Year 902 – Haunted Willows, the Outlands

"Put your back into it, Pup!"

Caractacus grumbled under his breath before taking one step forward and attempting to pull the plow attached to him. He wasn't sure how or why, but the community of Haunted Willows somehow convinced him to join their residency. Though, he refused to admit it was because he was getting hungry.

However, that also meant he had to take part in the daily chores. Without even a moment to complain, over the course of a few days, his body was put through rigorous stress. They had him carry bags of soil across the tilled land, repaint the huts, fix some of their equipment, and now had him strapped to the death weight they called a plow.

He shot an annoyed glare at the elderly Mandibuzz overseeing him. "You could help, you old buzzard!"

The elderly bird squawked with laughter. "Sonny, I've done my time for nearly ninety years! A young man like you can handle a little labor."

"It is FUCKING hot out here!"

"Language."

"Fuck you!"

"Oh boy…"

Caractacus kept pushing on despite his protests, pulling the plow through the field until he completed his final lap. By the time he reached the end, he faceplanted in the dirt and trembled with exhaustion. His paws were scuffed, and his fur was matted with dirt. His legs felt like they were on fire, the thought of moving threatening to tear them apart.

The Mandibuzz nodded. "Good lad. Now you can—"

"There's more?!" he snapped.

"…Take a break," she finished.

"…" He groaned and pressed his face into the dirt again.

The young Marill that first met him ran up to the exhausted Boltund and undid his harness. "You hungry?"

"Don't say stupid questions with obvious answers…" he groaned.

The Marill pouted. "You're rude, you know that?"

"What's your point?"

He pulled on the Boltund's paw and hoisted him to his feet. "Come on, Ma made stew!"

The promise of warm stew enticed the hound enough to rise and followed the water mouse's lead. He shot one last glare at the elderly Mandibuzz, hearing her laughter she tried to hide. He scoffed. "This is beneath me."

The Marill grinned. "We all have to do our part to help out. We all came to the Outlands to get away from society, but didn't want to get involved with the Freaks that make it up. So, this little safe haven of ours is purely independent. We grow our own food, make our own paint, our own clothes, and a whole bunch of other stuff."

"And that…works for you?" he grumbled.

"Sure! We haven't had a problem yet."

Caractacus rolled his eyes. "What naïve showings of camaraderie."

"What do you mean?"

"Give it time. People are untrustworthy. They always want you for something, and you stop being wanted once you stop providing. That's how the world is."

Marill laughed. "You're funny, Tac!"

He grimaced. "Why does everyone corrupt my name like that? It's Caractacus, not Tac."

"Whatever you say, Carack-a-Rack Cactus!"

"You're doing this on purpose."

"Deliberately and deviously!"

Caractacus sighed as the Marill ran off ahead in laughter, though he felt a tired smile crawl over his muzzle. "Stupid kid…"

He stopped briefly and glanced over his shoulder. He had only arrived for a few days, but he couldn't shake the dreary air following behind him. Whenever he was doing his chores, the sight of a shadow passing along the walls would freak him out. He couldn't sleep the first few nights, either, hence why he's still cranky about the work.

He had been on the run for weeks ever since his encounter with the nigh inescapable jackal. He could still hear the gunshots. He could still see the fires breaking out all in a bid to capture him. Every creak, every flicker from the corner of his eye, every groan from the old buildings set the hound on edge.

He was putting himself at risk staying in one place, but what else could he do? Was he just destined to keep running for the rest of his life? How can he live with himself forced into this endless chase? Everything he did was for the sake of surviving. That was all he could do.

He couldn't run forever.

He needed a permanent solution to his bounty hunter problem.

Caractacus expected one of two things upon waking up. One, to be thrown in a cage and awaiting the orders of whatever Freak decided to make use of his genius. Or two, robbed of his limited possessions, perhaps even a couple organs. If he had the energy, his Negative Space would've kept him safe, but he never went so long without proper sustenance. He doomed himself to whatever peril he landed upon.

However, no such trouble stood before him. Instead, upon cracking his eyes open, he found himself lying in front of a fire. Confused, he turned his eyes up and saw that nightfall had fallen over the land.

He ran a paw over his stomach, reassuring himself that his stomach wasn't cut open and harvested. He also wasn't sitting in a cage, but rather on the cold sand kept warm only by the grace of the flames.

"Ah. You're finally awake."

Caractacus sat himself up, brushing off a minor dizzy spell, and looked ahead of the fire to acknowledge his savior: an old Nidoking dressed in a heavy cloak. He had a plate of food by his side, and it appeared to be freshly cooked. He busied himself with a journal he was scribbling in, only looking up to observe Caractacus' expression.

"Well, don't be a stranger. You look like you haven't had a decent meal in days."

Caractacus glanced to his side and saw Alpha sitting in the sand with another tray of freshly cooked meat and vegetables. Caractacus stared at the plate wearily before glancing at his savior, who laughed at the hound's befuddlement.

"Oh, don't give me that look. It's not poisoned, and it's faux meat."

Though still unsure, Caractacus couldn't deny the growling of his stomach any longer. He leaned over the plate and munched upon the meal. He didn't have much to say for taste, but he could feel it filling his stomach, and that's all he could really ask for.

The Nidoking shifted from his position and observed Caractacus before scribbling away in his journal. "You are a peculiar fellow. I mistook you for an armored knight who lost their way, but it appears that isn't just armor decorating your body."

Caractacus swallowed and wiped his muzzle. "Got a problem with the way I look?"

"On the contrary, I find it most fascinating. I never knew we've advanced to the point of metal prosthetics."

"…" Caractacus glared at the ground. "I…actually did this to myself."

"Oh? My, you must be a certified genius!"

Caractacus scowled. "Quit with the flattery. You know who I am, don't you?"

The Nidoking rested his chin in his hand and laughed softly. "Now, why would you assume something like that? Should I know you?"

"That's the reason you saved my hide, right?"

"I saved you because I happened to see an unfortunate soul wandering these desolate parts and figured he could use some help. There's nothing more to it than that."

"Tch. Yeah, sure."

The Nidoking laughed. "You don't trust me, do you?"

"I don't trust anything with a pulse."

"Well, glad to see you're in good company with Ghost-Types and inorganics."

"That's not what I—oh, forget it."

The Nidoking set his journal aside and picked up his plate. He twirled a fork between his claws before stabbing his meal with a delicacy unfitting to a Pokémon of his stature. He ate with the composure of a noble, not allowing the juices of the meat to stain his lips. Caractacus glared at the man wearily, recognizing these formal mannerisms from his encounter with the Sin of Lust.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

The man laughed. "Oh? What gave it away?"

"Well, for starters, you're the only person I've met out here that didn't strongarm me into a contract or swear like a drunken sailor after a messy divorce."

The Nidoking laughed. "Is that right? Well, then I must agree. Hard to find civilized company this far out in the Outlands. It is the land of anarchy. Very few areas you'll find decency. Closest would be those trading towns and the like. But then you get to the isolated towns like Scornpeak or Dead Man's Field, and you'd be hard press to find anyone not wanting to put a knife in your back."

Caractacus raised his brow. "You speak from experience?"

"Something of the sort. A shame what happened to this land. It used to be a lot nicer back in my day." He smiled softly at his plate, moving the meat and vegetables around with his fork. "Then again, my day seemed considerably wilder than today. You had to fight for your keep. Stronger and faster was the way, but I found being smarter had its advantages."

Caractacus crossed his forelegs. "You fancy yourself an intellectual?"

"If one carries themselves as an intellectual, is that a mark of self-awareness to one's own abilities, or is it the ostentatious persona of one who believes they are intelligent? No, I do not believe myself an intellectual, merely someone with a vast library of anecdotes and trivia that could describe me as a learned academic. Though, I do hope I am intelligent, lest I have done potentially irreversible damage to the self-confidence and aptitudes of my former pupils."

"A teacher?"

"A tutor for hire, specifically. Ah, pardon me. I am Theobald Dencourt. I work as a tutor. I often travel around Virdis lending my services, typically to noble families and the like to help shape the minds of their children into enriched socialites. Those in power must learn to exercise their privileges with grace and humility, but above all with a level mind."

Caractacus glared. "And what do you get out it?"

"Aside from getting paid? I suppose seeing my students blossom in their studies is just as rewarding as a few gold coins." Theobald laughed. "I have had a number of promising students in my time. Though, two in particular stand out. Some of my brightest, and I say they're still shining to this day."

"How so?"

"Well, that awaits to be seen. Actually, I saw my last student mere weeks ago. Under rather awkward circumstances given I was dressed in prison rags and escaping."

"…" Caractacus raised his brow. "Forgive me, you don't look like the hardened convict type."

Theobald laughed. "Some messy arrangements here and there landed me in the not-so-good graces of the king, but the dungeon wasn't so bad. It was like sleeping underground. It's quite comforting. You could take a ten-year nap and feel refreshed."

"The king?" Caractacus glared. "Wait a minute. I remember hearing something about this whenever I left my cave. Back when I went to the trading outposts. Are you the guy responsible for the princess' disappearance in the Verde Kingdom?"

He chuckled. "I may have had a hand in her disappearance, but I never kidnapped her. Actually, between the two of us, she was never kidnapped. She just needed to get out of the castle for a bit. Some learning on the field would do her wonders."

"…" Caractacus threw a deadpan glare. "You are actually insane."

"Ah, but is it nothing more than an active creativity that labels me as insane?"

"Why would you tell me this?"

"Because you don't seem like the type who would make use of that information."

"…Shut up." He rolled his eyes. "Well, true, I guess. Dealing with anyone is a pain in the rear, much less a kingdom."

"Ah, the wonders of the world. It excites the mind to discover what marvels wait to meet us." Theobald leaned forward. "But I wouldn't want to bore you with myself. What brings someone like you all the way out here?"

"That's none of your business."

"Perhaps not, but then that just makes me an impartial third party. I have no concerns with your story, nor you with mine. You seem like someone who wishes to rant about his troubles. We're just two travelers who happen to cross paths. Spinning a yarn or two wouldn't hurt."

"…" Caractacus glared. "You promise you're not just scouting me out before throwing a cage over my head?"

"You have my word as a scholar."

"…" He sighed and scratched his head. "Well, where do I begin?"

Year 902 – Haunted Willows

"Heads up, Caractacus!"

BAM!

Caractacus faltered over as a ball pinged off the back of his head, knocking him face first into the pile of scrap he had accumulated around the village. He rubbed his head before scowling at the kickball that had unceremoniously assaulted him. He threw a tarp over his project before shooting his gaze over at the Marill, Geodude, Illumise, and Skarmory waving him down.

"Can we have our ball back, man?" the teenage Skarmory yelled.

Caractacus picked the ball up, but didn't throw it back. He scowled and shouted, "Can't you see I'm busy with something? Take your nonsense game somewhere else!" He tossed the ball up, spun around, and bucked it with his hindleg.

The Geodude jumped to catch it, but was sent flying back and rolling across the ground. His friends stared at the dizzy rock monster in astonishment before looking back at Caractacus. The hound expected them to be intimidated by his brash response, which was what he was going for. Instead…

"So cool!" the Marill exclaimed.

Caractacus recoiled in bewilderment. "Excusez-moi?"

Skarmory grinned. "Man, that was an awesome kick! You play ball, too?"

"You must be super strong!" the Illumise cheered.

The Geodude, though still dizzy, shakily gave a thumbs up. "R-Righteous…"

Feeling a bit self-conscious, Caractacus hid his blush and rubbed the back of his head. "I, well…it's nothing really special. Just a basic application of physics."

"Eh?" the children gasped in confusion.

He groaned and slapped himself. "Well, when you hit me in the head with that accursed toy, I was able to determine its mass, elasticity, durability, etcetera. I figured where would be the best spot to strike to give maximum force and used the stronger of my hindlegs to deal said force. Accounting for wind resistance, speed, and…" He paused as the kids stared at him with shining eyes, which creeped him out a bit. "Uhhh…"

"Can you teach us how to kick better?" the Marill exclaimed. "Please, please, please!"

Caractacus groaned. "I said I'm busy. Find someone else to pester."

Skarmory smirked. "Eyy, come on, man. With someone as smart as you, you'll be teaching us to kick to the moon in no time."

"First of all, I will not be manipulated by flattery no matter how true that is. Secondly, it is physically impossible for any of you to kick that ball to the moon. And thirdly—"

"Wait, does that mean someone CAN kick a ball to the moon?" Illumise asked.

Caractacus facepalmed and groaned. "Technically, it's impossible." He rolled his eyes and waved his paw flippantly. "Buuuut, also technically, the right combination of factors could theoretically create a kick strong enough to send a ball hurtling toward the moon. Though, it's a bit more complicated than that as, contrary to what some idiot astronomers will tell you, the moon is a lot further away than what is currently observable. You can actually determine this on your own by—"

"We should kick the ball to the moon!" the Marille exclaimed.

"Yeah!" the other kids cheered.

"Weren't you listening to a thing I just said?!" Caractacus snapped.

Marill grinned at Caractacus. "Caracaracratus!"

"Get my name right, you twerp!"

"Want to help us kick a ball into space?"

"I just said—"

Skarmory smirked. "You did claim it to be technically possible, unless you're actually not as smart as you claim."

Caractacus gnashed his teeth. "And now you've resorted to testing my ego. How childish."

"Please, Mr. Cactus! Please!" the children pleaded.

"It's Caractacus! It's not that hard to pronou—" He stopped himself and took a deep breath. He ran a paw down his face and shook his head. "Ugh, fiiiine. You get me for one hour. That's it. Deal?"

"WOO!" The children turned and ran off with their ball. "We're kicking a ball to the moon!"

"…" Caractacus groaned, but couldn't help the tired smile on his face. "I hate kids," he said through his laughter. "Alright, you brats, wait up!" He followed after them, putting aside his secret project for the moment.

"Alright, load her up!"

Caractacus groaned as he carried a bundle of crops on his back, dropping them off in the wagon. The two Abomasnow brothers did most of the heavy lifting while the Venusaur, Sunflora, and Ludicolo harvested and tied the crops up. Caractacus was assigned to help the brothers, much to his chagrin.

He should be focusing on his project, not wasting his time farming.

"Alright, everyone! Who wants lemonade?"

Though, there were some benefits to swallowing his pride.

He finished loading the wagon as the Gothitelle came by with several pitchers of lemonade hovering alongside her. The farmers gathered around to get themselves a glass, collectively calling her 'Ma' in thanks. Aside from the brothers, Caractacus was pretty sure no one in the village was related to each other, but it seemed everyone universally called the Gothitelle that.

Still, tempted by the refreshing beverage, Caractacus walked over and took a glass out of the air. He guzzled down the lemonade greedily, feeling his woes drown in its sweet taste. He sighed in relief.

The Gothitelle smiled. "Satisfied, Caractacus?"

He glared. "Shut up."

She laughed and poured him another glass. "Be sure to keep your strength up. I'll be cooking up a big meal with this week's harvest."

Venusaur licked her lips in delight. "Oh, your homemade meals know how to get my stomach racing!"

Sunflora snickered, stabbing his pitchfork into the ground. "I'll be needing a bowl three times my size for the appetite I'm working up."

Ludicolo clapped excitedly. "Ma's food is the best around!"

The Abomasnow brothers finished their lemonade and handed it back to Ma. "Alright, five more minutes, you lot," one of the brothers said.

"We still got a big haul to get through. Should be done in a few more hours," the other reminded.

"Right!" they cheered.

Caractacus groaned. "Yay."

Everyone gradually finished off their lemonade before heading back to work. Caractacus stayed behind, taking delicate sips from his glass as his mind wandered back to a list of supplies he needed. He still needed some ingredients for the concoction he was brewing up. Best place to get that would be the kitchen—

"You hate yard work, don't you?"

Caractacus inhaled his lemonade in surprise and coughed. He slapped his chest a couple times before looking up at the Gothitelle. "Eh?"

She smiled. "You don't hide your emotions very well."

"…" He scoffed and looked away. "I don't mind working outside, but I prefer building things, not breaking my back to carry vegetables."

"Hmm, that so? Well, there's nothing to really construct around here, but I can offer the next best thing. How about you help me in the kitchen today?"

"…" Caractacus sipped his lemonade, trying to hide the embarrassed blush on his face. "I, uh…"

"Hmm?"

"I…don't know how to cook."

She smiled. "Oh?"

"I usually just get food from my clients or…burn whatever I have on me until it's somewhat edible."

"Is that all? That's nothing to be ashamed of."

He scowled. "I'm not ashamed or anything! I just don't need to—"

"Nonsense!" She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him toward her hut. "Everyone should know how to cook. It's an important life skill."

"I don't want to!"

"Would you rather stay out here with the farm work?"

"…"

"That's what I thought. Come on, I'll teach you every step of the way. You'll get it down in no time."

"…" Caractacus sipped on his lemonade in silence as he allowed himself to be dragged inside. He wouldn't admit it, but it might be nice to learn how to make something other than a burnt sandwich.

"…After that jackass scolded me, he just let me walk away. So, I did." Caractacus finished off the last of his meal, handing his plate back to Theobald before curling up in front of the fire, glaring into its warm, orange glow. "And, well, you know how I ended up here."

Theobald set the plate aside. "You and your friends had quite the adventure together."

"Tch. They're not my friends. I've barely known them for longer than a few weeks. They were a convenient way for me to find my—"

"Your other friend?"

"My business acquaintance."

Theobald laughed. "My apologies."

Caractacus sighed. "Those idiots are probably hurtling themselves into danger as we speak. Heh. Well, it was bound to happen one way or the other."

"And you never once considered going back to them? They seem like they could've used your help to find their friend."

"As if." Caractacus sat up and bit down on his right paw. After a bit of twisting and pulling, he grunted as he pulled it off. Underneath the prosthetic was a peach-colored stump devoid of fur and scarred from where a biological paw once was. Two metal rings were surgically attached to the stump, made to lock the paw and keep it from twisting off without his consent. He tossed the paw over the fire.

Theobald caught and examined the prosthetic. "Incredible. How does it operate? Normally, Grass-Types graft plant matter with wooden prosthetics to simulate lost or damaged nerves."

Caractacus cradled his stump with a saddened look. "I use metal wiring with a high concentration of elementium. They better conduct the body's bioelectricity. It's not perfect. If you were right-handed and needed a prosthetic, you won't have the same motor functions as before. It grants enough dexterity to perform basic functions like walking and holding objects. Though, I'm sought out to make weapons like literal hand cannons, so I rarely get clients asking for a new hand."

Theobald peeked inside the prosthetic. "You even outfitted it with an internal lining to keep it from burning your skin from heat or frostbite. You thought ahead."

Caractacus glared. "Well, not really. These are the latest models I made for myself a couple years ago. The originals resembled pirate hooks more than actual paws. Wasn't like I was thinking about comfort. I just needed to walk again."

"What of your jaw?"

Caractacus tapped it. "This was a nightmare. The skin was practically incinerated off the bottom of my face. I spent a good several months with my jaw wrapped shut and eating liquified garbage before I could get to fixing this. My tongue was damaged, but salvageable. I had to design several prototypes that would allow proper flexibility and ease of comfort so as to not cause damage to my face. Artificial metal teeth that didn't obstruct sound. Properly fitted around the remains of my jaw. A lot of surgery on the damaged nerves. I didn't have access to anesthesia, you know. I did all of this in a cave with whatever scraps I could barter for from the Freaks out there. I powered through an ungodly amount of pain just to fix up my jaw, all so I could finally scream my frustrations at this damned world for cursing me to the Outlands." He breathed out his frustrations and eased his tone. "Point is, my jaw is seventy percent metal and thirty percent whatever wasn't turned to ash."

Theobald frowned. "That must've been a troubling experience."

"Wow, you really are a genius."

He chuckled and handed the hound back his prosthetic. "Though, it seems to not have ruined your sense of humor."

Caractacus motioned to reattach his prosthetic, but hesitated. He stared at his stump for a moment before sighing and setting the metal paw atop Alpha. He massaged the scars gently. "I…I have never been in so much ungodly pain in my life. I literally had to drag myself through the Outlands until I found my way to Copper Gorge. I should've died, but…" He shook his head. "I really should've died that day."

"Is that why you value your defenses so? You seemed especially enthusiastic discussing your…Negative Space, was it?"

The Boltund chuckled softly. "Did I get carried away with that?" He glared at the sky. "I made it to counter that jackal that's been hunting me, but I really made it because I didn't want to get hurt again. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat feeling the phantoms of my old limbs only to remember they're just metal. I spent years cowering at the slightest thing despite knowing my Negative Space was flawless." He gritted his teeth. "How stupid of me to overlook Phantom Force's ability to bypass the main component of my barrier. That…That accursed mercenary. I can still hear his incessant taunting."

Theobald closed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "One who possesses great intellect can often be left with an insufficient wisdom."

Caractacus scowled. "Is that your idea of an insult?"

"Do you see the two as similar concepts?"

"Similar in a generic sense, sure, but they're completely different concepts."

Theobald nodded. "So, would you say you possess great wisdom?"

"…" Caractacus huffed. "I'm not playing your inane games, old man."

"Now you're definitely sounding like one of my former students." Theobald shook his head. "A wise man knows when to play the fool. We can often hold ourselves to greater achievements, even as undeserving as they are. Maybe it's for a sense of accomplishment. Or perhaps acknowledgment. Or even to remove ourselves from a level of inferiority, even if it is only a performance on stage. Ah, but when does the play end? When the actor ceases playing their role, or when the role evolves into the actor?"

"What are you talking about?" Caractacus groaned.

"Could a fool truly be called intelligent? I'd say yes. After all, what is intelligence? If it's simply academics and book learning, we'd finish our morning tea in less than a minute. But everyone exceeds at something. A master of the sciences. A renowned botanist. Heh, even someone who has a wild expertise in a limited niche could be considered intelligent. A fool can fail at many things, but perhaps they can compose a masterful score atop the grand piano despite never playing the instrument once in their lives. It is unwise for a fool to believe their shallow performance, but it is also unwise for us to think the fool as nothing more than his role."

"…" Caractacus narrowed his eyes.

"Tell me, my scowling friend, do you think your acquaintances as fools?"

"…Is this some screwed up therapy session or something?"

Theobald smiled. "I am merely a traveling scholar who wishes to converse. That is all."

"Why would you care what I think about those idiots? They're probably dead by now. They're not my problem. They never were."

"So, separating yourself from them was the intelligent move?"

Caractacus scowled. "Oh, don't try to pull that stunt with me. Let me guess: you're trying to convince me I'm being the fool who's pretending to be smart? Yeah, sure, makes total sense when my options set me down on a blood-soaked path against a crime syndicate and the fangs of a notorious gang leader who apparently flattened the guy that nearly killed me."

Theobald shrugged. "I wasn't going to suggest such things. I am asking if you regret your decision or not."

"Why should I regret anything? I'm alive. I shouldn't be, but I'm alive, and it's going to stay that way once I find a permanent solution to my problem."

Theobald scratched his chin. "Then I suppose you made the correct decision. You are, indeed, still alive. You should cherish your accomplishment."

"Finally talking sense?" Caractacus scowled at his stump. "It's better to be alone. At least when I screw up, it's my bad judgment I have to correct. But people? They just make things worse. You can't trust anyone, especially when even the supposedly unbreakable bonds of family won't cut it." He slapped himself and groaned. "That damned monkey. I can't stop thinking about what she said. How dare she bring up my hatred for that vile woman…"

Theobald narrowed his eyes. "You don't value bonds, young Boltund?"

"I value my mind and self-preservation. What else is there? Anything else is beneath me. As long as I'm still alive, I can continue to evolve in my knowledge."

"And what purpose does that knowledge serve?"

"The purpose of understanding everything. What else is there?"

Theobald smiled. "You know, I hold a similar goal. I, too, wish to understand the nature of our world. I wish to understand everything." He took off his spectacles and polished them. "In truth, that's the only thing that has been on my mind in a long time. When you get to my age, you start contemplating your existence. The only thing a man like me can do is think. Think of my place in the world. The greater beyond."

Caractacus glared. "I'm sensing a but in all this."

"But what purpose is there in understanding everything? I don't mean to say it isn't an admirable goal, but is it a purely selfish goal? In truth, I use my vast experiences to learn the world. Actually, I do quite a bit of traveling. I learned how to sail a boat. Built one, even. Traveled to various regions to see the developing world. Though, I can't help coming back to my old stomping grounds."

"What's your point?"

"A library shouldn't be built for the sole purpose of one person. Young Boltund, do you wish to harbor the world's secrets for yourself? Do you wish to hold the title of the smartest? Is your goal to simply horde every piece of information about our vast world for yourself?"

"…" Caractacus looked down.

"Or is it that you still don't understand your true purpose?"

"Tch. Why should you care? What does it matter how I live my life? Is there something wrong with me wanting to learn everything alone? Is there something wrong with me wanting to be alone?! Am I supposed to be forced to make friends with a world full of backstabbers and liars and manipulators?! What true purpose is there?! I never had a purpose! Everyone in this damned world is a self-serving tyrant! I was mutilated because someone hired a bounty hunter to collect me! And because of that, I have to live with the guilt of killing my only fam—"

He caught himself, the words hanging in his throat like a grapefruit. He swallowed back the venom and fell back on his rear to catch his breath. Theobald observed the trembling Boltund closely as tears dripped down his snout.

"F-Fuuuuuck…" He vigorously ran his sleeve across his eyes, shuddering as more tears broke out. "D-Damn it…damn it…"

"Your heart carries a great weight upon it, young man. Why do you continue to burden yourself with it?"

Caractacus clenched his teeth. "It's my fault. It's my fault…" He fell to the ground, laying his face in his forelegs. "It's all my fault."

Year 902 – Haunted Willows, the Outlands, Night

It took a great deal of time for Caractacus to gather everything he needed in secret, but he finished his project. With the threat of the bounty hunter coming to get him at any time, he needed a way to guarantee his safety. To end the mad jackal's chase.

With a combination of scraps and cooking items he acquired, he was able to make rudimentary bombs that should pack a devastating blast. He had to run some tests with smaller models, a difficult task without being noticed. After that, he used Dig to burrow the bombs all across Haunted Willows, lining them up to not only cut off escape, but to burn everything caught in the center.

Caractacus pulled himself out of the ground after rigging the last bomb. He shook the dirt off his fur and clothes before pulling the wire and wrapping it around a nearby tree. All he would need was a spark, and his mad pursuer will be burnt to a crisp while he safely watches behind Protect.

"Let's see you escape this, you bastard," he whispered. He finished tying the wire down and stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Alright, now I just need to plan a route and a way to buy myself time if he ever—"

"Hey, Caracaracaractus!"

He yelped and spun around. To his shock, the entire Haunted Willows community was standing right before him. His eyes darted between them and the wire, wondering if they caught on to his scheming.

"What are you doing?" the Marill asked curiously.

Caractacus blinked twice. "I…like to dig holes?" He kicked at the hole until the dirt collapsed inward. "Annnnd filling them back up?"

"…Neat!" As Caractacus breathed a sigh of relief, the Marill grabbed his paw and pulled him. "Come on, we want to show you something!"

Caractacus glared. "Why are you all out so late in the first place?"

Ma giggled. "Well, we all know how crabby you've been during your stay here, so we all pitched in a bit to make you feel a bit more welcomed."

"…" Caractacus frowned. "Eh?"

Mandibuzz squawked with laughter. "Just follow us, you runt." She picked up the little Magby in her wing and headed the group.

Caractacus allowed himself to be pulled by the Marill, looking back warily at his trap. "Oh boy…"

"Surprise!"

Caractacus sat on his haunches in astonishment. Wedged in the back of Haunted Willows, completely out of the hound's sight since his arrival, was a fully constructed hut with his name (horribly misspelled) written on the door. It had a porch and a makeshift bell attached beside the door.

"W…What?" he mumbled.

The Skarmory snickered. "Hey, look at that, he's speechless."

The Abomasnow brothers proudly flexed their muscles. "You can thank us for this!" one brother said.

"We've been working on this during the night," the second brother explained.

"And we helped with the painting," the Venusaur said with the Sunflora nodding in agreement.

Ma grinned. "And the children donated some of their things to make your hut move lively. Here, have a look."

Caractacus walked forward, still lost in his disbelief, as he was let inside. The hut came equipped with a bed, a rug, some shelves, and a chest full of toys sitting at the foot of the bed. On the other side of the hut was a makeshift workstation with tools already hanging on the wall.

"We know how much you like building stuff, so we polished up some old tools and gave them to you," the Ludicolo explained. "It's not much, but we all started out from nothing."

Marill grinned. "And we know how much you hate company, so we even built in at the back of the village to give you some privacy. We hope you like it!"

Caractacus looked back at the community in awe, then let his eyes roam around the room. "This…This is all mine?"

Ma nodded. "Of course. You're part of the family now. We all had our experiences in and out of the Outlands. We are a group who just wanted to be free from the constraints of society, but wanted to distance ourselves from its worst traits. This little isolated patch of land is, in a way, our own kingdom. We understand you've had your troubles, so we want you to feel as comfortable as possible."

Mandibuzz snickered. "Even though you're a foulmouthed brat, we look out for each other out here, so we expect the same courtesy from you, sonny."

Caractacus clutched at his shirt, feeling an odd thumping in his chest. What was this feeling that was overwhelming him so much? Why did it hurt? And why did it also feel…gratifying? It was just a wooden hut with a bunch of junk needlessly handed off to him. Why was he feeling such intensity over something so meaningless?

"I…I acknowledge this gift and humbly accept it," he mumbled unsurely.

Mandibuzz laughed. "Sonny can't even work up a proper thank you."

Ma laughed. "Don't tease him, Jenette. He's just surprised." She bowed to the Boltund. "We'll leave you to get comfortable. Goodnight, Caractacus."

"Night, Caractacus!" the community exclaimed, piling out the door one-by-one.

Caractacus watched them leave through his peripherals, still taking in the sight of his new room. His gaze caught sight of the Marill, who was the last to leave.

"…Hey. Silvester."

The Marill stopped and looked back with a grin. "Gee, I was beginning to think you never learned my name."

Caractacus glanced over his shoulder. "I…well, about when we first met. I…probably would've left had you not invited me like you did. I'm not used to this much kindness. These things aren't really easy for me, so—"

"You don't have to say it, Caracaracaractus!" Silvester grinned. "You're welcome!"

"…" Caractacus smiled sadly. "Yeah."

"Have a good night!" He hopped out the door and scampered off back to his abode.

The Boltund's ears drooped as the young Marill's footsteps fell quieter and quieter, leaving him in silence. He lifted his gaze upon his hut. His hut. A home for him. What a foreign concept. What was a home? He never had one to call his own. It just…wasn't a privilege allowed to him. What did he do to be deserving of such a gift?

Was this a trick? Was this manipulation? Were they persuading him to stay, to use his talents in service of Haunted Willows? It had to be. Why else would anyone gift him such kindness? Why…would anyone treat him as an equal? He was just a tool for the success of others.

But then, why go through all this effort just for a trick?

Was this truly a genuine gift? To welcome this stranger within their walls?

"…" Caractacus stared at the floor, his eyes shaking as he visualized the bombs planted under the ground. He could see the efforts of his handiwork, and it made his stomach twist in knots.

This was how he repaid their kindness?

"What am I doing?"

He let out a sigh and walked outside, heading toward the tree where the fuse was tied and making sure no one was sneaking up on him. He ripped the wire from the tree and plucked it from the ground. Stashing it in his breast pocket, he shook his head and walked back to his hut.

"Tomorrow."

He kicked the door shut and threw himself onto his bed, wrapping himself under the warm, comforting sheets.

"Tomorrow. Dig up the bombs. Dismantle them. This never happened."

He closed his eyes and let himself melt into the mattress, never dropping his guard but allowing himself to drift into slumber with a greater calm upon his mind.

"Maybe I can give this a try. Not surviving. Just…living."

"It's all my fault…it's all my fault…it's all my fault…"

Theobald stared sadly at the quivering Boltund. Though he wanted to comfort the young man, he felt it best to respect his boundaries and let him ride out the emotions. Caractacus' crying seemed to stir Alpha from its slumber. It floated closer to the Boltund's side, careful not to drop his prosthetic, and nudged the whimpering hound.

Caractacus jolted from the contact, but relaxed when he saw it was only the sentient cube. "O-Oh. Alpha. Y-You're awake." He sat up and wiped his eyes. "I…apologize you have to see me like this."

Alpha hummed something before nudging the hound again.

"A-Alright, alright, stop. Good grief."

Theobald smiled softly. "You seem to have a close relationship with that peculiar creature, Young MacGyver."

"…" Caractacus sighed. "So, you really do know who I am."

"I know plenty about you. Perhaps even more than you do. For example, I happen to know your grandfather, Heron MacGyver. And your mother, Circe MacGyver."

"…" Caractacus glared. "So, that's what that damned jackal was talking about. Tch. Circe. That's the name of my mother. Wonderful. A name for the neglector. You wouldn't happen to know the name of my father?"

"Likely not. I doubt your father even knows you exist given how well your mother covered up your disappearance."

"Tch. And you knew about this?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I knew, otherwise I would've intervened. Though, I learned of your existence once you were older and more savvy of the Outlands."

"And you didn't do anything to get me away from here?"

"Would you have wanted my help?"

"…" Caractacus looked aside.

"I am sorry what happened to you, Caractacus. Truly, I am. See, for all the good I wish I could do, the world is simply too big. Plus, well, I'm no fighter. Wouldn't have lasted against some of your former clients. I have many other obligations that I attend to."

"And you're camping out in this hellhole because…?"

Theobald laughed. "A man can take a vacation however he pleases. Or perhaps fate brought us together."

"There is no such thing as fate."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Could be another scientific phenomenon, right?"

"…What's your point?"

"We met each other by unusual circumstances, and I'd say your encounter with those friends—ahem, acquaintances of yours was another turning of fate's wheels. But fate can be decided by one of strong will."

Caractacus raised his brow. "How so?"

"Do you know why self-fulfilling prophecies in legend become so? It's because our darker impulses to prevent such tragedy lead us to fulfilling those prophecies. A son destined to kill their father, thus the father rids himself of his son. A series of matters determined by the wills of others leads to a young man taking up arms in a war against an enemy kingdom and slaying the king, not knowing that king was his true father. Ask any psychic, and they'll tell you future vision becomes less accurate the further into the future they see. Because you glimpse at that future knowledge, it becomes a coin toss. Do you act on your immediate impulses to prevent that future, or do you determine the future you wish?"

"Acting to prevent or moving to create…" Caractacus surmised. "Hyper-fixating to prevent a future rather than just creating the future you want." He sighed. "I would rather survive than live my life because I've always believed I never had a choice."

Theobald smiled. "Your friends are charging headfirst into danger to save their lost ally. They could very well be charging into fate's destined path, but all they care for is creating a future where they save her." He frowned. "That's the danger of fixation: you often become blind to the trappings you lead yourself towards. Fixation on preventing a terrible future can often lead to obsession."

"The very thing Burkhard worried of about Evelot," Caractacus mumbled.

"Fate is not always kind to us lowly beings. Our impulses to do what we believe is right may often lead to an early disaster. Conversely, it's those same impulses that make some of the strongest heroes of legend. The difference is in how we choose to respond to the destined road ahead. To follow that path, or to veer off into the unknown."

"…" Caractacus closed his eyes and sighed. "What's your point?"

"You may think the world has decided your fate, but you are not bound by a contract or the gangs of the Outlands. You are alone, thus you decide how to continue down your path. You could continue to live in isolation and away from those who would bring you harm, or jump into the fray at the risk of your own life to save another. Speaking purely logical, I'd say prioritizing my safety would be the only reasonable path."

"…"

"But some part of you did look back when you left. You hide behind that barrier because you're scared of getting too close to someone again. You don't want to be the survivor who mourns for the dead. You don't want to be the gravedigger. Who would want to bury the bodies of their friends?"

"…" Caractacus covered his eyes with his stump, shuddering with tears. "Th-Those idiots aren't my…"

Theobald glared. "I've had to bury a mountain of bodies in my time, Young MacGyver. I know the pain of losing loved ones. Death…Death is something I've had to grapple with for a long, long time. You wouldn't be wrong to continue in your isolation, but…are you willing to let them die even if there's the slightest of chances your intervention will make the difference?"

The hound said nothing as he dried his tears. How could he allow himself to look so vulnerable in front of a stranger? How could he allow himself to be beaten so easily? He did everything to stay safe. He did everything to forget the pain that tore his body years ago. He rebuilt himself stronger than ever.

Everything but his heart had been rebuilt.

"…Evelot didn't deserve any of this," he mumbled. "And those three would do anything to protect her. This world is cruel and unjust, and all I've done is made it worse by placating the demands of those who seek to sink this world into further strife. Does that make me a monster?"

Theobald glared. "What truly defines a monster? Does the soldier who slaughters enemy troops stay up at night wracked with the guilt of their deaths on his hands? Or does he sleep soundly knowing his actions protected the lives of his valued comrades and subjects waiting for his triumphant return? Does the monster who dwells in the darkest caverns of the underworld seek bloodlust? Or has it grown colder from years of torment, seeking only to protect itself? Some men become monsters because it may be the only path that's required. Are you a monster, Caractacus MacGyver?"

"…The Broken Glass Alchemical Company is made up of monsters. And they're willing to do anything to survive, just like me."

"Then how will you respond?"

Caractacus hung on the Nidoking's question for a moment, pondering what path he should take. Finding shelter was the most logical conclusion. Anywhere that could shield him from the watchful eyes of his hunters. They clearly sought something of great importance to seek out his brilliant mind. Letting that fall into the wrong hands was a disaster waiting to happen.

But wouldn't the same apply to Evelot's capture?

As he sorted through his scattered thoughts, he brushed his paw against his coat to smooth out the wrinkles. As he did, however, he felt something loose inside the inner pocket. He wanted to pay it no mind as it wasn't uncommon for loose scrap to be inside his coat, but he peeked inside via his natural curiosity. To his surprise, a pink glow emanated from the inner pocket.

"What the…?" He dug his paw inside and plucked a chipped piece of metal wrapped in a pink aura. "When did this…?"

He recalled his confrontation with Amos. Right after the Gligar told him off, he distinctly remembered Amos rummaging through his coat before pushing him away. Caractacus just assumed it was Amos' way of roughing him up, but now it was clear he left the hound a gift.

"Is this…a bullet fragment?" He glared. "Wait, is this coated with…?"

"Tell me, Young MacGyver." Caractacus looked up at Theobald, who stood up and brushed the sand off his robes. He smiled sagely at the Boltund, his features being illuminated by the flickering glow of the fire. "What is the next logical step on your journey?"

Caractacus glanced at the fragment again, its glow glimmering in his eyes. With a scoff, he pocketed the fragment and picked up his prosthetic, screwing it back over his stump before standing. Alpha floated beside the determined Boltund, who glared up at the Nidoking with his mind racing with calculations and plans. He only had one thing on his mind now.

And now he only had one thing to say to his savior.

"Where's the highest point I can jump off from here? I need to get somewhere. Fast."