon has something else for you."

Flint looked at them sadly. "I still don't want to disappoint all of you."

Wes smiled. "We'll be fine with whatever you do, just like we said. For right now, you need help."

Gwyn nodded. "It's the best thing you can do for yourself, right? In the end, we just want you to be confident in your choice."

Flint took a deep breath, then nodded. "Alright. For you guys, I'll do it."

Wes smiled. "Thanks, bro." He and Gwyn hugged Flint, which he happily returned.

Once they parted, Flint faced Vernon. "So, where should we speak?"

"There's a nice part of the forest we can chat. You'll find the terrain peaceful and welcoming." Vernon gestured Flint out first.

Flint looked back and waved to the others. "I'll be back later."

"Take your time," Wes said. Flint nodded and stepped outside with Vernon. Once the door closed, Wes let out a deep sigh. "I suppose the next item on our agenda is figure out a representative for Team Ravenfield. Who should fight Vernon?"

"Maybe Griffin?" Gwyn suggested.

"He'll burn down the entire forest if he tried," Holly said. "Best he didn't."

"As much as I don't want to say it, Ella might not be fully ready to take on one of the mages on her own," Ava added.

"So, that leave Gwyn, Tony, and me," Wes said. "Tony could navigate the forest with his speed and outmaneuver Vernon. And Gwyn's got a homefield advantage out here."

Gwyn nodded. "And you're magically adept, so—"

"Wait, where is Tony?" Holly asked all of a sudden. "Did he say where he was heading off to?"

Wes blinked, then rubbed his chin. "I…don't think he said where he was." He then shrugged it off. "Probably goofing off like usual."

"Holy shit, it's on fire!"

"What did I do wrong?"

"Put it out, dammit!"

Leroy gripped his seamitar and slashed at the flames, extinguishing them in a powerful gust. Left behind on the wired rack above the firepit was a circular disc of misery as black as tar. There were barely distinguishable slices of pepperoni and various berries on top of the dish.

Tony held his forehead in exasperation. "Why did you think using that much lightning would cook it faster?"

"Well, it did, didn't it?" Leroy asked stoically.

Tony threw an annoyed grin. "Oh yes, it's certainly cooked. Well done, even. I dare say it'll make an excellent disc for a game of catch."

"That attitude of yours is infuriating."

Tony pressed his hands over his eyes and let out a big sigh. "Good grief, you managed to burn through seven pizzas in one hour. How are you this incompetent at cooking?"

"It's too complicated."

"Too complica—how?! You just leave the pizza on the rack and let it cook over the fire! The only thing you need to worry about is the fire not sending it up in smoke!"

"It was taking too long."

"You can't just cook something at nine thousand degrees and expect it to be edible afterwards! Why do you think people complain at restaurants that their food is taking so long? Food needs time to cook! Well, that and a backlog of orders, but not my point."

Leroy sighed and sat down. "You're not making any sense."

"You really were raised purely to fight and protect," Tony mumbled. "It's the only thing you can't screw up."

Leroy closed his eyes. "Perhaps I should just order food instead."

"No!" Tony yelled. "If you want any sense of redeemability, I will pound the basics of cooking into your head until you produce something that doesn't make a Grimer recoil in disgust."

Leroy glanced at his son wearily. "You know a lot about cooking, don't you?"

"I self-taught most of this stuff. It comes naturally. When you're living on a budget with a sick mother, you have to pick a few skills up."

Leroy took a deep breath, then stood up. "I have much to learn. Let us try again. I think I have it this time."

Tony glared at the burnt disc before them. "Can't say you lack confidence." He tossed the disc into the pile of other pizza abominations and pulled out a ball of dough. "Roll this out into a circle." He tossed it to Leroy. "Don't mess it up."

Leroy caught it and rolled his eyes. "I can handle rolling out dough."

"Says the guy who set it on fire to keep it flattened."

"It wouldn't stay in place no matter how many times I rolled it out!"

"Do you just set everyone you don't like on fire or something?!"

Vernon and Flint walked into the forest in a comfortable silence. Vernon kept pace with the much slower Flareon, even offering some assistance walking. Flint refuse politely, wanting to get back into walking on his own.

Vernon came to a stop, prompting Flint to stop beside him. "Here we are." Vernon tapped the ground twice. Flint gasped as a tree branch shaped like a hand lowered down in front of them. Vernon stepped into the palm, gesturing Flint to follow. He gulped and followed the mage onboard, crouching down as the hand rose into the air.

They reached the cluster of branches high above the ground, stepping out onto a large branch large enough to support two dozen or so people. Vernon sat down and stretched his limbs while Flint nervously clung to the branch, eyes glued to the long drop below.

"You have nothing to fear, Flint Ravenfield," Vernon assured, gently patting his head. "You are in no danger of plummeting to your demise."

"Wonderful," Flint mumbled, digging his claws into the wood.

Vernon set his staff aside and leaned back. Flint gasped as the Sawk fell backwards, only to see he had his legs hooked around the branch. Flint sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against the branch.

"Now then," Vernon started as he hung upside-down, "you say you want to give up adventuring?"

"Is that a problem?" Flint asked, trying not to sound rude.

"Oh, of course not. If you're not up to it, then I have no reason to influence your decision. You are your own ship, and you will steer yourself to whatever destination befits you."

"Then, why did you bring me out here if you're not trying to convince me otherwise?"

"Because, Flint Ravenfield, fear is the very thing the Shadow King instills onto others. Doubts and insecurities, personal fears, a darker side we wish not to acknowledge about our psyche; that is the shadow itself." Vernon pulled himself back up. "It's a wonderful conversation topic. Why does the Shadow King prey on these sorts of feelings? Is it by instinct or perhaps more?"

"What does this have to do with me?"

Vernon sighed. "You and your team were exposed to the Shadow King. See, as I was tasked with keeping an eye on the tomb, I was taught all knowledge on the shadows that we had. One thing that has always stood out was the Shadow King's influence on others. That brief interaction might've awakened something."

Flint narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying these feelings aren't my own?"

"The Shadow King can't force you to feel doubt or insecure. No, those feelings have to come from you. Everyone has a shadow, and we often choose never to acknowledge it. We fear that part of ourselves that is skirting the line of morally corrupt. Or, we're often ashamed of ourselves for feeling a certain way. What was that famous story? Dr. Jackal and Mr. Hydra? Something like that, repressing the parts of us that we're ashamed of."

Flint frowned. "I see."

"You had these feelings in Ironworks, which wasn't that long after you encountered the Shadow King. Perhaps the stress of his influence is finally taking its toll." Vernon narrowed his eyes. "Or, perhaps, you are ashamed of yourself, Flint Ravenfield."

Flint looked away, ears falling over his face. "Where do I even start?"

"Tell me, did you and Wes have a good childhood together?"

Flint smiled. "Of course. We grew up doing everything together. We were inseparable. We both dreamed of exploring the world like our father. We played pretend a lot. We were famous and renown treasure hunters exploring the world and hunting the most dangerous of tombs. It was a grand time."

"Take a look at this, my trusty partner!" a young Wes exclaimed holding out a map crudely drawn out in crayon. "The Jewel of Manaphy, hidden in the ancient, unexplored Backyardia!"

Flint puffed out his chest. "Unexplored for now until we unearth all its treasures."

"Yeah! Let's make our claim to history!" The two Eevee skipped through their backyard, dressed in their father's old exploration gear, complete with pygmy hats and tiny backpacks. Wes stopped and stuck his foreleg out. "Brother, ahead! A trap!"

Flint gasped. "The ancient one's olden magic before our eyes!"

In front of them were metal poles jabbed in the ground with toilet paper connected all around them. In the center of the 'trap' was a ring lay on a couch pillow.

"What a beautiful mark of architecture," Flint praised the structure.

"Time to make my mark as the greatest treasure hunter ever!" Wes exclaimed, racing towards the trap.

"Be careful!" Flint called out.

"I'll be fine!"

Wes dashed through the toilet paper trap, weaving through the tight gaps with acrobatic precision. Or, at least, that's how he imagined it. He rolled under the first layer and carefully hopped over another strand, all while humming an intense theme song to himself.

"Who's the best? I'm the best! Who's number one? I'm number one! Who's the greatest treasure hunter? I—" Before Wes could finish, his paw got caught in the toilet paper, causing him to trip forward into a tangled mess.

Flint turned away and covered his eyes as their set up came crashing down. When he looked back, Wes was laying dizzily on the pillow wrapped like a mummy. "You okay?" Flint called out.

Wes pulled himself together and presented the ring. "Haha! The Jewel of Manaphy is ours!"

Flint sighed. "Oh good, you're okay."

"What's going on out here?" The brothers tensed up as their mom and dad walked out into the backyard, noting the mess of toilet paper on the ground. Vivian blinked in bewilderment. "What the…?"

Garret scratched his cheek. "Huh, I thought I noticed stuff missing from the closet."

Vivian glared. "What are you two doing?"

Wes and Flint threw their gear off and smiled innocently. "Nothing."

"And why do you have my wedding ring?"

Wes immediately tossed it over the fence without thinking. "What wedding ring?"

"Wes!" Flint yelled.

"What?"

A voice came from behind the fence. "Whoa, where'd this ring come from? Bet I can sell it for some sweet cash!"

The brothers turned to their mother, noting the obvious twitch in her left eye. Garret gently pushed her back into the house. "Kids, go to your rooms before your mother says something she'll regret. Honey, go lay down, I'll get the ring back."

Flint gave a sideways glare to Wes, who laughed awkwardly. "Uh…oops."

"We were always causing trouble for our mom, but she took it in good spirits after a while." Flint pulled on the rim of his hat. "Those were some unforgettable times, let me tell you."

Vernon nodded. "You and your brother have a special relationship most siblings often dream of. Most drift apart after some time."

"We can thank our dad for that. With his stories and sense for adventure, it drove us to explore the world. That's what really kept Wes and I close for so long. Our dad was always there to keep us together." Flint sighed. "A lot changed ever since Dad died. Our village knew of his successes, so the news of his death hit them pretty hard."

"That so?"

"Treasure hunting took a bit of a controversial turn after the funeral. It's now seen as a risky endeavor. High risk, high reward. Sometimes, it's high risk, no reward. Wes didn't care. He wanted to be just like Dad and explore every inch of the unexplored. I'm no different, though I desire to study the undiscovered. It's why Wes and I made such a fantastic team." Flint frowned. "Things changed, though, and I do miss those days."

"You miss being a kid?"

"Who doesn't? Life was simpler back then." Flint sighed. "You get older, you realize times moving faster and people aren't as nice as they seem. Things like crime and controversy become more obvious and sometimes you see just how messed up everything is. Sometimes I don't mind living as an ignorant kid if it meant I could keep exploring the world with Wes."

Vernon tapped the tree twice and sprouted two apples. He picked them off and passed one to Flint. "Do you suppose your lack of confidence comes from a lack of self-recognition?"

Flint gently nibbled his apple before asking, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you don't seem all that sure of the society. You feel like everything around you is terrible. You said you hang off the praise of others. You seek approval." Vernon narrowed his eyes. "I think you and Wes suffer from similar problems."

"Huh?"

"Or rather, the root of your issues starts from your father. You both idolized him greatly, so you took that idolization and molded it into who you are now." Vernon paused to bite into his apple. "His death hit you both pretty hard."

Flint frowned, looking down at his apple. "Wes was a wreck for weeks. I could barely keep myself together for my mom's sake."

"He was your role model, I presume."

"Yes."

"And did your confidence issues start up before or after your father's death?"

Tears glistened in Flint's eyes. The apple trembled between his paws. "…After."

Vernon sighed. "I see." He took a second bite from his apple, then lay down on the branch. "Flint, did you enjoy high school?"

"Not particularly."

"Why's that?"

Flint closed his eyes. "Because that's when I realized how much I cared about my dad's opinion of me."

Flint followed quietly behind Wes in the school halls. The Umbreon was blathering away about a recent treasure hunt he, Flint, and Ella went on recently, showing off pictures of the jewels they found. It got the school talking and asking what happened. Wes surely did emulate their father when it came to dramatic storytelling. Extravagant gestures and voices and mildly exaggerated revisions to what actually happened.

"Ten goons were chasing us through the building, but they weren't fast enough to keep up with me," Wes boasted. "Flint and Ella got the jewels out while I gave those fools the slip. It was the easiest steal ever."

"That's really cool, Wes," a Gible said. "Did they ever track you down?"

"Oh, they did. They thought they could ambush us on the road, but I made sure to send them packing." Wes pulled his Star Amulet out from under his shirt. "With this baby, I can take on just about anyone."

Flint gulped and raised his paw. "H-Hey. Interesting fact about those jewels, actually. They're actually said to come from a ruler of the Desert Zone who—"

"Yeah, yeah, that's cool," a Sandshrew dismissed. "So Wes, when do you think you'll go on your next big quest?"

"We're actually planning one this weekend," Wes stated. "We're checking out this cool cave off in the Razor Fields."

"Dude, that's sick!"

"I know, right?"

Flint laughed nervously. "Y-Yeah, there's supposed to be an amulet in the cave that can—"

"Do you think you can take me with you, Wes?" the Sandshrew asked.

"No way!" a Vulpix yelled before leaning up against Wes, fluttering her eyelashes. "I want to go with you, Wes~."

Wes laughed a little. "I…have a girlfriend."

"She doesn't need to know~."

"Trust me, I'm doing you a favor saying no."

Flint dragged his paws against the floor, falling behind the group until they disappeared around the corner. Flint looked down glumly, then walked in the opposite direction.

"How can anyone not be interested in the history of King Badru?" Flint grumbled, face pressed into his desk. "Sure, the monetary value of the jewels is nice, but there's some fascinating historical context to their significance than just 'Ooh, pretty rock. Money!' You know what I mean?"

The poor Nickit he sat next to was rubbing his temples, trying his hardest not to groan. "Flint, I really don't care about King Bad Brew."

"Badru."

"Whatever. Can we just focus on our project?"

Flint sighed. "Right. Sorry."

"Thank you." The Nickit took his pencil and scribbled on some paper. "Now, so far, we have General Rose's background figured out, as well as his military accomplishments. Did you find any notable topics in the battles he took part in?"

"I mean, when you actually look into the history of the jewels—" Flint started off again, causing the Nickit to throw his pencil in the air in frustration. "—you'll see their true beauty. For instant, the ruby that was gifted to him? That was a gift from an enemy ruler who tried to overtake his land. They were once childhood friends, but King Badru had to defect from his former friend's land after—"

"Okay, I'm done." Flint's eyes widened as the Nicket pushed their papers to the side. "Dude, I like you and all, but you really need to dial it back. I've been patient enough with your problems, but I just want to get this stupid project done."

Flint frowned. "Hey, General Rose was a respectable military leader. He led the Battle of Dead Man's Eye. He studied the terrain and secret routes far beyond any other rogue group could gather. That was an important battle for the Desert Zone, otherwise the nearby towns would've been dragged down in the ensuing invasion…" Flint stopped as the Nickit furiously wrote down everything he said. "Ah."

"Sometimes your babbling comes in handy." Nickit put his pencil down. "Look, if you're jealous your brother is getting more attention than you, just say it instead of being passive aggressive with me."

Flint glared. "I'm not jealous of Wes."

"Uh huh, sure."

"I'm not, seriously."

Nickit crossed his forelegs. "You seriously need a break. Have you considered dating?"

Flint scratched his cheek. "Uh, well…a couple of times."

"Great, do that. Take your mind off things and do something else other than trying to please a bunch of nobodies."

Flint gulped and shuddered nervously. "I'm not so sure about that, Andre."

"Why? It's simple. I've dated plenty of girls. Just walk up to them, butter them up a bit, and ask them out to dinner."

"I've tried asking girls out before." Flint tapped his digits together. "I can't really get the words out without choking on my own air."

Andre rolled his eyes. "Well, you aren't doing yourself any favors complaining about your brother."

Flint sighed. "I don't want to feel jealous of Wes or anything, but it does suck when he soaks up all the attention. At least Ella gets some credit since she's popular, too. I'm…practically a nobody."

Andre sighed. "High school is a drag. That's why I'm moving out to the Desert Zone the second I graduate from this dump. I'm thinking of taking up an apprenticeship as a weaponsmith." Andre patted Flint's shoulder. "Listen, these people are all starry-eyed about being famous explorers, but they're just sucking up to your brother. You actually have a future ahead of you, not those losers."

"I guess." Flint pulled a little on his prized bowler hat, frowning as he stared at the brim. "We should probably get back to the project."

"Finally." Andre pulled their papers back over and picked up his pencil. "Now, what did you find on General Rose again?"

"…Hey, Andre."

Andre groaned. "Now what?"

Flint lowered his head meekly. "After school, do you think you could give me…dating advice?"

Andre blinked in surprised, then smiled. "Sure thing, pal."

"Excellent work on your paper, Flint," said the middle-aged Butterfree as she handed the Flareon his graded essay. "Your thesis on the Solaris Clan and their culture was one of the best I've seen."

Flint smiled. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Wells. I was really proud of what I wrote. The Solaris Clan's beliefs regarding the importance of Solgaleo is often misconstrued due to the lack of available written text, but I was able to find all the necessary information I needed. It's actually quite fascinating."

Mrs. Wells chuckled. "Indeed. You have a good future ahead of you, Flint. Keep it up and you might just be the next big historian."

"You really think so?"

"With your enthusiasm, I know so."

Flint bowed his head. "Thank you very much, ma'am!" Flint raced back to his seat beside Andre. "She said I did great on my paper. Isn't that awesome?"

Andre, looking over the C+ on his paper, smirked. "Dude, everyone in the class heard you. Again."

Flint looked around and saw a few jealous glares from his other classmates. He chuckled nervously and sunk into his chair. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's just an A+, don't make a big deal about it."

Flint sat up. "But this is proof of my high marks and potential."

"No, it proves your paper wasn't filled with grammatical mistakes, covered in coffee stains, and done after five minutes of skimming through a single textbook."

Flint glared. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

"I actually put up with you."

"And you're a jerk."

"A jerk who offers the best dose of realism anyone could ask for."

Flint sighed, then smiled. "Oh, whatever. You may doubt me, but I trust Mrs. Wells' word. If she says I'll do great, I know I will."

"You say that about every teacher who praises you." Andre rolled his eyes. "That's practically every teacher you've had."

"Is that wrong?"

"You're a better student than me, that's for sure. Why do you care so much?"

Flint frowned, then looked down at his paper. "Well, it just feels nice to have my talents appreciated, that's all."

"I've complimented you before and you don't make a big deal about it."

"A C- student is hardly credible for good marks."

"No, no, no," Andre tutted. "C average student. No minus in there."

"Right, of course." Flint sighed and held up his paper. "I trust my teachers' judgments. I'm thinking of taking some college seminars."

"Already?"

"I want to speak to the head of the historical department and get his input on my research. I'm hoping that he likes it, because I want him to recognize my potential before I officially start college in a couple years."

Andre sighed. "You are a real overachiever. If you weren't so humble, I would've labeled you as a brown-nosed wannabe by now."

"Harsh."

Andre smirked. "I don't take crap from anyone. Just be proud of what you do and not what anyone else says." They looked up as the class was finally dismissed for the day. Andre picked up his bag and headed out. "I'll see you after school."

"Okay, bye!" Flint called out. Flint looked back at his paper, then closed his eyes. "Honestly, even though I feel proud of my research, I'm never certain if it's any good. Everyone else…has all the answers I need." He sighed, put the paper away, and headed off to his next class.

"This is a bad idea," Flint whimpered as he looked out from around the corner of the hall, nervously biting his claws. Up ahead was a female, Midday Lycanroc talking to her friends.

"What's so bad about it?" Andre asked with a bouquet of roses in his hand. "Just walk up to the gal and ask her on a date. You got this."

"She's a freakin' cheerleader, dude," Flint whispered through his teeth. "Can't I just ask out someone else? Someone who's social status won't crush me into the floor?" Flint groaned and held his stomach. "Ugh, I feel the anxiety bubbling in my stomach."

Andre rolled his eyes. "You worry way too much. Sure, she's got some attitude, but she's not a bitch from what I've been told."

"But why a cheerleader?"

"People put way too much emphasis on cheerleaders. They're not pillars of popularity or shit like that. They're girls, sometimes guys, who perform dangerous and labor intensive acrobatics while wearing very flattering uniforms for the sole purpose of entertaining the audience and boosting morale."

Flint blinked twice. "That's, uh…insightful?"

"Though, you got to admit, they got some hotties in the mix!" he immediately added.

Flint facepalmed. "And there it is—oof!" Andre shoved the roses into his paws.

"Just go talk to her. If you charm her into a date, maybe people will actually start listening to you. You know, like sheep do: bandwagon off trends and popular things."

"You are being extra cynical today."

"My date last night conned me out of a free dinner. I had to use all my allowance to pay that off."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

The Nickit waved it off. "It's whatever." He shoved Flint out into the hall. "Now get out there and show her your moves."

Flint stumbled forward, nervously shaking for a moment, then stiffly approached the wolf with the roses clutched firmly in his foreleg. His stomach grumbled with unease. His throat felt hot as flames built up within him. He had to stop for a moment to gulp down the flames, then continued his approach.

The Lycanroc still didn't notice him, even as he stood behind her. He glanced back at Andre, who nodded and gave him a good luck salute. Flint took a deep breath and turned toward the wolf.

"Uh, hi Camelia."

The Lycanroc, Camelia, stopped talking to her friends and turned to Flint, brow raised. "Can I help you?" she asked somewhat rudely.

Flint gulped, then presented the roses to her. "Th-These are for you." He shrunk a bit as Camelia's friends snickered at him.

Camelia sighed, now giving him an incredulous glare. "What do you want? Who are you?"

"I-I'm Flint Ravenfield."

"Ravenfield? Ah, you're Wes' little brother."

Flint shrunk farther to the ground. "Older brother, actually." His stomach churned, but he ignored it. "I-I wanted to talk to you. I've been watching you—not in a creepy way!" he quickly added. "Wait, I mean, I wanted to, uh…you look very pretty and stuff."

Camelia seemed unimpressed while her friends broke out into laughter. Flint's face glow brightly with embarrassment while Andre, peeking around the corner, covered his own face in secondhand embarrassment. The roses limped with Flint's mood.

Camelia rubbed her face and groaned. "Look, Flynn—"

"Flint."

"—this is sweet and all, but I'm not interested. No offense, you look kind of…dorky. Not really my type."

Flint whimpered. "I j-just want to get to know you. Maybe we can hang out during lunch or something."

"With a dork like you? As if!" the Bellossom next to Camelia exclaimed in laughter.

Camelia shot her a glare. "Knock it off." Bellossom immediately shut her mouth. Camelia faced Flint again, leaning in close. Flint's face glowed brighter while his stomach grumbles grew more anxious. "You said lunch?"

"Y-Yes?"

"I'm not really busy this Saturday, so maybe I could humor a lunch date with you."

Flint's eyes shrunk. "S-Seriously?"

"I said I'll humor you. Don't get worked up over it."

Flint's lips twitched into a smile. "No, no, th-that's fine." Meanwhile, Andre pumped his paw in victory.

Camelia sighed. "Alright, I'll see you Saturday at noon. Meet in front of the school?"

"C-Cool! That works for me. Thank you so…so…" Camelia raised her brow as Flint made a weird face and clutched his stomach. The rumblings were getting worse.

"Hey, are you okay—"

Everyone jumped back as Flint belched out a huge burst of flames right in Camelia's face. He immediately clamped his paws over his mouth, eyes wide in horror. Camelia backed away, eyes wide and face covered in burnt fur. The whole hallway was silent, staring agape at the Flareon.

Camelia's eye twitched before shifting into a glare. "What the hell is wrong with you!"

"I'm so sorry! That happens when I get nervous!" Flint tried to defend himself.

"Ugh, that's so disgusting!" Camelia rubbed her burnt face. "Look at what you did to my fur!"

Tears brimmed in Flint's eyes. He dropped the roses and bolted away from her. "I'm sorry!" he shouted.

"Flint, wait!" Andre called out as the Flareon raced past him. All Flint could think of was running as far away as possible.

The following evening, back home, Flint had himself held up in his room with his face buried into a pillow. His mom came by a couple of times to check on him, but he hasn't moved from his spot since.

Another knock sounded off his door before creaking open. He expected it to be his mother until two different paws patted his back. He looked up and saw Wes and Ella, staring down at him with sympathetic smiles.

"Hey," they said.

"Hey," he mumbled back.

They sat down on his bed. There was an awkward silence afterwards. Flint rolled onto his side, staring at his nightstand with reddened eyes.

Wes coughed into his paw and scratched his nape. "So, uh, good news: Camelia isn't pressing charges or anything extreme."

"And the fire didn't damage her face too badly," Ella added. "A little makeup will hide the…burnt patches."

"I'm a laughing stock, aren't I?" Flint mumbled.

Ella laughed awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. News got around pretty quickly. By the way, your pal Andre got suspended from school."

Flint sat up, wiping his dry eyes. "How?"

"Some jerk was mocking you and Andre kind of…well, you know how most bullies dunk someone's head in the toilet and give them a swirly? Andre did that…after seasoning the toilet water with chili powder."

Flint sniffled. "Oh."

Wes chuckled. "It was actually kind of funny."

Flint sighed and covered his face. "I can't go back to school."

"Oh, it's just one teeny little mistake, nothing to worry about," Wes said.

"No girl's ever going to date me after that," Flint groaned, collapsing back onto his pillow. "I'm going to die alone."

"No, you're not," Ella said, patting his head. "There are plenty of girls out there. Maybe they'll find it charming." That only worsened Flint's cries. "Okay, wrong choice of words."

Wes smiled. "It's just one slip up, Flint. I know there'll be plenty of other chances for you to get a girlfriend. You can't let this set you back."

Flint sighed. "I appreciate you guys trying to cheer me up, but I just want to be alone right now."

Wes and Ella glanced at each other, then nodded. "Alright. We'll come check on you later."

"Try and get some rest," Ella said before she and Wes hopped off and left the room.

Flint pulled his covers over himself and closed his eyes. "Plenty of other chances? Yeah, sure…"

"Flint, Flint, Flint!"

Flint stopped in the hallway on the way to his next class and turned as a couple of Pokémon ran up to him completely frazzled. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"You got to help us, please!" they exclaimed desperately.

Flint jumped back, keeping the papers he held pressed to his side. "Uh, with what?"

"We were goofing off and completely messed up our research papers for history!" the Magnemite cried. "We only have three days left and have no idea what we're doing!"

"You got to help us, please!" the Wigglytuff pleaded, hands pressed together. "We'll do anything! We'll buy you lunch! Give you money! We'll even clean your apartment!"

"Please, we're begging you!" they cried, bowing to him.

Flint blinked twice at them, then sighed. "Good grief, you guys need to chill." He smiled. "I'm free later tonight. I'll provide reference material, but I'm not helping you write the paper."

"That's all we can ask for, dude!" the Wigglytuff cried with joy.

Flint chuckled. "I'll swing by your places around seven. I'll help you with how you should write the papers. What are they on?"

"The Great Ocean Warrior," they said.

"Ah right, you're in that mythology course. I have some books you can use."

The duo sighed in relief. "Man Flint, you're so cool," Wigglytuff said. "You're so diligent with your work and always have your head on straight."

"You're going to make an awesome archeologist," the Magnemite stated.

Flint laughed bashfully. "Ah gee, you think so? Well, I guess I am pretty good. All those years of treasure hunting with Wes really paid off in the end."

"Ah, Wes, right," Wigglytuff mumbled. "Where the heck is that brother of yours, anyway?"

"Oh, he's…treasure hunting again," Flint answered awkwardly.

Magnemite sighed. "That lazybones, I swear. He's going to live on the streets if he keeps skipping classes."

Flint glared. "You two aren't ones to talk, remember?"

"Err, good point."

Wigglytuff crossed his arms. "Hey, we at least take notes. We just forgot about our papers. Wes is just skimming on by because of you."

"True," Flint muttered.

"He'd be loss without you. He should follow in your example and start going to school before he winds up dead."

Flint frowned unsurely. "I guess…"

"Anyway, we'll see you later."

"And thanks a bunch!" The duo raced off to their next class.

Flint sighed and rubbed his head. "I mean, Wes isn't that bad. He's just a little—"

Right as he turned around, something black crashed into him and sent his papers scattering through the air. Flint fell onto his back, eyes spinning, then pulled himself together to frantically grab his papers.

"Anyone get the number of that ship…"

Flint's eyes widened, then he sighed in annoyance. Of course.

"Ugh, Wes!"

Flint set his apple core down and sighed. "I guess, my whole life, Wes and I were at odds with each other, even if we didn't know it."

"Hmm," Vernon hummed, drumming his fingers in his lap. "Brothers at odds with each other, yet still remaining cordial and loving. How strange."

Flint closed his eyes. "I always look back on my years and realize high school was the worst time of my life. Things weren't the same when our dad died." Flint clutched his shirt. "I miss him a lot. I never stopped thinking about him. He was my inspiration to explore history, so…" Tears dripped from Flint's closed eyes. "I just…haven't had the strength to trust my own abilities."

Vernon narrowed his eyes. "And that injury you sustain serves as a permanent reminder."

"My fight with Zaros broke what little barriers I had left." Flint sighed. "I just can't fight anymore. I'm never going to keep up with the others, and I'm never going to improve. I'm just…mediocre."

"A harsh light to cast down on yourself," Vernon stated. "Though, perhaps your brother felt something similar during his own period of self-loathing."

"I guess."

"Flint Ravenfield, what I see is a family deeply affected by the death of a great man admired by many. This journey has tested both of you on strength of will. Perhaps you've finally reached the end of that strength."

Flint wiped his eyes. "I don't want to let them down, but what other choice do I have?"

"Then you should go home."

Flint looked at him. "You really think so?"

Vernon shrugged. "If you say you can't fight, there's no use prolonging the decision. Your team might appreciate your moral support, though, when our battle is officially held."

Flint frowned. "I guess that wouldn't hurt."

"Flint, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever acted without thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

Vernon smiled. "You say you lack confidence, but it's often disguised in actions we perform via second nature. Though it may sound like foolish instinct, there's something remarkably brave about putting the lives of others above yours." He patted Flint's back. "I've heard stories about you from the other mages. You have qualities your friends lack in."

"Like what?"

"Your undeniable selflessness, your desire to uncover the truth, and protective instincts. You all serve a role in your team. You, my friend, are their shield."

Flint blinked. "Their shield?"

"You protect them. Even if you're scared, you risk everything to protect the ones you love."

Taking an arrow for Gwyn.

"Even going as far as saving a complete stranger."

Rescuing Ambrosine from drowning in the Water Temple.

"Manifested through your very soul."

Flint lifted his paw. His Guardian's fist flickered briefly, overlapping with his paw. Flint curled his paw, rubbing the pads. "Their shield."

"They've always relied on you, whether you notice or not. You keep them safe. Even if you're scared, your desire to keep everyone you love safe drives you to face those fears head on. Courage isn't the lack of fear, it's the ability to conquer your fears and face them." Vernon smiled. "They never had to say anything to tell you how important you are. It's only natural."

Flint narrowed his eyes. "But am I really that important to them?"

"That's not for me to decide." Vernon stood up and grabbed his staff. "You are the master of your own destiny. Will you let the fear of failure weigh you down? Will you fear a superior looking down on you and calling you worthless? Or—" Vernon pointed his staff at Flint. "—will you come to terms with your weaknesses and conquer them?"

Flint stared vacantly at the ground below, no longer fazed by the height. His throat constricted with tension. He lightly dug his claws into the tree bark, flexing his digits.

"I won't stop you from leaving." Flint looked up as Vernon summoned the hand-like branch and stepped on. "If you feel this is what's best for the success of your friends, I won't stop you. I only ask you take time to self-reflect, and ask yourself if you truly want this."

Flint closed his eyes, sighed through his nose, and followed Vernon onto the branch hand. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."