ACT ONE - IMMOLATION

Chapter 11 - The Price of Freedom

According to 'Types and Classification - Know Your Pokémon!', the official textbook mandated by the Pokémon Trainer Certification Authority, pokémon are classified into two main categories— those that can be sorted according to physiological differences, and those that are sorted according to elemental affinities. Of the former, there exist five major subdivisions— steel, rock, flying, poison, and bug. Apart from the last one, every single category could be generalized as a modification of the body to include elements of their typing.

Physiological differences in steel-types were almost always expressed as body armor, granting them incredible defense and bulk which usually came at the expense of speed. Rock-types, on the other hand, covered a whole spectrum of pokémon, with some being entirely made up of rock, to others with external or internal rock-based structures.

Flying-types were similarly classified because their body morphology allowed flight, most of the time through wings. Poison-types too were easily described— pokémon that secreted poison, toxins, and venom of different kinds, usually through specific glands or organs present in their body.

It was the fifth archetype— the bug-type —that was considered to be the most interesting, at least from a researcher's point-of-view.

Unlike the rest, bug-types did not have any form of protrusions, either for offense or defense. Instead, what made bugs unique, was their ability for constant innate metamorphosis as well as their development of an exoskeleton, though there were several viewpoints about the latter.

If one was to look at the standard bug move-pool, one would find that bugs tended to use their bodies, morphing them constantly, to survive. A bug was able to use its exoskeleton to create weapons to protect its frail body. The more common examples of this would be the use of scythes for scyther, horns for pinsir, and stingers for beedrill.

Furthermore, bugs were easily able to metamorphose their body parts and convert them into explosive powders and poisons, allowing them to hurt the opponent or provide the needed destruction to flee. This theory also explained why bugs were so easily vulnerable to fire since flames tended to have an adverse effect on their constantly changing physiology, which more often than not, contained inflammable substances.

Another interesting thing to note was that bugs tended to have faster responses than most other types. Their frail bodies were usually augmented with heightened perceptions which usually expressed itself in the form of a hypersensitive sense of smell, though certain bugs have subcutaneous respiration so their sense of touch is just as perceptive.

Most bugs, in their infancy, were extremely weakened, and essentially served as prey to other species. A statistical survey showed that only 2 out of every 100 stage-one bugs evolved to stage-2, and 1 out of every 20 of them evolved further to stage-3. It was only their massive reproduction rates that kept the bug-types from being classified as endangered.

Having to work on a ranch with over one-third of the area covered in forestland had blessed Red with an enormous exposure to bug-types. Come to think of it, it was almost fascinating that while he wanted to become a powerful dragon-tamer, it was his nigh encyclopedic knowledge of bug-types that surpassed any other. It was what had helped him capture the thief— an unruly scyther, who was currently sprawled on the ground, convulsing in pain and fury.

"What's wrong with it? Is it in pain?" Misty asked, walking up to him. Fun fact— Misty Waterflower had no issues standing up to large predators, even if they were bugs. She could stand and glare at the fallen scyther, no problem. The majority of her phobia seemed to be limited to the tiny, creepy, crawling bugs that roamed the forest floor.

Bugs like weedle and caterpie.

Not that he minded. In fact, he was pretty happy that he only had to deal with just the scyther screeching out.

He looked towards Misty who was thankfully being quiet at the moment. Then he looked back to the scyther who was screeching his head off.

He sighed.

Now there are two of them.

Meanwhile, Mawile kept a watchful gaze on her trainer from her comfortable place amidst the tree leaves. The little rucksack of leaves and soft bark made a rather comfy bed for her to slack a little.

"There is nothing wrong with it, well, in terms of pain," Red went on, in a tone that Mawile had come to associate with his 'teaching voice'. That or when he was feeling particularly condescending.

"Bugs have incredible sensory perception, especially when it comes to their sense of smell. That's why bug-repellents are so effective. They target the bug's olfactory senses, and trigger a nasty response,"— The teen pointed towards the sneezing scyther —" and keeps them off the grounds. Standard bug-repels contain a hundred and fifty sprays, one spray for every hour. That," he pointed at the scyther again, "is the result of a hundred and fifty sprays, acting all at once, on our unfortunate guest."

It was official, Mawile decided. Red was scary. Mawile felt like she needed to up her game. Or else, she'd never retain her control over her trainer.

Her steel jaw shook agreeably.

"Is it going to be alright?" Misty asked. Mawile looked at her, blinking in surprise. She'd never have pegged the orangette as capable of feeling sorry for anything save her precious water-types and Shellder.

…

Which was also a water-type. Never mind.

The point was, she never pegged Misty as someone that could empathize with a bug of all things. Not with the way she was mortally afraid of—

"Well, Scyther don't crawl or anything, right?" Misty asked carefully, treading towards the half-conscious Scyther, who had stopped convulsing and was swiftly losing consciousness.

—Point proven.

'It won't." Red replied confidently. "Now all we need to do is bind it. I can't allow it to run away, especially after all of this. When it wakes up, we'll get our answers to why it was stealing our food."

Mawile tilted her head. Wasn't Red going to catch it? She thought trainers were all about catching pokémon.

"Why don't you just catch it?" Misty asked.

It was frustrating to admit, but even Misty had her uses. Really, why couldn't humans evolve a little? She wasn't asking for much, just enough for Red to be able to understand her native tongue.

Perhaps I should try catching a psychic-type next time? Catching pokémon is… fun. I can see why the craze exists.

"Because catching it means that it will be unbound the moment I release it out of its pokéball Free to escape. And more importantly, free to attack us."

"Red?" Misty retorted, slightly taken aback at his forceful demeanor. "Don't you think you're being a little… too paranoid about it? It's just one pokémon."

Red blinked. Then, he blinked again. "Excuse me? Just one pokémon? This is a freaking Scyther. It's literally one of the fastest things you'll ever find in Kanto. You'd have better chances of escaping from a herd of tauros."

"Now you're just being too—"

"Misty, this creature can kill me, Mawile and yourself in the blink of an eye. Scyther are just that fast. Do you even understand what's going on? We have a scyther, about to be trapped. The same scyther, whom I might add, we hit with two bug-repels, directly on its face. Either we leave the forest right now, and hope the scyther doesn't ever find us, or—"

"Or?"

Red stayed silent for a while. "Or we try and figure out what it wants, and why it was stealing our food. We'll figure out what to do from there."

Growlithe had arrived at a conclusion. Red was crazy.

Ever since the moment he had woken up, the human had been throwing curve-balls in his direction, confusing the hell out of him.

The casual indifference should have been the first sign. There he was, an acid-belching creature that could liquefy all of Red's organs with a single attack. Growlithe's only solace was that Red considered him a normal growlithe, a commonplace creature in the world outside the forest, so much so, that most trainers hardly bothered with ever catching one.

It made him wonder. Was it because the growlithe line was weak, and if so, did that mean that despite his strange powers, he was weaker than the rest? But then, why would the men-in-white keep him bound like that? Was it only for those… experiments? Were they trying to figure out a way to make him stronger? They kept on calling him a 'success' over and over, so that had to mean that he was special.

Right?

Back at the prison, none save him were able to belch out acid, so perhaps he was a success? A success on a comparative basis? He wasn't clear on how much his specialty improved his chances of survival in the world outside of the forest. The warehouse was in the past, and he had gained his freedom. The question was—

Will I be able to survive on my own, even if I manage to get out?

Growlithe was pragmatic, but the same pragmatism told him that he was nowhere as fast as the scyther who had tried to steal food from the humans. In fact, Growlithe was sure he hadn't even seen the scyther appearing, and yet, Red had been able to best it with his own cleverness and preparation. Growlithe didn't know how the human knew about the scyther's intentions, so he presumed that he simply did not have enough information.

Either way, the human was scary as hell. No doubt about that.

Growlithe considered his situation. The human—Red, was normally docile and simple enough to happily heal an injured pokémon without reservations. Personally, Growlithe would have called it being too naïve, but he really couldn't bring himself to dislike the human for it. Red had promised him that he'd be helping him get rid of the belt around his neck. And that was all there was to it. There had been no words about how growlithe would need to pay him back, or if Red even wanted anything in return. It was like the act of securing Growlithe's freedom didn't even matter to him.

Growlithe didn't know what to feel about that. A part of him felt his pride hurt, but he was used to that. There was no place for pride in the white-walled maze.

Perhaps if he knew just how special Growlithe was, the human would show the other side of his personality— the one that had just risen when he had boasted over his capture of the scyther. In fact, growlithe was almost sure that the human would capture the unfortunate bug-type, and enslave it for the rest of its natural life. The scyther's capture had almost made him stand up and run away, in fear that he had simply traded one evil human for another.

Then, he heard Red speak, and once again, it threw him out of the loop.

"Or we try and figure out what it wants, and why it was stealing our food. We'll figure out what to do from there."

See? Crazy. First, the human demonstrated an admirable cunning and preparation to capture his prey, and then, despite his rather… heavy-handed approach, he was completely okay with not catching it. From the way Red had described the scyther, it was powerful, and more importantly lethal, much like himself. A part of him had secretly wanted Red to capture the bug. If nothing else, it would at least give him an answer to Red's indifference, confirming Growlithe's assumption over the lack of interest in him.

But now? Now he wondered if this Red human suffered from some kind of multiple-personality disorder.

For the following hour, Growlithe had silently observed Red get nagged by the other orange-haired girl over the training of the little water-type they called a shellder. Growlithe hadn't seen one of those prior to this, so he assumed that was what the species was called, and by the looks of it, shellder were pretty docile. And useless.

He wondered why the two humans were so… enthusiastic about teaching it how to grow powerful and learn a new move. Perhaps the humans, being physiologically weak as they were, sympathized with other physiologically weak creatures like shellder? It would certainly explain why Red smothered the shellder with all of that attention.

Shellder was weak. The mawile, for all its deceptions, had a rather frail figure. Perhaps this was why it preferred to associate with the humans? But then, what about the other creature? Why would that giant, vicious metallic avian follow Red so willingly?

No, nothing really made sense. Perhaps this was all still some bizarre dream and he was still trapped inside the prison?

Growlithe shuddered at the thought.

"Trying to figure him out, are you?"

Growlithe was suddenly taken aback by the sudden intrusion. More importantly, it was the familiar voice that accompanied said intrusion that upped his paranoia by several levels. He managed to allow an acceptable amount of anger into his voice, as he softly growled…

"You…"

Mawile grinned. "Me."

"Why are you here? Have you come to attack me again?"

Mawile blinked. "Nope. Just casually wondering how long you are going to stare at my trainer."

"I'm not… staring. I'm observing."

"I should've known that you'd turn out to be a fascinating one," Mawile replied wistfully. "Though I'm yet to see any of the… special powers you boasted about the other day."

Growlithe took offense at that. "Why should I reveal my powers to someone who used trickery to catch me off-guard. Had it been a fair fight, I'd have burnt you alive."

Mawile grinned. "Well, that's hardly an incentive for me to play fair, is it?"

"But. You. Cheated."

Mawile pointed towards herself with a deadpan. "Deceiver."

Growlithe muttered something under his breath, before glancing back at the humans. "Why doesn't your trainer catch the bug? It looks powerful. It is certainly… fast."

Mawile had a strange smile on her face. "Why? Are you jealous? I'm sure Red will capture you if you ask nicely."

For the second time, Growlithe suppressed an urge to liquefy the creature by drowning her in acid. "I didn't escape from that prison to get enslaved by another human."

"Then why are you still here? Red has certainly not bound you in any way. And you are healed by now. I think."

And wasn't that a damn good question? Why didn't I leave?

The mawile certainly had a point, however much Growlithe wanted to deny it. There was nothing tying him there, and he was almost confident that Red wouldn't really stop him from leaving. In fact, he was unsure if Red even cared about his presence. All his life, he had lived as a captive, but had never been devoid of attention. And now, he found the lack of attention to his person strangely… humiliating. There was this burning urge to belch out some acid and attract attention back towards himself.

Instead, he glanced at the large avian who was circling around the humans from the sky. A distant observer would probably consider that a preparation for assault, but he knew better. The avian was maintaining a birds-eye-view on things, ready to swoop down the moment anything… sinister happened.

"Why does the bird follow him?" He asked, feeling slightly surprised at his own frankness.

Mawile glanced upwards at Skarmory and sighed. "To be honest, I don't know myself. Red… well, Red and I had a battle against a giant meanie of an ursaring. I crushed him of course."

"You don't need to lie.." Growlithe muttered, sparing her a side-glance. "Sneaky you may be, but you could hardly bring down an ursaring. I've seen how large and powerful they are."

"You mean more difficult than it was to put you down?" Mawile replied playfully, her cute charm up to maximum effect. "Yep, it was more difficult than that."

Growlithe ignored the provocative dig and spoke icely. "I was right. It seems you can only win through deception."

"Fair play is a privilege of the strong." Mawile retorted back, all signs of her playfulness vanishing at his statement. She turned towards Skarmory with a wistful expression. "As it stands, I defeated that ursaring and Red won her."

"Won?"

"Won," Mawile admitted. "Like a trophy."

Growlithe looked away. "I escaped out of that prison to live in a free world. Now it feels like I exchanged a small prison for a larger one."

"Pfft!" Mawile scoffed. "An idealist. How boring."

Growlithe glanced at her, meeting her eyes. "Are you defending what these humans have done to us? Capturing and experimenting upon us? Causing us pain?"

Mawile opened her mouth to speak, but Growlithe beat her to it, "I can understand that you are weak, and so you need to find other ways to survive. But look at that creature." He glanced at Skarmory who was soaring upwards now. "She's majestic and powerful. Should she decide to do so, she could slaughter us all. None of us, including me, would be able to fight back."

"And yet she follows a human," Mawile said challengingly. "She could have been given to any other trainer. The other humans might not have been like Red though. I wonder if she'd follow them around like she does with Red."

"Perhaps she's lost her confidence?"

Mawile gave him a deadpan stare. "She wants to be revered as king."

"A captive king?"

Mawile shrugged. "I'm not very much... acquainted with her past. Either way, I'm just happy she'd with us, even though she can be a bit overbearing."

Growlithe regarded her. For someone who claimed to be a deceiver, the mawile was being surprisingly honest. Of course, her current truthfulness was still up for debate. "You seem very… affectionate to your human."

"Red."

Growlithe grunted in affirmation.

"Well, Red is dopey, but he cares for me a lot. I told you, remember? He gets me poképuffs, and cuddles me a lot, and helps me get stronger. I'd never be able to beat that ursaring without all the things that Red's been teaching me. He's a bit of a doofus, and goes overboard from time to time, but I like him well enough."

"Strength in return for slavery." Growlithe scoffed.

"It is not. Slavery." Mawile gritted her teeth in exasperation. "Why doesn't your stupid dog-brain understand that? We're… we're partners. Red supports me and takes care of me. Even more than my own mother ever did. He gives me a lot more freedom than I had back at home. He makes me stronger, and not just me, but Skarmory, and even that mute little shit he's fussing over right now," she glared at him. "See that orangette? When she accuses me of something, Red defends me. That's not slavery."

Growlithe shrugged. "Gilded cages are still cages."

"They might be." Mawile nearly snarled, "but the world around us is a human world. You think you know better? Try surviving out there! You've only seen this forest, and whatever prison you're from. In the world out there, the humans will see you and find whatever makes you special," Mawile sneered at the last word. "And when they find you, they'll catch you. Even I could get the better of you. What makes you think the world outside will be any different?"

Growlithe growled at her harshness, wanting to shut her up for good. A tiny, vengeful part of him wanted to spit acid on her face. Feeling her vulnerable little face getting melted would probably help her understand her place in the world. It wouldn't make any of her words less true though. In fact, there was probably some shred of truth in them, which was why he didn't reply and instead turned to face the human.

Red was sitting several yards away, talking to the orange-head, almost oblivious to the shellder clamped on his hair.

Perhaps a change of approach is in order.

"Even if what you say might be true, I don't see why you're being this… forward with me. Your human— Red," he sneered the name out, "didn't even try to catch me. Are you here to make up for his shortcomings?"

Mawile tipped her head to the left, as if in thought. Then, a sly grin spread upon her lips. Naturally, it did nothing to set him at ease.

"Well, that is a definite possibility. My trainer cares for me, so is it not natural for me to care for him in return? We're partners, remember?"

Growlithe scoffed, not having anything to refute back in return. "What are you suggesting? That I should happily embrace this gilded cage and dance at his beck and call?"

"Well," Mawile's tone turned mischievous. "You did say that you escaped from a prison. Did you dance for your captors there?"

Growlithe growled at her provocation.

"Red cares for me. I grow stronger. I can see the world. I even get poképuffs."Mawile continued. "And you…."

Mawile paused and looked him in the eye.

"What is it that you want most?"

Meanwhile...

"Most elemental moves, are actually part of an extended move-chain, and they usually start from basic-tier moves."

Misty shook her head. "That's incorrect, or rather, inadequate. Firstly, it's not just about elemental moves. In theory, any move out there is a part of a move-chain," She paused for a second, "and before you ask, let me tell you that just because they are called basic-tier, doesn't mean any stage-1 pokémon can master it."

"On a comparative scale then," Red concluded, seeing his companion nod back. Briefly, he went through his own knowledge about the elemental types out there. By definition, there were six of them— fire, water, ice, electric, grass, and ground. While he made it a regular habit to keep himself updated on movesets in general, he had never really classified them into move-chains prior to this.

"Can you give me a basic example of this?"

Misty beamed. It felt good to be appreciated. Over the last two weeks, she had tried several times, unsuccessfully she might add, to gain an upper hand over their working equation. Initially, she had thought him to be just another trainer, but his encyclopedic knowledge about bug-types, in general, had brought her actions to a screeching halt. Finally, she was free to show off a little, and that felt wonderful.

"Sure," she answered, "take Water Gun for example. A basic-tier move. Any decent water-type is able to learn something that basic by themselves, and often within three to six months of their birth."

Misty sighed as she saw Red's eyes wander to the water-type currently chewing on his hair.

"…well, shellder are, to be honest, not considered in that category. Magikarp, psyduck and slowpoke are also similar in that respect. On the contrary, their evolved forms are almost instinctively able to use high-tier water moves.."

"I see," Red muttered.

Misty continued. "With practice, the power behind Water Gun can slowly be increased, usually in proportion to the pokémon's own physical development. The actual interesting part though is about the Stadtfeld phenomenon."

"Stad— what?"

Misty giggled at that. "Stadtfeld. It is a calculated value describing the factors that determine the move set. It has a scale that sets a value to every move, and makes it easy to identify and distinguish the different move sets, and allows better creation of independent, and mutated moves. Basically, it allows for easy creation of move-tutors."

Red blinked. "Come again?"

Misty stared at him with a half-despondent expression. "Basically, it allows you to understand the power requirements associated with a particular move. Something like Water Gun ranges from 10 to 40. In case you are wondering, an Ember attack also has the same range."

"So, they are equal," Red concluded.

Misty smiled. Her acquaintance-turned-friend had just made the same presumption that she herself had made back when she had been taught the lesson for the first time. "No. It simply means that the power requirements needed to produce a Water gun, and Ember, are equal. It does not mean that the two attacks are equal in power, nor suggest that they will nullify each other."

"Oh," Red muttered. "That is interesting."

Misty gave him a wry grin. "Most people tend to misunderstand it and think that an attack of higher Stadtfeld value should overpower another. Anyway, with enough training, a pokémon is capable of raising the Stadtfeld value of Water Gun past 60, and that is when it gets interesting."

Red narrowed his eyes. "I thought you said that the range was between—"

"10 and 40, I know," Misty nearly snapped at the interruption. "40 to 60 can be considered… a transition, if you will."

"A transition?" He questioned? "So Hydro—"

"It becomes Hydro Pump." Misty declared, unwilling to let him finish her statement. " And its Stadtfeld range is from 60 to 110. It might go a little higher than that, but a Hydro Pump on that level is enough to submerge an entire stadium. Also, the after-effects of using a Hydro Pump of 120 or higher would be serious, and the user could be damaged for life."

"You listening?"

"Huh? Yeah, just thinking about it. So, the range is not just an indicator of the power usage, it also indicates if the pokémon itself is capable of using a particular move or not. Shellder cannot utilize Water Gun, so if it is forced to use, say, a Hydro Pump, through a TM, it might cause serious injuries."

Misty blinked. She had certainly not expected him to derive that corollary so quickly.

How… annoying.

"Misty?"

"Sorry." Misty shook off her internal musings. "Lady Lorelei tells us, that upon shifting from a lower Stadtfeld range to a higher one— Water Gun to Hydro Pump, for instance, something inherently changes inside the pokémon, causing a subtle yet fundamental change to its body physiology. You'll find that while using Hydro Pump for the first couple of times might be difficult, it will get easier with successive attempts."

"But couldn't that simply be that the pokémon is trying to figure out how to do it the correct way?" Red questioned. "When I first gave Mawile the TM for Double team, it took a while for her to create four clones. After some practice, she was able to make six to eight clones with ease."

Seriously, why is he even a trainer? Papa would have put him with the researcher team immediately.

"Because," Misty said slowly, "unlike learning a basic move through a TM where you simply acquire the muscle memory for the move, learning intermediate or elite-tier moves usually require changes in body physiology. The first couple of attempts take a while because your body is adjusting to the change in its structure. As soon as you get acquainted with your modified form, you can use it at full power," she paused, "but yes, I can see why both look similar to an untrained eye."

"Is that why one cannot simply learn powerful moves through TMs from the very start?"

"Yes, that is exactly why. If your body is not… specialized to use a move, and you try to mimic a move based on the TM-muscle memory, you can severely injure, and even cripple yourself."

"Right."

"Anyway," Misty sat up a little straighter. "That is exactly how move chains are formed. You might have heard about another basic-tier move called Bubble?"

"The use of air-filled bubbles in mass droves?"

"The very same. Bubble has a Stadtfeld range of 10 to 20. Rather short, I know. Most water-types can actually learn Bubble Beam directly, as long as they are able to comprehend the concept behind Bubble first. Bubble Beam has a range of 20 to 60. At its limit, a Bubble Beam is a dangerous move to be used against anything with a fleshy body, especially when used in combination with something like Scald."

"Never heard of that one," Red muttered. "I'll check it out."

Misty ignored that, not wanting to digress again. "Several moves are created by manipulating the factor variables, though it is mostly pressure and temperature as far as water-type moves are considered. After mastering Bubble Beam, the next level is performing the exact opposite. Instead of air inside a water-bubble, the objective is to create a sphere of highly compressed water, inside an air bubble. It is called—"

"Water pulse." Red finished for her. "I know that one. One of the coolest water-type attacks I've ever seen."

Misty almost chuckled at the child-like excitement in his voice. It was such a shift from the semi-stoic Red that she saw every now and then. It made her a little curious. Why was an average fourteen-year-old like that? She was sixteen, bordering on seventeen, and she still had difficulties not wearing her heart on her sleeve. Red though, it was almost like watching a grown-up individual dealing with things, especially with the efficiency with which he had caught the bugs for her. His methods screaming experienced to anyone with the eyes to see it. Even the ruthless efficiency with which he had taken the scyther down spoke of it, considering the casual manner in which he had employed unconventional approaches to a potentially wild situation. It was almost like watching a—

"Misty?"

"Huh? Right, where was I?"

Red arched an eyebrow. "We were talking about Water Pulse."

"Uh… yeah, about that. So, conjuring a full-fledged Water Pulse is considered proof of mastery of water-pressure manipulation, since even the slightest disbalance will cause a Water Pulse to go out of control and erupt in the caster's hands. There's a reason it's considered an elite-tier move you know."

'Bubble, Bubble Beam and then Water Pulse," Red mused, "that makes a complete move-chain then?"

"In essence yes, though it is not uncommon for elite-trainers to combine two final-tier moves into something greater. In fact, Lady Lorelei tells us that such composite moves often have entire move chains created for them."

Misty looked distinctly pleased with the slightly lost look on Red's face.

For the first time in a long while, Red was feeling out of his depth. He was trying to figure out how to teach some basic moves to Shellder, and trying to increase Mawile's versatility. Skarmory was powerful, but he hadn't yet come to a definite conclusion in regards to her abilities, and was still in the experimental phase of her training. The entire experience at the Trainer Square, defeating one opponent after another, had given him a confidence boost. Winning a skarmory of all things had simply been the icing on the cake.

Now though… Upon hearing about the moves from a technical perspective, he had a sudden realization of just how tiny, how insignificant he and his team truly were. Here he was, a mere rookie, muddling his way through experiments with his limited knowledge. His team was yet to master a single of these move-chains, and yet, there were dozens of elite-tier trainers out there, creating new move-chains out of high-tier natural moves. And sitting there, above all of them, like a shining beacon, untouched by all except the highest of the elite, was the Champion.

And he had boasted about beating 'the Champion' over and over, back in school. No wonder everyone had laughed at him.

"Red?"

His contemplations were subdued down at Misty's curious tone. "Sorry, I was just wondering…" He felt his thoughts get muddy, unsure of what it was he truly wanted to ask the girl. "Can you tell me about some of these… composite moves?"

"Well, there's Aqua Jet for one, but it is a single composite move with no further derivations. Though I believe there is a move-tutor called Aqua Tail which had similar requirements and follows a similar procedure, though it is concentrated over the tail," she paused, "come to think of it, it should be easier to perform than a full-body Aqua Jet, and much less effective. It doesn't require much pressure manipulation either."

"Why would you intentionally create a move that is less effective than an existing original?"

"Good question." Misty nodded in approval. "That's because, at the elite-level and higher, there are several components that need attention while creating a move. Effectiveness and strength are important factors, but powerful moves also come with large power and stamina consumption. A trained wartortle can probably use a Hydro Pump attack twice before getting exhausted, but the same pokémon can throw several dozens of Water Guns and still retain enough stamina to keep going. A one-hit kill-off move that has a one-time-use is cool, but a slightly less effective move that can be used multiple times is cooler."

"I… think I get it," Red muttered. He was slowly getting the hang of it. "But what about the entire thing about combining two final-tier moves into something else, that you mentioned?"

"Ah, that one." Misty looked at him wistfully. "There's only one that I can think of, as far as water-type is concerned. It's called Hydro Cannon."

"Fancy name." Red chuckled. "Let me guess, it sends multiple super-large Hydro Pumps in a single instance or something? Or compress them into a giant Water Pulse?"

Misty chortled at that. "No dummy. It's something completely different. Did I ever tell you about how my father became the Cerulean City gym leader?"

"Uhm… not that I remember."

Misty waved him off. "Did you know that before the establishment of Commerce Citadel, Cerulean was responsible for the production of electricity through its hydel-projects?"

"Of course," Red nodded. They had gone over that in school. Commerce Citadel was the newest establishment in Kanto. Built around twenty-eight years ago, on the plain land between the ever-busy Saffron, the commercial center Celadon, and within close reach of the Vermillion harbor, it was practically a sprawling estate around thermal and electromagnetic power plants. In fact, over eighty percent of the power requirements of the three cities, and some nearby towns were supplied by Citadel's power plants. It was also an abode for electric-types, which was the main reason trainers visited the place.

At his cue, Misty continued her story. "Some thirty-two years ago, there was a catastrophic attack on Cerulean City," Misty paused here for effect," More specifically, Zapdos appeared over Cerulean, bringing untold destruction. There are rumors that it was fighting something else, stopping it from hurting Kanto, though dad thinks the opposite might be true. He… doesn't like legendaries very much."

"Wait, a minute. Zapdos as in the legendary bird of lightning? Zapdos?"

"No, Zapdos my sister's pet politoed. The one she uses to create rainbows for her shows." Misty deadpanned.

Red rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, it was a disaster. Some of the hydel projects exploded, and the fire spread all over the city. One of my grandfather's oil-rigs was lost there too. Water-master Gregory, who was the Gym Leader of Cerulean, and my dad's teacher, made his Blastoise perform the move." Misty spoke almost reverentially.

"Hydro Cannon?" Red inquired.

Misty motioned her head. "It's not exactly clear what or how that Blastoise did what it did, but from what my dad told me, it shot a Water Pulse-like orb from its cannon into the sky. And then something amazing happened."

"And then?" Red asked. Clearly, Misty was enjoying being put in the teaching role, with all this dramatic pausing.

"And then, the water pulse began to spread out unilaterally until it was over several dozen acres in diameter. It held for a single second, before it erupted, like a giant hole in the sky. And from within, water came gushing down, submerging half the city, and extinguishing the flames. It was like the sky had torn itself had been torn apart, and the clouds wanted the sea to reclaim the land. To sink it beneath like it was once, eons ago."

Even from the awe in her voice, Red mused that it must have been something otherworldly to watch. His mind though, was running ahead, trying to fathom ways in which something like that could possibly have happened. His years at the ranch— working with the professor —had taught him that everything had a reason. An explanation. Just because one did not know the answer didn't mean that there wasn't one.

And the problem here was glaringly huge.

"A water attack that was able to submerge half the city?" He asked, his tone was filled with curiosity and skepticism, "I'm not really trying to call it crazy, but no Blastoise could have done that. I mean, at maximum power, a powerful Blastoise's Hydro Pump can flood a small lake. But to submerge a city?"

"I'm not making it up." Misty looked affronted, instantly going on the defensive.

Red raised his palms in surrender. "I'm not accusing you of that either, but from what the old man tells me, pokémon have something inside their body. It is from that… thing, that it is able to create elemental attacks."

"Huh?" Misty crooked her head. "What do you mean?"

Red frowned, deciding to use the man's original description. "Like that growlithe over there. It's a fire-type, so it has something called an Inner Flame, inside it. When it uses an Ember attack, it uses the inner-flame to generate fire. The old man told me that inner-flame is almost like the soul or something like that. He told me that the stronger a pokémon got, the larger his inner-flame would grow, and by extension, the more powerful attacks it can use."

He conveniently ignored the part of his mind whispering about how the professor had used the above example as an analogy because Red had been too young to understand the technical details.

"That sounds like a rudimentary theory at best, taught to beginners. It's not something I'd expect a man like Oak to believe in."

Red shrugged. "Either way, from what I understand, the power for an attack comes from within. But no blastoise has that kind of power inside them. What you are describing—"

"I know what you are trying to say." Misty interrupted. "I asked myself something similar. All my dad told me, was that the energy for such attacks came from somewhere else. Information like that is heavily restricted by the League.."

"Is your dad—?"

"Able to use something on that scale?" Misty finished for him. "Not a chance. Dad says that people who get to know anything on that scale get tied to the League and the bureaucracy. Dad loves his personal freedom too much to lose it all to learn a single move, even if it is as mind-boggling as that."

"What happened to his teacher?"

"Master Gregory? He died of a... heart attack, I think. That blastoise's still there though, at the gym, though it mostly keeps to itself. Unless something catastrophic happens, it'd probably stay that way."

"Maybe… I mean, can I see that blastoise when I go to Cerulean City?"

Misty smirked. "You can with the right connections. As it is, I'm traveling to Cerulean myself. I don't think after all of this, I'll be returning to school directly. We can teleport from Pewter City together. I have some discount coupons saved so feel free to use one then."

Red looked slightly flustered at the offer. "Thanks, but I kind of wanted to travel through Mt. Moon. So teleporting is not an option. Also, there is the Pewter Gym to be considered, and the growlithe to be freed and everything."

"I hope you didn't presume that I'd abandon the unfortunate creature just like that." Misty looked affronted. "I meant to take the teleport service after you're done. We've spent weeks inside this forest. An extra day or two doesn't even matter. But Mt. Moon? Why would anyone want to go through that wretched place?"

Red chuckled at her constipated expression. "First bugs, now mountains. You should really go and live in Hoenn, or Kalos."

Misty sniffed and returned an imperious stare. "I should inform you that I intend to do that, as soon as I acquire my degree. Hoenn, to be specific. It is really beautiful, and the hot springs are said to be the best in the world. Hoenn is a much better choice than these dire forestlands of Kanto."

"Hey!" Red snapped good-naturedly. "Kanto is cool. I love the mountains and the forests. Did you know that the passages through Mt. Moon keep changing because of internal factors over twice a month? Every time you cross it, it is a unique experience."

"Whatever. Floundering my way beneath layers of mud and soil does not suit me." Misty replied snobbishly, though it was clear that she was just teasing. "Ask for me when you get to Cerulean. Perhaps during your stay there, I can try to steal your attraction away form the grasslands you seem to adore and show you a little bit of the modern city life."

"Sure." Red drawled. While he had traveled to Viridian, he had to admit that it was, after all was said and done, more of a town than a metropolis like Cerulean. In fact, half the population back at Pallet considered Cerulean to be a mix of beach resorts and shopping districts. Almost exotic, compared to the simplicity of Pallet.

"Either way, it should be some time before I reach there. Pewter is supposed to be huge, and there are all kinds of rock-types in the mountains surrounding it. Even if scyther turns out to be… manageable, it'd be vulnerable to rock-types, and I need something to help me defeat Brock in a 3 on 3 match."

"A 3 on 3?" Misty asked. "You don't want a rookie handicap?"

Red shook his head. Rookie handicaps were part of the gym rules and regulations. A rookie trainer with two capable pokémon or less was able to challenge a gym leader to a 1 on 1 match. It allowed the trainer to acquire a gym badge as well as ensure that his pokémon didn't die in the process. But choosing a 3 on 3 simply meant getting past the handicap, and should the trainer be able to win it, he'd be placed at a high-rookie or low-intermediate level, depending upon his performance.

"I don't think choosing the handicap would be a good idea. It might facilitate my getting the badge, but it'd mean nothing. Not after I've fought so many trainers, and gotten this far."

Misty sniffed. "Boys."

When Scyther finally gained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the scent of cooked meat in the air.

Not good. My nose burns. This is going to be a pain until it heals. Insufferable creatures these humans.

He considered his situation. There were three ropes, bound to his form. The first one was on his back, tying his arms together, and high enough to prevent any accidental contact with his scythes. The second one was below his knees, binding his feet together. The third was fastened over his chest, tying his wing blades to his back, preventing all chances of flight. This was hardly his first encounter with humans— Scyther sneered at the thought —but they usually preferred to use those heinous devices called pokéballs to capture instead. This was the first time Scyther had seen someone use a technique so… unconventional, and yet effective.

...Troublesome.

He stayed in that position, unmoving for several minutes. Presently, he was lying face-first on the ground. If he tried to roll over, he'd be in an even more vulnerable position, with the scythes trapped between himself and the ground. At least they were currently between himself and anything that might try to attack him from above. But more importantly, he could see the humans in the corner of his eye, laughing and chattering less than a half a dozen yards away. Movement might attract their attention.

Not very helpful. But if I manage to roll over, I might be able to cut through one of the bindings. Worth a try?

Unlike the other bugs, Scyther hadn't been born in the expansive forestland that was the Viridian Forest. Instead, his true home was far, far away. He had been caught as a youngling, trying to learn the ropes from his parents back then. He still remembered that day, and quite vividly too. A nuzleaf had been taunting him, over and over again. Scyther, young and ignorant, had given in to his inhibitions, and leaped after him, trying to tear the grass-type to pieces and feed on it.

It had been a trap. A trap, devised by a human, to catch him off-guard.

He had been surrounded by a magmar and the nuzleaf. His rage had gotten the better of him, and he had vehemently attacked, but the magmar had been too powerful. It had charred his wings, and bruised his feet, making it incredibly difficult to move. The human, who had been issuing orders from afar, had laughed and congratulated himself over the effectiveness of his strategy and captured Scyther inside the pokéball.

That was over a year ago.

The human, Paul, had been a hard taskmaster. Initially, Scyther had ignored him, but Paul was stubborn. He was concerned with just one thing—to grow stronger than his own brother Reggie, and for some reason, he thought that the best way to do so was to put his team through hellish training. Scyther had resented it at first, though he had gotten used to it when he saw the results when facing other challengers. He had fought off opponents they met during their travels, fought those monstrosities kept by gym-leaders and finally… he had faced the League.

And that was where he had learned humiliation.

It had been a powerful blaziken, and despite his speed, prowess, and skill— developed through months of rigorous training —Scyther had been forced down to the ground. His face disfigured, his scythe fractured, and covered in burns, he had been sent reeling into the dust.

His somewhat normal life had come to a screeching halt after that.

Scyther shook himself out of his reverie. If Paul were to look at him now, he'd probably sneer and point out that he deserved to be thrown away. All those days and months of diligent training, all those bruises he had acquired, all those battles he had won, and all those humiliating defeats he had suffered…

And for what?

Here he was, tied and bound— rendered helpless by yet another human.

Come to think of it, it wasn't like his skills were inferior. No, his instincts were top-notch, and despite the effect of bug-repel, he had been able to slice through the incoming canister with a single slice. And that had been his undoing.

From his own experiences, trainers almost never used anything else but their pokéballs to capturing wild pokémon. Scyther had presumed this group of humans was something similar and had acted under that assumption. An entire year of surviving on cooked food had ruined Scyther's ability to appreciate the tasteless insects of the forest, and it was the smell of a cooked meal that had attracted him to the current team of human trainers.

For the first couple of days, he had simply used his speed to snatch the food when they weren't looking— a habit stemmed out of his love for cooked steak. The humans were simpletons and had simply fallen for his distractions. The buzzing technique that Paul had made him learn— Bug Buzz, it was called —had proved especially useful in that regard. Scyther had simply not thought that the trainer would think of something this… unconventional. Besides, he had enough experience with humans to disdain them. As far as he was concerned, he was stronger, and therefore, it was his right to steal it. Only he who is strong may do what he wishes, uncontested, for he—

Great. Now I'm quoting him too.

From what he could see, there were at least four pokémon present with his capturer. He could recognize the croconaw from the distance as well as the growlithe, but the rest were unknown to him. That little ivory-ish creature seemed frail, and if his memory served him well, it used the leaf on the back of its head to attack. Nothing particularly powerful, or to be considered as an immediate threat. There was a tiny purplish shell-thing too, but it seemed just as useless as the ivory-ish creature. That left the steel avian, and the only danger as far as Scyther was concerned.

He had enough battle experience to recognize steel when he saw it, and that bird was enveloped with it. A metallic avian was the last thing he wanted to fight since his scythes would be damn near useless. He could probably use Metal Claw, but he wasn't sure if it would penetrate the armor of a true steel-type. He had broken his scythes over a larion that Paul made him battle once. Not an experience he was looking forward to repeating.

Perhaps he could take advantage of his speed and score hits by identifying chinks in its armor. Though, considering his current position, any attempt to try to attack the bird would end up with him becoming a bloody mess upon the ground.

Challenging it was not an option. In fact, the best possible thing to do in his current scenario was to tear through the bindings and escape. Later, he could catch the humans off-guard and slice through their throats for good. He had heard the male boasting about how he had brought Scyther down using his trap, something that had conjured up images of Paul inside his mind. In fact, he couldn't help but relate the male with Paul on various levels. Just like Paul, he had a group of henchmen at his command. Just like Paul, he had a powerful pokémon to put Scyther down. It had been the magmar back, and now, it was this steel avian. And just like Paul, this trainer would probably call his team incompetent when they lost and then throw them away, like yesterday's trash. As if they didn't even matter.

And now he was thinking about Paul all over again. Perhaps he really was just as weak as Paul said he was.

"Mawa— wile!"

Scyther stilled, hearing the ivory-ish creature call out to its trainer. Apparently, it had seen him moving and had just informed the human about it. Scyther rolled over, doing his best to rub the ropes against the grassy floor. He had to do something, and he had to do it now.

"So, you're the one who's been stealing from us," Red muttered audibly, as he walked towards the bound scyther. "Trying to get out will be futile. It's a constrictor knot— something that gets tighter every time you try to push your arms out."

Scyther screeched in defiance, though he didn't exactly try to pull its scythes out. The human maintained a safe distance from him, obviously not willing to test his luck.

"You don't get to play the victim card, especially considering that you've stolen our food, and forced me and my team to eat subpar meals as a result."

Scyther looked away. It had just been so tempting. It had been a long time since he had had a cooked meal.

"Now while I cannot claim to understand what you have to say about it, Mawile or Skarmory certainly can. I will leave it to them to listen to why a wild one such as you were stealing our food. It's not like the forest is devoid of food as it is."

Despite his disdain, Scyther agreed that the human was correct, no matter how… ruthless he sounded. Despite the massive spread of the Viridian forestland, the most dangerous bug around there were probably pinsir. Beedril were powerful and held strength in numbers, but even their stingers fell short when it came to fighting off the steel horns and monstrous strength boosted by the pinsir population.

Scyther's unwanted presence had disrupted the status quo of the Viridian forest. Apparently, there were no others of his kind in the entire forestland, and the pinsir had claimed all the best hunting-grounds. The addition of a lone scyther had not been taken nicely and had resulted in short but periodic skirmishes between himself and them. It had been annoying, but at least his speed and his skill from the gruesome training over the past year had prevented him from being overwhelmed by the pinsir herd. They weren't exactly able to chase him should he choose to flee.

The feelings of disdain, the trauma of being abandoned like that, the hurtful words of the human he had trusted with everything had filled Scyther up with rage. Having to return to the wild, only in a distant land amidst strangers had made it worse. Add to that the smell of nice, cooked food…

"Mawawa!" Mawile barked.

"Mawile," Red cut her off in a softer tone, before turning to the scyther. "Look, if it is just cooked food that you want, we'd have no issue sharing it with you. But if you think you can just steal what's ours and think there will be no repercussions, then you're up for something else."

Scyther sneered. If this trainer was thinking that he'd be able to break his fortitude through trash-talk, he was up for a massive disappointment.

"I'll let Mawile handle the rest," Red added, "but before that, here is an offer. If cooked food is what you want to eat all day, join me, be my pokémon and work as a part of my team. You'd be taken care of, and I'll teach you how to grow stronger, if that's what interests you."

Scyther would have rolled his eyes if he could. Sure, humans knew a lot about getting stronger. Paul had been all about strengthening one's strengths, and Scyther had been inculcated with those TMs— thrice. He was already strong, and if not for these ropes, he would—

"And if I find out that you're intending to cause me and my friends harm because I bound you or any such nonsense, then I'll store you in a pokéball. You might think you're too good for me and my team to handle, but we'll beat you down. And then, I'll hand you over to the Rangers on the other side of the forest and they'll have you transferred to the Reserve with other rogue pokémon."

He ignored the lethal glare that the scyther sent back to him in return. "That was all, and now is your chance. So, talk."

In a different part of Viridian Forest...

"Honestly, I don't even see any point in continuing this pointless search. The forest is huge, and we've been traveling for over a day now. The growlithe has' probably escaped by now."

Travers shot a dry stare at his compatriot. "That is because if we are unsuccessful, they're going to have our hide. Didn't you hear what the Doc said? The warehouse had the first three successful experiments of Dr. Namba's project, under Admin Proton's direct supervision."

The other man paled, his lips trembling as he tried to digest the information. "Pr—proton?"

"Proton," Travers confirmed. For a significant majority of the Rocket grunts, the name Proton was synonymous with the devil. Notorious for his heavy-handed and ruthless approach to situations, Proton was called in as a last resort— not for damage control, but to ensure that the enemy were equally damaged. Like Cassidy loved to say— 'Proton is the equivalent to a rampaging dragon. He is not subtle. He is not nice. He is simply destruction on a primal level.'

The fact that he had two fucking hydreigon at his command spoke volumes in itself.

Travers had been present in the attack on Vermillion city some fifteen months ago. It had been a mission over acquiring some really sensitive shipment through the Vermillion harbor. Despite extensive planning and contingencies in place, the squad had found itself facing a group Ace trainers and Lt. Surge, right on the cargo deck, waiting for them to arrive. How the old veteran had found about the entire shipment, Travers would never know, but the situation had quickly devolved into a bloody mess. Over half of their team members had been severely injured, and several of their pokémon lost to Surge and his beast of an electivire. Even thinking about that mammoth made him shiver.

Then, Proton teleported in with his alakazam and joined the fight— if it could be called that. He had been in service to Team Rocket for two years now, though his skills mainly lay in covert activities than in direct combat. Before Proton's intervention, it had been a losing battle on the cargo ship, with the roof of the ship in tatters because of the high-powered attacks thrown around. By the time Proton and Surge had concluded their fight, the entire ship had detonated in a massive explosion, and several adjacent ships had been rendered unsalvageable. It had resulted in a draw, though it was obvious to any observer that Proton held a significant edge, and it had been his presence that allowed Travers and the rest to gather the cargo and teleport away.

Ever since that day, every single grunt and Executive went out of their way to avoid Proton if he was found to be in a bad mood. Then again, Proton was almost always in a bad mood. And the scary thing was, the more something angered him, the more focused he got, and the more lethal he became.

That was also the day that he had ended up as Proton's student. How that had happened was a mystery, but he had been studying under the man's tender mercies for the last six months. And if there was one thing he learned, it was that being a subject of his interest was never a good thing.

"Why would he be interested in a fucking growlithe?"

Travers sent a look of pity at his comrade. Meyers was pretty new, with less than six months of Grunt experience under his belt. Come to think of it, it was pretty surprising that someone so raw, was working for Dr. Namba, but then again, Meyers was pretty good at battling. Unlike Travers who relied extensively on traps and strategy, Meyers was a complete berserker, using raw firepower to bombard his opponent.

"It is a success from Project Nihilo. Is that good enough for you?"

Meyers grimaced. "Nihilo? I thought it was just a theoretical thing for the nerds at the Viridian base."

"It isn't," Travers shot back, "or well, it isn't ever since the doctor has taken over. We've got to capture this growlithe and bring it back alive. The doc clearly told us that under no conditions, can we allow it to go free. Worst case scenario, we put it down for good."

"Seems like a real special growlithe. I'd have expected something like this for a dragon or somethin'."

Travers sniffed. "The doctor played it down, but it seems like he wanted to surprise the Admin. He seems to think that the growlithe could become just as dangerous as one of Proton's hydreigon if not more."

"Bullshit." Meyers scoffed, "Are the both of us talking about the same pokémon? Those puppies need like three firestones at minimum to evolve, you know? Nobody wants an expensive fire-breathing bitch when you've got cooler things like a magmar or a charizard around."

Travers rolled his eyes. "That's out of our paygrade. Anyway, to answer your first question. I've already sent people out, flying above the forest and looking at the outskirts. As long as they don't see the growlithe leave, we operate under the assumption that it's still in the forest. We just need to keep searching."

"…sure." Meyers drawled.

Despite his obvious shortcomings as a human, Paul had been extremely diligent when it came to training and expected everyone to be at their best. In fact, he took it to the absolute extreme, considering that he himself trained beside his team, making the point that he expected nothing short of excellence from them in return. Also, unlike most other trainers, Paul had a singularly unique strategic point-of-view.

Strengthen your strengths. Use them to cover your weakness. A battle must be fought on your own terms, not another's.

Paul had encouraged Scyther to fight against opponents where his skill would be of some use. According to him, Scyther was a sharp sword. There was no point in fighting a club-user with a sword. He'd use a club for that. Let the sword be used where it is optimal. Anything else would be retrogressive.

And so, Scyther had his movepool chosen accordingly. Moves that worked best for him. Moves that he'd be uniquely suited to use. Moves that he'd be able to utilize better than anyone.

The constriction knots had been good, and had Scyther been a wild pokémon, he'd probably stay bound forever unless the human took pity on him, or he swallowed his pride. But not Scyther. He saw the human standing in front of him, gloating as he made his offer.

"That was all, and now is your chance. So… talk!"

I will. Scyther mentally sneered, as his wings glowed with a bright, silvery sheen. One moment they were tied to his back, and the next, they were glowing bright silver and not just that.

The wings began vibrating. At extreme speeds.

The human widened his eyes and acted immediately, out of instinct.

"GET AWAY!" He yelled and leaped backward. The creature he had introduced as a mawile, had not stopped to question her trainer's lead and jumped back as well— just in time to watch as the ropes snapped open as the wings were freed. The scyther was in the air, and though his arms were still tied.

Something to take care of. Scyther mused, lifting his arms upwards. The wings, enveloped in layers of steel energy, sheared through the ropes, bruising the skin around them. Scyther winced in pain, but pain was an old friend. Besides, bugs were quick to regenerate. Their ever-morphing bodies ensured that.

Without delay, he raised both scythes maliciously, sneering down at the human, who was staring at him from his half-crouched position, his mouth open in horror. Trust these humans to fall back to being the useless cowards that they were. Now that he was free, the human had rescinded to becoming a coward. Perhaps Scyther should have given the same treatment to Paul back then? It wouldn't be pretty, but it'd be strangely cathartic.

Scyther let out a wild screech and went in for the kill.

Skarmory had never really been one to sit on the sidelines. As the grandchild of a King ruling an entire mountain, she had always sorted her acquaintances into tiny boxes in her mind, with each box defining a particular form of relationship she shared with said individual. Most of the wild population back at the mountain were usually considered peasants, while the most powerful of each herd had the designation of chieftain in her mind.

Often, a new leader would arise amongst a herd, and try to overthrow the existing chieftain, in hopes of taking their place. Skarmory, from her exalted position, had always considered them petty amusements. After all, chieftains would come and go, but the Vortigern remained tall and mighty. And just like the gargantuan mountain, so did the Lord Vortigern.

Then, the foundations of her reality came crumbling down with her grandfather's demise. Sure, Skarmory was strong, very strong compared to most species that ruled the skies, but even so, the shadow of the Vortigern engulfed her. All her life as a youngling, she had been happy to learn from him, knowing that the throne was hers to rule in time. They had a few arguments over the concept of a ruler, but there was no doubt that Lord Vortigern was a great king.

Even so, it hadn't been enough. Even kings age and grow a little older with every passing day. Sometime prior to her thirteenth monsoon, the Vortigern had faced a fierce invasion from the surrounding mountains. Her grandfather had fiercely defended his home and the rest of the populace, but had found himself facing tribulations of a kind beyond his power to endure.

That was how the Lord Vortigern had breathed his last, upon a steep precipice, in a devastating battle against a most vicious rhyperior.

The young descendant to the mighty king had tried to defend her grandfather's authority, only to be met with overwhelming resistance. It had hurt, but the event had taught her something that the decade of grooming under her grandfather's tutelage had been unable to impart.

Skarmory had finally learned what it meant to lose.

She was powerful, but not overwhelmingly so. She was a king by right, but not by her power. Certainly not like her grandfather had been. Vortigern was no longer hers to command, and it made her wonder— was this why her father, whom she had disdained for so long, left the mountain with a human. To grow stronger? Perhaps he had realized that staying on the mountain was simply not enough. He had likely seen the truth of the situation and left to grow to greater heights, while Skarmory had chosen to stagnate in the comfort of the shady cave.

It had been difficult. Very difficult.

But Skarmory wasn't someone who would allow herself to fail for the sake of false ego. Nay, she would grow stronger and overcome the situation through strength and steel. As it should be. Her grandfather's legacy demanded it.

"You have a great destiny, bigger than the mountain. And to achieve it, you might have to travel past Vortigern itself…"

Even today, her grandfather's somewhat prophetic words rang true in her ears. She would leave. She would grow stronger. And she would come back a conqueror.

Come to think of it, being under the control of a human trainer hadn't exactly been a bad experience. Of course, Skarmory still had trouble trying to see her human as a trainer and not a retainer. It was to be expected. She was a proud king, after all, and what was a king without vanity?

She might have been defeated, and she might have had to leave her kingdom. She might have had to seek out humans, but if that was what it took to be strong, Skarmory would accept it. The entire experience was probably sweetened by the fact that Red was extremely accommodating, and in time when she'd regain her throne, she'd give Red a nice little cave of his own. Right there, on the lofty heights of Vortigern.

He deserved that much.

That brought her to the current situation.

Her original notions about the Viridian Forest were based on the huge expanses of Vortigern. She had even pictured herself gliding through the forest, slaughtering prey, and perhaps facing the occasional challenge. The chieftains back on Vortigern were powerful, sure, but Skarmory was no slouch herself. As it was, she had yet to face something that had forced her to back off in defeat. So, it was quite obvious that her hopes had been dashed the moment reality sunk in.

Viridian Forest was massive, true, but it was dense with foliage. It looked like a place for terrestrials to jump around on trees. There was hardly any place for someone like herself to spread out her wings. She was grateful that at the very least, Red was rational enough to stop at prime locations that allowed her to spread her wings and glide about. Yes, she had chosen a worthy trainer, and in time, he'd reap the benefits of helping her.

Their current location had been the best one in that regard. There was no canopy above, allowing her to spread her wings. She belonged to the sky, and it felt good to be back.

Her retainer had done a marvelous job in capturing that impudent brat of a scyther through sheer wit.

Skarmory approved of it.

Even from her lofty position, her keen eyes allowed her to perceive the ongoing interaction with incredible clarity. Like any other self-respecting creature, Skarmory understood why the scyther might feel antagonistic towards her retainer, but for all intents and purposes, the impudent bug had shown the audacity to steal from her— the King's —food.

She refused to believe that someone born with natural scythes— even if they weren't cloaked in steel —could have trouble making prey out of the weaklings in the forest. That such a well-endowed creature would sink so low to steal from others made her sneer in disgust. If it was so strong, then it should have simply challenged Red for the food.

And then, the unexpected happened.

The scyther's wings began to glow bright silver before they started vibrating. Skarmory widened her eyes and swooped down towards the ground, where her trainer had fallen. The scyther raised one of its scythes ahead and was just about to impale her retainer.

Not on my watch.

With incredible ferocity, Skarmory impaled her beak into the scyther from behind, right against its vibrating wings. The scyther screeched in pain as it felt her beak dig into its spine, and fell down to the ground, whimpering in pain. It almost raised a scythe in defiance, but she'd have none of it. She slashed her left wing against the raised scythe, deflecting it off without a care. Mission accomplished, she flew in front of the fallen brute and screeched.

"You fool! My trainer allowed you an option to grow stronger. To eat the very food, you prize so much. To serve under my own magnanimity, and you dare try and harm him?"

Scyther looked up, his countenance a picture of defiant rage. "He captured me and wanted to… This human—" His tone became hysterical. "This human is—"

'My trainer." Skarmory answered, her demeanor filled with pride. She had faith in her retainer, and would not accept anyone treating him with disregard. "My human trainer gave you an offer, more than what filth like you deserves. You steal my food, and then have the audacity to scream about the unfairness? You pathetic weakling—"

"I'm not weak!" Scyther roared in defiance, his scythes shining brightly, covered in steel energy. Ignoring the pain he must have been feeling from his injuries, he leaped towards Skarmory, slashing his scythe against her neck—

Only for the scythe to get trapped as Skarmory crooked her head, trapping the scythe in her neck without a care in the world. She grinned maliciously, and forced her hindlimbs forward, literally kicking the scyther in the abdomen. It screeched in pain, but Skarmory was far from done. Her beak glowed, gathering steel-energy, and without any second thoughts, she impaled the scythe trapped in the crook of her neck, causing the aggressive bug-type to screech in pain.

Scyther dropped down to the ground unceremoniously, but Skarmory was far from satisfied. Her claws sank into the scyther's left leg, and she soared above, taking her prey dangling with her. She heard Red yell out in concern, and allowed herself a grin. Trust her retainer to consider her safety over his own. The caterwauling bug kept squirming around, trying to break out of her grip, causing her claws to clench harder.

Once she felt she had reached high enough, she threw the scyther upward. Not high enough to kill it, but high enough to teach it a lesson. Instead, the presumptuous bastard shoved both of his scythes into Skarmory's abdomen.

The screeching sound that emanated after the attack did not belong to Skarmory. Instead, it was caused as the scythes, strong in their own right, slipped against Skarmory's metallic form, and bent in an odd direction, causing a sudden pain at its wrist.

The scyther cursed, gnashing his teeth, probably at his own ineffectiveness.

Then it glanced at Skarmory right in the eyes.

Skarmory grinned. Widely.

With a primal war cry, Skarmory felt her claws digging into the scyther, before she swooped down to the ground. There was no technique, no attack, no energy gathered. It was simply the power of gravity, and her own streamlined body shooting down towards the very crust itself, with the unfortunate scyther dangled in her claws. Skarmory plunged to the ground—ten feet, nine feet, eight feet— she descended without care. The scyther tried to slash its scythes against her form over and over, trying to escape its fate, trying to break out of her grip, but it was all in vain.

Skarmory spread her wings wide open, as she sent the scyther sprawling down to the ground, hearing the very satisfying sound of broken bones as it rolled and rumpled through the soil, before collapsing into a familiar and very much acceptable unconsciousness.

Quality entertainment. Skarmory mused.

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