Ascension

ACT TWO - DUST OF DREAMS

Chapter 8 - The Only Thing That Really Matters

"Alright Mawile, try again," Delia offered. "Remember, hold back on the pressure."

Mawile scrunched up her face, glancing at her official trainer out of the corner of her eye. From what she understood, Red's mother was some kind of super-expert on fairies, which Mawile translated as a stellar example of humans pretending to know about things they were clearly incapable of. Apparently, the female had a fairy-type of her own, one that was a master of fairy attacks or something along those lines.

Oh, and apparently Mawile— who had been using fairy-energy all her life —was doing it the wrong way.

And that was how she found herself being subjected to the rather uncomfortable experience of having yet another human train her on how to do things better.

Mawile glanced at Red again.

Her dopey trainer had been somewhat… subdued after winning that useless fight he called a gym-battle. She could understand though. Mawile, too, had been appalled upon finding out that all that training and fighting was simply to win a badly worn piece of metal. She had licked it and it tasted horrible— much worse than the metal ingots Red bought her and Skarmory —and certainly far inferior to the magnificence that were her poképuffs. Hell, even Shellder would probably find it tasteless, and he spent the majority of his time chewing her trainer's hair.

Mawile had gotten curious about its taste once, mostly because of the sheer amount of time Shellder spent nibbling on it, and had ended up plucking out one of Red's hairs when he was asleep and tasting it.

It was disgusting.

There was something seriously wrong with Shellder's taste buds. Or, well, Shellder in general, now that she thought about it.

Still, Mawile grumbled as she thought back to the gym battle. All of that training for a measly bit of metal?

Mawile had expected to receive large boxes filled with poképuffs of new and exotic flavors and days filled with travels and cuddles and headpats. Instead, she had found out that trainers went from city to city, fighting progressively harder gym-battles in return for increasingly worthless pieces of metal.

Mawile honestly didn't know how to feel about that. Only her trainer could fall for such an obvious ploy.

Still, Red had been remarkably silent ever since she had won him his badge. Perhaps he had realized that going to these gym things was useless, and it was time to select a new path in life.

It was only natural. Mawile remembered feeling the same when deciding between buying the cocoa-flavored poképuffs and the vanilla-flavored ones.

From what she understood, this was what humans called a mid-life crisis.

"—ready, Mawile?"

Oh, right. The woman had been speaking to her. Though, knowing how oblivious the woman could be, she might as well be speaking at her. Seriously, why couldn't Red train her like every other time?

…

…

On second thought, this was probably better than having to deal with the accursed notebook.

Mawile shuddered at the awful memory. Before the gym-battle, Red had gone over everything she had ever done wrong in incredibly excruciating detail. He had also somehow got it into his head that she needed visual reminders about any slip up she might make. This horrible train of thought had then led to her trainer recording their training sessions and snapshotting every instance she messed up on to be saved for all eternity.

Mawile had tried to kill the book three times in the past week alone, but Red seemed to be almost supernaturally aware of whenever she attempted it.

"Mawile! Are you listening? Remember, just the fairy energy. Hold back on the wind."

Come to think of it, at least Red let her take breaks when she was tired. Not to mention, giving her poképuffs when she got things right.

"Come on Mawile. One more try."

Mawile wanted to complain bitterly, she really did. But to her great misfortune, the words came out as an adorable mix of 'mawa-wawi' or something just as horribly cute.

Seriously, she hated herself sometimes.

Deciding not to procrastinate anymore, Mawile lifted her jaw, slowly condensing fairy-energy into it.

According to the woman, Fairy Wind worked by essentially dividing her energy into two unequal parts. The first, and larger, part was Fairy Energy. The second portion would be released as pressure— a word that the woman seemed to use interchangeably with wind.

She had never really thought about how the move was performed. While using Fairy Wind itself was fairly simple, the past few hours of practice had shown that splitting the move into its individual components was almost impossibly hard.

Mawile scrunched up her face and tried again.

This should have been easy. She had been using Fairy Wind since she was a baby. At this point, it was almost instinctual. The energies began to coalesce at the apex of her jaw, her go-to-place to launch her attacks. With a little effort, she gathered the slowly-forming mass of energy and prepared to disperse it in a gust of wind and—

Ah right. No wind.

Mawile forcefully separated the portion of the technique she had identified as responsible for the 'wind' and allowed it to simply fade away.

Then, she gathered the remaining, hopefully pure, fairy energy and pushed, as hard as she possibly could.

"Mawawawi?"

What was happening? She was positive she had done it perfectly that time. She had formed the tiny ball of energy, exactly like the woman had instructed her to. And yet, the moment she tried to project it outward, the lack of wind energy behind her push had caused the move to… well, collapse.

Right into her jaw.

Which had suddenly become lighter than a poképuff and was fluttering in the breeze, above her head, going left to right and then around in strange circles while tugging at the tip and—

"Mawaaa!" Mawile moaned out. The constant tugging was yanking at her head, trying to lift her off the ground. It was agonizing and—

And then it was gone.

Delia— bless her— had quickly gotten close to her and caught her jaw with her hands, allowing Mawile some respite from the constant tugging and pain. After a few more moments of confirmation that she was not about to let it go free out of some sense of sadistic pleasure, Mawile let out her breath and cooed back.

"The anti-gravitons should have dispersed by now," Delia was saying. "Can you try and move your jaw again?"

Mawile had no clue what the woman was talking about, but she could feel her jaw slowly regaining its usual heaviness, so she consented to the suggestion.

It wasn't like she had an alternative. This was her precious jaw they were talking about. If it decided to go all flighty and leave, then what would she be left with?

Humans and their stupid experiments.

She looked towards Red, who was watching with a somehow extra-dopey expression on his face. Usually, he would have run over by now. Something was wrong with him and Mawile didn't like it.

She turned back to Delia, who had finally let go of her jaw — which was thankfully appropriately heavy again.

From what she understood, Red had asked his mother to train her and the other fairy in controlling their powers better. Though, from her current experience, the woman was clearly not doing a good job.

Why anyone would want to lighten her precious jaw was beyond her. Actually, now that she thought about it, wasn't the Delia woman a researcher? Someone similar to that Oak person?

Maybe… maybe this was some sort of experiment to see if lightening her jaw would cause her to float away?

Mawile glanced at Red suspiciously. Surely her trainer wouldn't allow that.

...Right? Or was that why he was so pensive?

"Mawile, are you alright?" the Delia woman asked, as if she actually cared.

If she really did give a damn, then she wouldn't be torturing Mawile like this in the first place.

But no, apparently she had to focus on control because she was weak, or had low reserves or something. A claim that was completely false. She had plenty of fairy energy. It was the new teammate, the Mia fairy, that was the freak.

Ordinarily, Mawile would have already drawn a line in the sand and showed Mia her position in the pecking order. But considering her performance at the gym-place, Mawile had decided to leave it for another time. After all, even Skarmory had shown some restraint and not immediately tried to corrupt her into some kind of vassal. And that was completely ignoring Growlithe, who was doing his absolute best to avoid her very presence.

No, Mawile decided to adopt a live-and-let-live attitude for now. The Mia fairy seemed strangely fixated upon Red, which was annoying, but Mawile could grin and bear with it.

The fact that said fairy was currently learning from Delia's Mr. Mime— a vicious creature whose sadism knew no bounds —made her feel a lot better about it all.

The Delia woman could be quite mean. Actually, now that she thought about it, so was the Oak person and the Orange girl and just about every other human she'd met so far.

Mawile frowned. She would have to work hard to keep her trainer away from the bad influences the world seemed determined to force upon him.

"Alright Mawile," Delia asked brightly, a veneer of civility concealing her inner viciousness. "Let's try again, shall we?"

Mawile gulped. She wouldn't complain about Red's notebook or teaching methods ever again.

Red was feeling… odd.

Back when he had gotten past his reluctance to speak with his mother and mustered the will to actively ask her for help, a part of him had expected her to brush him off.

To point him to a text-book, or give him a quick layman rundown on how fairy-energy worked.

Instead, she had been almost… excited that he'd asked.

She had sat him down, and given him a comprehensive, three-hour lecture on the nature of graviton/anti-graviton interaction until he knew more about fairy energy than he had ever thought he would.

And surprisingly, he had loved it. Learning about how things work had always been something he enjoyed greatly— a quality the old man constantly told him was essential in a good researcher.

But more importantly, he had enjoyed spending time with his mother. It made him feel happy and, at the same time, a little bitter.

Still, she was doing her best to make amends, and knowing what happened to her as well as the effect of Mia's own influence— and he still didn't know what to make of that — helped him understand just why she behaved the way she did.

He didn't like it. But he could accept it.

And his mother was going to great lengths to try and bond with him.

She had teleported her Mr. Mime all the way from Pallet Town just to train Mawile and Mia at harnessing fairy energy more efficiently. To him, it had always been the harmless, albeit sadistic pokémon that helped his mom around the house.

It was now that he realized that this was a bonafide elite-tier pokémon.

Red had thought that Mia was powerful when she crushed the graveler in the gym. But Mr. Mime? It was toying with her. Mia was tossing powerful bursts of fairy energy at it and Mr. Mime was basically ignoring them all, simply ripping control of the energy from Mia and sending it back to her in various forms.

Folding it, molding it into screens to impede movement, transforming it into threads that controlled her like a puppet— it was terrifying. Mr. Mime would have likely had no problem crushing the golem back in Viridian forest.

Mia, of course, was having the time of her life. Mr. Mime seemed to have taken a liking to her— something he personally found unfair, considering the sheer number of times it had slapped him awake at home — and was teaching her remarkably gently.

Mawile, on the other hand, was a different story. While Mia had reserves that bordered on ridiculous, Mawile's were far more pitiful, which meant that she would have to play the efficiency game— To obtain maximum results with minimal energy.

He had spent quite a lot of time watching videos of fairy pokémon battling before he arrived at a solution. One of the videos that stuck with him was about Argent, an elite trainer that was constantly beating his foes with his altaria. And while the victories themselves were not particularly interesting to Red, just how the man had won had impressed him.

The altaria was constantly manipulating its own weight using fairy energy. Combined with the natural buoyancy of the cloud-like vapors surrounding it, the pokémon was literally bouncing across the field. Not only was it constantly adjusting its own weight to maximize speed, but it was also altering its opponent's weight.

While Mawile could not replicate that entirely, or at least not yet, Red had wanted her to learn something similar. To be able to modify her weight when she wanted to reduce impact and increase mobility. Plus, Mawile seemed to like hitting things with her jaw. If she was able to massively increase its weight right before it hit…

Red shuddered.

She would become an absolute nightmare to fight.

Unfortunately, he didn't know very much about how to go about actually teaching Mawile how to do that, which was why he was watching his mother train Mawile so attentively. She had instantly agreed, and had spent several hours training Mawile so far.

Still, his mother wouldn't be around forever, which meant that he would have to learn as much as possible so he could be an adequate teacher for Mawile.

She was small, but she had the potential to be a powerful battler. The last thing he wanted was to hold her back because of his own inadequacies.

"Ah, here you are," the old professor walked up beside him, interrupting his thoughts. "And ready as well. We'll be leaving shortly."

Red looked at the man thoughtfully. "Leaving to where?"

The man only gave him a knowing smile in return. "To meet a friend."

"A… a friend?" Red wondered. Anyone the professor called a friend was bound to be interesting. Though why he wanted to take Red along was anybody's guess.

"Don't be so worried."

Red blinked. "...Huh?"

"Your mother is training Mawile and Mia. It's natural to feel concerned and responsible. It's part and parcel of being a trainer."

Red opened his mouth to tell the old man that he hadn't actually been worried about that, before reluctantly closing it again. The man's assessment wasn't completely off the mark.

"Don't worry," the old professor placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Delia has trained Mr. Mime well. I've seen its skill first-hand. Don't judge it based on its looks. That thing can whip an elite pokemon into shape."

Red nodded. "Yeah. I had no idea it was so strong."

"Oh, did you think your mother was just some random trainer? Not everyone has the potential to become an explorer, Red."

It was true. Explorers were a rare breed. Most trainers, after going through the League circuit, either ended up with a job under the League or simply changed their careers. Very few had enough lust for adventure to actually become an explorer and live life on the edge. And the idea of an adventure-crazy Delia Ketchum was inconceivable to him.

But the old man also brought up a good point. The League wouldn't allow just anyone to be part of an exploration, let alone one led by Samuel Oak. Speaking of which—

"You know old man," Red began curiously, "I don't think I ever asked, but what was the Galar Mission about?"

"Ah," the smile dropped from the man's lips. "That."

Red didn't speak a word, waiting for the man to say more on the subject.

"It was a fool's dream. A quest to find the ruins of the lost kingdom of Ashkanar."

Red frowned in confusion. "Doesn't ring any bells."

Oak laughed. "I'd be surprised if it did. Perhaps you've heard its more famous moniker? Pokémopolis?"

Red looked at him in surprise. Pokémopolis was one of the greatest mysteries of the known world. If he remembered correctly, excavations at the base of Mt. Hideaway had unveiled ruins depicting an ancient empire ruled by some sort of immortal God-King. History books were filled with speculation about the true location of this ancient empire, though no exact region had been mentioned anywhere.

"Are you— you telling me that this Ashkanar is—"

"Pokémopolis, or what we call Pokémopolis. There is a reason, after all, why the Galar region still remains a forbidden zone so many years after its discovery. Ashkanar is a myth for most people in our world, except those that have been there. Or, at least been close to it."

"And you—" Red paused. "You and mom did?"

Oak tilted his head quizzically, as if trying to settle on an answer. "It's difficult to say. We'd reached farther than anyone else, I'd say. And even then, we had help." The old man paused, an indecipherable expression on his face. "In the end, we had to abort the mission."

"Why?"

"To save ourselves," Oak answered bitterly. "Our team had some of the finest explorers Kanto had to offer, but Ashkanar… that was a mistake. Thirteen people in total, and only four of us made it out alive."

"Oh." Red looked at him apologetically.

Oak gave him a mirthless smile. "I suppose it can serve as a warning, that no matter how powerful one gets, some things are best left alone. Even champion-level trainers are no exception to that."

Red's eyes narrowed. "What did you find?"

Oak looked at him contemplatively. "You understand the fascination, don't you? Being a researcher is incredibly interesting. Can something as mundane as being a trainer compare to solving the mysteries of the world?"

Red's eyebrow twitched. Even now, the old man was pushing his agenda. He had already somehow been turned into a field researcher, though Oak had assured him it wouldn't affect his trainer journey. Furthermore, the old man was incredibly happy about it. In the last few days, he had managed to mention Red's new research job multiple times. In every conversation they had.

"What did you find?" Red pressed, unwilling to let the professor change the topic.

"The Baetylus. The House of God. The entrance to what some people believe is the realm of the oldest legendary in existence." Oak paused, as if to let the gravity of what he had just said sink in. "For years, scholars have tried to connect other myths and inscriptions to this God-King. In Sinnoh, they worship Arceus, who they believe created the world. In Kalos, it is Xerneas who serves as the origin of all life. Meanwhile, in Kanto, some groups think that a giant ditto is the progenitor from which pokémon arose."

Red nearly choked at that last bit, the incredulity of the idea unsettling his mind. Quickly composing himself, he continued with a frown, "So… all of these legendaries that created the world… are they all the same pokémon? Each region just gives them different names?"

"Who knows?" Oak shrugged. "We don't know much about legendaries other than the fact that they exist. And, every time they act, they leave wanton death and destruction in their wake."

"That's… terrifying," Red admitted. "The way you talk about it, it seems less like some legendary and more like some eldritch god at work." He glanced towards his mother, who was actively trying to teach Mawile about using fairy energy the right way.

He hoped she'd survive the encounter with her sanity intact.

And without physical injuries for that matter. Mawile tended to be a little snappish when she got irritated.

Exhaling, he tuned out, focusing on the old man's words instead.

"Did you find it?" he asked after a long pause.

"Find what?"

"Pokémopolis. The ruins. The batty-thing?"

Oak chortled. "Baetylus. It means 'navel of the world'. Though in a different context, it may also refer to an entrance, usually to something very powerful."

"Powerful," Red let the word hang at the edge of his lips for a moment. "Shouldn't you be going for 'holy' or something like that?"

"Our belief in concepts like holiness and piety are quite modern, Red. The concept of god in older civilizations was used only in terms of strength or power. Take the Sevii theocracy for instance. They worship the legendary bird Articuno as the Lord of Ice, but to my knowledge, Articuno has never done a single thing that could be classified as benevolent."

"Then…" Red frowned, "why do they worship it— Articuno, I mean?"

Oak shrugged. "Because it's powerful? Because it's a legendary being that defies human comprehension? Because it's the nature of living organisms to bow down and step aside for those they consider to be superiors? Take your pick."

"I… really don't know how to feel about that."

Oak gave him a lop-sided grin. "No matter, we've digressed from the topic anyways. Now, the baetylus… we did come across something that greatly resembled what the baetylus could have been. A grand stone arch that lined some type of mausoleum. But it was rather useless."

Red blinked. "A fake?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Oak admitted. "The entire archway crumbled the moment we touched it. Or rather, when Delia touched it, to be specific. We did manage to bring back some pieces from that debris though. In fact, you know that necklace your mother always wears around her neck? That is one of them."

Red was floored. No matter where Delia was, she could always be seen wearing that oddity around her neck. It wasn't even something cool— just a jagged piece of rock, tapering at the bottom with a strange symbol engraved upon it. Red had never found the meaning of that inscription anywhere, so he had simply treated it as a random, fancy trinket and hadn't given it much thought since.

"Did you find out what that legendary was after all?" he asked, after a long-drawn moment of tense silence.

Oak let out a soft grunt. "We didn't. That being said, one of my acquaintances back then had made considerable forays about the Galar continent. In fact, one of the reasons behind my expedition was to recover this man and, if possible, take over the reins of his research." Oak took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, he was already dying when we found him."

"What was his name?" Red asked.

"Atsushi Shirona, a fellow colleague from Sinnoh. In fact, I sent an invite to his family for the Pewter event. From what I've heard, his granddaughter is regarded as a prodigy in every sense of the word."

"A prodigy, eh?" Red mused. As far as pokémon battling went, he had only known a single person of his age that merited such a title.

Gary Oak.

No matter how much of an arrogant ass the boy might have been, Red knew for a fact that Gary was a natural as far as battling was concerned.

I wonder if she'll turn out to be another blue-eyed asshole.

"But I digress again," Oak chuckled. "Shirona's notes did contain one name, though considering everything…" the old man sported a calculative expression on his face. "Actually, you're an official field researcher now, aren't you? It'll be interesting to see what you think of those writings."

Red wanted to say that he wasn't exactly an official researcher yet, not until the Parthenon sent him his contract. But the professor wasn't really the type to care about semantics, judging from how he was already rummaging through his deceptively large pockets.

It turned out to be one of those pocket-sized tablet things that the man kept on his person at all times. After quickly shifting through the screen, the man flipped it open and showed it to him.

"Tell me what you think," he said with a grin.

"But—"

"Oh, go on. Indulge me."

Reluctantly, Red took the tablet from the professor. On the screen was an old photograph of what seemed to be random scribbles, while a fresh translation was put at the bottom for ease of understanding. Tossing his mother a final glance, Red took a deep breath and started to read.

The phantasma of the night only exists to teach, but none may understand their words. Terror and despair are all that exist for those that have no bodies yet bear teeth and eyes that gleam in shadow.

Separate yourself from creation and its ceaseless yammerings. In life it serves no function, in death it becomes food for those that dwell beneath. Take yourself apart, embrace your fear, and dive into the abyss below.

It is only when you have lost yourself in the wasteland of unending nothingness, that you will be free.

Only then can you take, only then can you eat.

There is only hunger in this universe. Devour everything.

Be Eternatus.

...

…

"Well?" Oak asked expectantly. "It is interesting, isn't it?"

"It is," Red answered, his eyes still firmly glued to the passage. "Incredibly so."

"It would take nothing less to move me. This was the basis of our expedition, the reason that our group was willing to stake everything to traverse a forbidden zone."

"That's... incredible," Red looked at the old man in admiration. "Maybe I'll find something interesting like that one day."

"Of course you will," Oak answered imperiously. "You've decided to become a researcher. This is your life now."

Red's eyebrows twitched again.

Shellder's dream was a simple one: to fill the world with Shellder.

He had taken the first step in doing so when the human, Red, taught him the Double Team technique. In turn, he had planned to repay him by teaching him how to be Shellder.

But now, things were getting out of hand.

True, it was important to dream big, but becoming a shellder was a daunting task in itself. And yet, the number of creatures wanting to become Shellder were increasing faster than it had estimated.

And Shellder didn't know what to think about it.

It had started with Red. The human was nothing if not persistent. He got entirely too excited whenever Shellder chewed on his hair. Sometimes, Shellder wondered why. There were much better approaches to try and become Shellder than trying to imitate seaweed.

Maybe he thought that having Shellder chew upon his hair would increase his mental capacity? It was an odd line of thought, but not an entirely illogical one.

Experimentation was the key to discovery, after all.

The mawile, on the other hand, was a bad learner from the very beginning, though she was nothing if not diligent. Every time she failed to achieve success in a task, she stroked against Shellder's shell, hoping for answers.

Naturally, Shellder did not help her. After all, if it did, how would the mawile learn? Being Shellder was no easy task, and it was only a matter of time before the mawile figured it out. Having a jaw that opened and shut like its shell was certainly progress, but the road was long and filled with obstacles.

But despite their strange idiosyncrasies, there used to be just two of them. Shellder could deal with that much attention.

But now?

Its followers were increasing at an unbearable pace. First, that steel bird that kept banging into everything when it wasn't trying to set itself on fire. Then the speedy one that kept outspeeding itself. After that, the growlithe had come sniffing around. Shellder had seen some of its kind before, though not a purple-shaded one.

Shellder didn't know why they had all come onto his team, but in his attempts to figure it out, he had learned to squeak louder. The human Red had called it screeching. Was this screech a louder squeak? Or was a squeak a weaker screech? If so, why not call it louder squeak? Perhaps the human thought that Shellder would forget how to screech if he called it a squeak?

Humans were complicated.

And now, the situation was getting even worse.

Shellder had seen the old human peek at him from time to time. Who knew what kind of machinations the human had for Shellder. The growlithe had said that humans were sadistic and cruel beings who made you fight death-matches and put you into evil contraptions that made you feel like you were running and running and yet ended up going absolutely nowhere.

He would have to be careful.

But of all of the awkward creatures that had chosen to aggregate around him, Shellder found the most interest in the newest fairy— the creature that should have been a gardevoir, but who assured him was a mia.

What was a mia anyways? Not even Shellder's limited enlightenment had given it the answer to that question. Shellder had thrown itself into a fountain, manifesting bubble-shellders day and night in the hope of understanding, but the solution still escaped it.

Shellder gazed at the mia in wonder, watching on as it formed planes of light and jumped around in excitement.

It looked rather interesting. Perhaps Shellder should start researching how to be a mia? It might explain the unreal fascination everyone had with being a shellder.

Truly, the path of experimentation was a long and arduous one.

"Cynthia dear, don't you think you're hurrying things a bit too much?"

Cynthia Shirona, age 15, walked up to the side of the expansive deck, calmly watching the sparkling waves of the blue ocean ripple in the light of the midday sun. She had been jittery and slightly self-conscious about being on a cruise ship— this being her first time off the mainland — but the feeling had slowly shifted to casual acceptance and enjoyment.

After all, it wasn't every day that one got to travel aboard the SS Anne.

Around seven hundred feet in length with the carrying capacity of over two thousand, it was one of those indulgences that only the wealthiest could afford. Even gyarados seemed like worms when compared to this gigantic, floating, metal behemoth.

And currently, it was headed for Vermillion City Harbour, off the southern coast of Kanto.

"You don't understand," the blonde-haired girl tried to explain. "I know Dad wants me to be a trainer like he was, but I don't want that, Nana. Please!"

Her grandmother sighed at her, and Cynthia knew it would be futile. This particular conversation always was.

"You are a natural fighter, Cynthia. Being a warrior is in your blood. Is it really wise to throw that away because of some childish dream?"

It was the same argument. Every single time.

Earning money through professional battling. That was what kept the Shirona family among the upper echelons of Celestic Town. Her grandmother, Caroline, was an Unovan by descent, a member of the ancient Blackthorne lineage. She had married an explorer and freelance researcher by the name of Atsushi Shirona, a native of Celestic Town. After a certain incident that led to the man's sudden demise, Caroline and her son had been left to fend for themselves.

The way her grandmother saw it, it was the Blackthorne blood and their natural superiority that allowed her son Zeruel to rise to great heights in the competitive battling scene. He had become the youngest ever ACE Captain, and was well on his way to become the youngest Elite Four member in history.

And, according to her grandmother, Cynthia's own talent was even greater. They had spared no expense in getting her one of the rarest and highest-potential starters in existence— a gible, something that she loved very much.

And it wasn't like her grandmother was wrong. Battling did come easily to her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd lost against anyone of comparable experience.

The problem was that Cynthia did not enjoy battling.

"I thought my life was about me. My desires. My ambitions. Why can't I be allowed to do what I want?"

"You are allowed to, Cynthia, but only when you know better. It is the duty of the parent to steer their child in the right direction."

And that was that.

Her path was set. She had to be a trainer, and a professional one at that.

From a very early age, Cynthia had been captivated by the tiny institute that was once run by her grandfather Atsushi. Over time, she had fallen in love and decided on her path in life. She would become an archaeologist and unravel the mysteries of Sinnoh. She had excitedly taken her proposal to her family, expecting them to support her. But instead, she was met with blank stares and looks of… pity.

"I'm not interested!" Cynthia put her foot down. "I don't want to be a trainer. I'll finish the league-mandated gym-circuit and then I'm done!"

"You'll follow the footsteps of a man that left us with nothing?"

And therein lay the crux of the matter.

Her grandmother, Caroline, had left everything— her home, her lands, the Blackthorne name— for love. And in return, she got a man who had wasted his life in the pursuit of something he couldn't even properly explain. In her eyes, it had been the Blackthorne blood flowing through her son's veins that had turned him into an illustrious trainer and brought back pride and wealth to the family.

As far as Caroline was concerned, Cynthia was betraying the family with her wishful thinking.

Cynthia understood her family's concerns, she really did. But that didn't mean she was willing to throw away her dreams for the sake of their pride. Did being a Blackthorne by blood mean that she wasn't allowed to have a dream?

And then, when all seemed lost, when her life appeared to be set in stone, a glimmer of hope appeared.

In the form of an invitation letter from the Kanto government.

Signed by Samuel Oak.

The former Champion of Kanto was a living legend, especially because of his invention of the Pokédex. More importantly — to her, at least —his personal research institute was the Parthenon, a behemoth in the world of archaeological investigation.

The organization had an offshoot in Sinnoh, built near Mt. Coronet. Cynthia had tried her luck in getting an internship program, but unfortunately she hadn't made the cut.

Naturally, seeing a signed invitation from the founder to be a part of some mysterious event, one that promised to change the world, was nothing short of a dream come true.

Opportunities, as her father always said, were like qwilfish. They were often fickle, and if you didn't catch them in time, they'd puff up and stab you instead.

For once, she had no qualms over following through with her father's advice.

That was twelve days ago.

Twelve days since she had quietly packed her bags, took her team, and left Celestic Town. A single bus ride has gotten her to Eterna City, from where she had boarded the SS Anne— the official vessel transporting all invitees from Sinnoh and Hoenn to Pewter City.

And that brought her to the present situation.

Alone, with nothing but her backpack full of clothes, a bit of cash she had saved, her pokéballs, and a signed invitation. One that allowed her free food and board on the SS Anne as it sailed towards the Kanto mainland, all the way to the coast of Vermillion.

The plan was simple. She'd use the invitation to get access to the Pewter City event and try to get an audience with the former champion. With a little luck, she would set something up for herself. Even an apprenticeship contract with the assistant researcher of the Parthenon would be plenty. If not, she could always survive by battling random losers and earning cash.

She had started her journey a little after she turned fourteen, and now she was a High-Intermediate trainer, one of the youngest ever. And while the journey itself had been fun, battling was not. It was too… easy. Too boring.

And now she finally had an opportunity to break free from it all. To be herself, unshackled by the restraints placed upon her by her family.

Really, was it any surprise she had run away like this?

"ALL PASSENGERS ARE REQUESTED TO GET READY!" the crew announced, shaking her from her errant thoughts. "WE ARE ENTERING THE SOUTH KANTO SEA!"

Cynthia stood at the bow of the ship, her fingers tightly gripping the railings as her grin threatened to tear her face open.

This… this was it.

Her ticket to freedom.

"I'm finally here! Parthenon, here I come!"

The issue with great men and women, as Red had come to learn by experience, was that they were half-insane by nature. So when the professor had told him that the two of them were going on a trip, Red shouldn't have been surprised that he had conveniently left out their uphill ascent— to the top of one of the largest mountains surrounding Pewter City.

With his entire team in tow.

"What are we doing here, old man?" Red irritatedly questioned.

"As I said, we are here to meet a friend."

"I don't see anyone..." Red began before looking around. "Why would anyone want to meet you in the middle of nowhere?"

"You'll see," the professor chuckled. "You know, you've grown far quicker than I expected. When you told me that you wanted to challenge Brock for the certification, I didn't think you'd actually succeed."

"Oh come on, why does everyone—"

"But you proved me wrong," the man went on. "And you defeated him. Soundly, I might add, and using a fighting strategy that most would not dare consider in the first place. You've likely impressed Brock as well."

Red thought back to the Gym Leader's constipated expression at the end of their match. No matter what the old man said, he really didn't think he left a positive impression on him.

At all.

"Of course, the man also believes that you have a death wish, but we both know what you think of that."

Red shrugged. He had had this conversation before, and still hadn't changed his mind about it whatsoever. He was going to train his pokémon to think for themselves during battle and make their own decisions. His job was to guide them when needed, and to pick them up when they faltered.

Nothing more.

Though, why the man was bringing all of this up now of all times, he had no clue.

"Back before you started out on your journey, you asked me if I could have given you a baby charmander from my ranch. I knew you wanted a charmander because it was the closest one got to getting a dragon starter. The fact is, I even had an actual dragon at the ranch. A tiny axew, just a few months old."

"Then—" Red's eyes widened with incomprehension. "You had an actual dragon at your— then why didn't you—" he stopped himself momentarily, remembering where and with whom he was having this conversation.

As it was, Mawile was sitting on the car's bonnet, idly swinging her tiny feet as she listened to their conversation.

"Give you Mawile, you mean?" Oak offered.

Clearly, all concepts of subtlety were wasted on this man.

"...Yes," Red ground out. "Why did you do that? Not that I'm unhappy or anything," he swiftly added. Though it was true. While he'd been initially reluctant about taking her as his starter, she had grown on him tremendously. If he had the chance to choose all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

Oak smiled. "I know. I doubt there is anyone that would even consider a mawile to be an adequate starter. And with due reason. Despite its unique typing, the mawile species is saddled with a frail physical constitution and low reserves."

Mawile stopped swinging her legs.

Red really hoped the old man would get to the point before Mawile made her first attempt to murder a human.

"Normally, I'd have agreed with that sentiment, but then again, I know you. You have learned well from me all these years, so I thought… I thought letting you have a mawile would give you a unique experience. Most trainers with standard starter pokémon only focus on buffing them up with TMs and nutrient supplements, trying to hasten their evolution. With Mawile, you had no such option. You had to teach her to be better, to train her in ways to overcome her natural weaknesses."

He paused momentarily.

"It goes without saying that it was a resounding success. One only needs to look at your trainer history and most recent gym performance. But in fact, there was one more reason to give you Mawile and see how you fared." Oak paused again, looking at him straight in the eye. "I wanted to see if you had the work ethic and the necessary ability to raise a dragon."

Red's eyes widened. Was that what all of this was about?

"Is your friend going to give me a dragon?" he asked excitedly.

Oak chuckled. "Not quite. We have something different in mind. Tell me Red, do you know why a dragon is never considered a starter?"

Red knew the answer very well. It was the reason why he had never asked for a dragon back then, focusing instead on getting his hands on a charmander.

"Because baby dragons tend to be quite weak and require a lot of attention. Furthermore, it can take over a year of growth before they can evolve into their second-stage and develop interesting abilities. And on top of that, they can be very temperamental once they evolve, some of them even attacking their own trainers if they find them unworthy. Not exactly ideal qualities for a starter."

"Precisely," the old man agreed. "And now that you've proved yourself competent enough to train one, both on a personal and a professional level, I have no problems with presenting you with one."

Was… was this really happening? Red almost couldn't believe it. He was finally going to get a dragon! What was it going to be? The axew? From what he remembered, the axew-line were notorious not only for their physical strength, but for their incredibly moody nature.

On that note, an axew would get along with Mawile famously. That, or they'd constantly be at each other's throats.

He didn't know which was worse.

"Yes, I think it's time you had the dragon-type you wanted for so long. Originally, I thought of getting you a charmander, preferably one with strong draconic ties. But then I decided on something else. So here it is."

Oak took out an Ultraball, distinctive by the yellow U splattered across its shiny dark-gray foreground.

"Is that a—" Red began but the venerated professor cut him off again.

He clicked on the release button letting out an ethereal, energy beam that slowly formed into an overall serpentine form. Three-pronged fins appeared on either side of the head while a white bump formed in the middle of round, blackish eyes that sparkled with curiosity. A singular horn protruded from the center of its forehead, while the underbelly was distinct with its pearly white color, complementing the blue-hued scales covering the rest of its sinuous structure.

The entire creature, easily five feet in length, started to make strange cooey sounds as it twisted through the air.

"That's a… that's a dratini!" Red whispered.

"Yes," Oak stated. "I talked with my… friend, and she is willing to give it to you, should you satisfy her."

"Satisfy her?"

Yes." A large gust of wind began to twist around the mountain top. "She was quite clear on wanting to test the trainer who would be accompanying her child."

Red would have asked more questions, but he was distracted by the massive orange dragon that had begun to descend atop the mountain.

A dragon that he easily recognized. How could he not? He had spent hours playing with it as a child on the ranch.

"Drago," he croaked out. "It's you?"

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