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Hi all,

Here's the next chapter. Ash investigates Birdee for an inevitable confrontation.

Chapter 14

Ash stood in Essie's living room, studying the scattered toys across the floor. Dolls lay abandoned mid-tea party, their plastic cups still arranged in a circle. Nothing seemed disturbed—just the natural chaos of a home where a child had been left unsupervised.

He picked up a teddy bear, noting how it had been carefully positioned on the sofa, facing the door. Was Essie leaving it there to watch for her mother's return?

Ash moved to the kitchen, pulling open cupboard doors one by one. All empty. The fridge revealed the same story—bare shelves with only some mouldy cheese and condiments. His brow furrowed as he considered the implications. How had Essie been feeding herself for the past few days?

The hallway led him to Sarah's room, Essie's mother. The bed was still made, though wrinkled as if someone had been lying on top of it. A work uniform hung on the wardrobe door—the logo of a local restaurant visible on the breast pocket. After a few minutes of searching through drawers and cabinets, he found a journal tucked away in her bedside drawer, hidden beneath some old letters.

He hesitated before opening it, feeling like an intruder. But if Sarah had been murdered, any detail could be important.

He flipped through the journal to the final entry. It was mundane—notes about groceries and plans for the weekend. He flipped backwards through the pages, scanning for anything relevant. An entry from two weeks ago caught his eye:

I can't sleep again. Keep thinking about what happened to Mary a few months ago The way Birdee watched her apartment in the weeks before she died. How he'd stand in the shadows for hours, just staring at her door. I tried to convince myself he was just being neighbourly, keeping an eye out. But then I remembered catching him following her down the stairs that morning.

Two days later they found her body. The Rangers said she slipped. Called it a tragic accident. But I helped dress her for the funeral—saw the bruises around her neck. Perfect finger marks, like someone had grabbed her from behind.

I've been quiet too long. Months of pretending I didn't see anything. But yesterday I spotted Birdee watching another tenant's apartment like he watched Mary's. I should tell someone. The police? The Rangers? The landlord maybe?

But who would believe me? I have no proof except what I saw, and my word against his. Still, I have to do something. Maybe if I gather enough evidence first.

I'll start keeping detailed notes. Times, dates, everything I see him do. If I'm wrong, no harm done. But if I'm right, then I can put a stop to these murders…

Ash snapped the journal shut. It wasn't concrete evidence, but it supported his growing suspicions about Birdee. Had the old man discovered Sarah was watching him?

A sharp sense of unease filtered through his bond with Blitz. He'd left the Magnemite at his apartment to watch over his mum and Essie. The feeling wasn't urgent enough to suggest immediate danger, but something had unsettled the Pokemon.

Ash tucked the journal under his shirt and hurried out. He took the stairs two at a time but forced himself to slow as he approached his door. Blitz's impression hadn't escalated to genuine alarm, which meant whatever was happening didn't require him to bust the door down.

He found his mum, Essie, Blitz, and—his jaw clenched—Birdee. The old man turned at his entrance, smiling pleasantly.

"Afternoon, Ash. Out and about?"

"Just running some errands," Ash said. "What brings you by?"

"Word gets around about your mum's chocolate cake." Birdee's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Thought I'd invite myself over for a taste."

"How neighbourly of you."

"Well, we should look after each other in this complex, shouldn't we?" Birdee accepted a slice of cake from Delia. "Never know when you might need help."

Ash leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. A spike of liquid metal formed against his palm, hidden from view. He couldn't sense any cultivation energy from Birdee, but that only made him more wary. The most dangerous predators were often the ones that seemed harmless.

"Speaking of neighbours," Birdee continued, "I hardly see young Essie's mother these days. Everything alright there?"

Essie, who had been edging steadily away from Birdee throughout the conversation, bumped into a cabinet. The noise made her jump. Her hands trembled as she gripped the counter edge.

Delia shot Ash a questioning glance but maintained her pleasant smile. "More tea, Birdee?"

"No, thank you." He set down his empty plate. "Excellent cake, by the way. The secret ingredient wouldn't happen to be cardamom, would it?"

"It's a family secret."

"Ah, well. We all have those, don't we?" Birdee's smile never wavered. "Best be going. Thank you for the hospitality."

Ash held his position in the doorway, forcing Birdee to squeeze past. For a moment, their eyes met. The old man's gaze held none of its usual warmth.

After he left, Delia immediately went to comfort Essie. "What's going on, Ash? You brought this girl here and disappeared without explanation."

"Essie, go play with Blitz in the living room," Ash said.

He waited until she was out of earshot before explaining the situation to his mum, including his suspicions about Birdee and what he'd found in Sarah's journal.

"We should contact the police," Delia said.

Ash shook his head. "The regular police only handle minor crimes. Serious cases go to the Rangers, and they answer directly to the mayor. I don't trust any of them."

"What about James? It's his property."

"I want to investigate more first. There might be a reasonable explanation for Sarah's disappearance." Ash ran a hand through his hair. "But we need to move out before I start digging. I don't want Birdee getting suspicious and doing something to you."

"I think it might be too late for that," Delia said. "He's never visited before today. Those weren't friendly undercurrents I was picking up."

Ash frowned. "You're right. But how did he catch on so quickly? He's not a cultivator. I couldn't sense anything from him at all."

"Are cultivators the only ones who can be competent and dangerous?"

Ash stared at the door, considering his mother's words. The old man hardly looked threatening, yet something about him set every instinct on edge. How had he managed to commit murders for so long without being caught?

"I'll figure it out," Ash said. "Can you look after Essie for now? We'll need to sort out proper arrangements for her once this is settled."

"Of course." Delia glanced towards the kitchen. "Poor thing looks half-starved. I'll start dinner."

Ash found Essie in the living room, sitting cross-legged while Blitz hovered nearby. He lowered himself to the floor beside her.

"May I ask you something?"

Essie shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"Why are you so afraid of Birdee? Did your mum warn you about him?"

The girl twisted the hem of her dress between her fingers, shoulders hunching.

"It's alright if you don't want to tell me," Ash added softly.

Essie drew a shaky breath. "Birdee came to our house the day Mum disappeared. For afternoon tea, just like today."

Ash frowned.

"I woke up that night when Mum screamed." Essie's voice dropped to a whisper. "I hid under my bed. Then I heard footsteps in the hallway. They weren't Mum's."

Essie paused, a look of clear struggle on her face as she tried to find the right words.

"The footsteps stopped outside my door. I could feel someone looking in. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn't stand it. When I finally looked..." She swallowed hard. "I could see their shoes. Nothing else."

"Did you recognise them?"

Essie nodded. "They were just like Birdee's. Those brown ones with the brass buckles that squeak when he walks."

Ash nodded. He'd noticed those shoes himself—distinctive enough that there was little doubt they belonged to Birdee

"He went back to Mum's room," Essie continued. "I covered my ears, but I could still hear things. I stayed under the bed all night. When I finally got up to check on Mum, she was gone."

Ash rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn't easy."

He stood to leave, but Essie's voice stopped him.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Ash turned slowly. How did you answer a question like that?

"I don't know, Essie. But I promise I'll find out." He paused. "Do you remember what time it was? When did you wake up?"

"Almost one in the morning."

Ash retreated to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Birdee's visit today followed the same pattern as his appearance at Sarah's apartment. The seemingly friendly pretext, the same underlying menace. The old man was methodical—that much was clear from the journal. He studied his victims before striking, learning their schedules, and identifying when they were most vulnerable.

He couldn't wait any longer. Every minute they remained here was another minute Birdee could act. The old man had shown his hand by visiting today—he was already watching them. He could have seen Ash heading for Sarah's apartment.

The decision settled over him like a cold weight. Tonight, after his mother and Essie were asleep, he would end this. One way or another, Birdee's murders would stop.

At midnight, Ash crept towards Birdee's door. Blitz hovered silently beside him while Bastion and Blade followed.

The night air felt heavy with anticipation. Even his Pokemon seemed affected by the tension.

Liquid metal flowed down his arm as he knelt before Birdee's door, the Steelium responding instantly to his will. The lock mechanism was old but well-maintained—the kind that required skill to pick rather than brute force. Ash shaped the metal into a thin pick and began manipulating the tumblers.

The lock yielded with a soft snap. Ash paused, counting heartbeats as he listened for movement inside. Nothing. He eased the door open. The apartment was pitch black, but his enhanced vision picked out shapes in the gloom.

His foot caught on something as he entered—a barely visible wire stretched across the threshold. A tripwire. His stomach dropped as he realised his mistake. Before he could shout a warning to his Pokemon, several mechanisms activated simultaneously. Metal clicked against metal as hidden contraptions sprang to life around them.

Ash dropped flat as crossbow bolts whistled overhead. They struck the doorframe, exactly where his chest had been moments before. More traps triggered in sequence—he heard the distinctive hiss of razor wire unspooling from hidden compartments in the walls.

"Blade, below!" Ash commanded through their bond, not daring to raise his voice.

The Drilbur reacted instantly, metal claws flashing in the darkness as it severed the wire before it could wrap around their legs. The razor-sharp cable whipped past harmlessly, its cut ends embedding themselves in the wooden floor with enough force to suggest it would have taken off their feet.

Blitz darted forward on Ash's mental command, summoning electricity between its magnets to illuminate the room. The sight froze Ash's blood. What had appeared to be a normal living room was an obstacle course of lethal ingenuity.

Pressure plates covered the floor, each connected to different weapons he could now see mounted in the walls and ceiling. Trip lines crisscrossed the space at various heights, some nearly invisible even to his enhanced vision. The furniture itself was rigged with deadly surprises—he spotted spring-loaded blades concealed in the chair arms.

"Bloody hell," Ash whispered. "He's been expecting company."

They advanced cautiously, careful not to make any noise.

A floorboard creaked overhead. Ash froze, hardly daring to breathe. Through the ceiling, he heard the soft scrape of furniture being moved. His heart hammered against his ribs—Birdee was awake and moving.

He gestured to his Pokemon, directing them towards the stairs with hand signals. Halfway up, Ash spotted a thin cord stretched across the steps. He traced its path to another crossbow mounted in the wall, aimed precisely at head height.

After safely navigating past it, they reached the upper floor without triggering any more traps, though Ash's nerves were frayed from the constant tension. Light spilled from beneath a door at the end of the hall. Ash approached silently, Steelium coating his arms in preparation for what lay ahead.

The door burst open before they reached it. Birdee emerged with shocking speed, a knife flashing in his hand. The blade struck Ash's chest—and skidded off the metal that emerged to deflect it.

Ash stumbled back, genuinely shocked by the old man's agility. Birdee pressed his advantage, each strike precise and purposeful. The knife sought vulnerable points—throat, eyes, joints. This was no amateur fighter.

Birdee's next attack came dangerously close to Ash's neck. The man might not be a cultivator, but he had combat training. His movements were economical, each motion flowing smoothly into the next.

Enough playing around. Ash formed a spike of Steelium, charging it with electricity. He feinted left, then drove the spike into Birdee's shoulder as the man moved to counter.

Birdee convulsed, his muscles seizing as the current overwhelmed his nervous system. The knife clattered to the floor as he collapsed.

"Who is this guy?"

Ash knelt beside Birdee's paralysed form and searched him. The old man's clothing revealed a small arsenal—a stiletto strapped to his ankle, twin push daggers crossed at the small of his back, and a folding knife that seemed purposely designed to be overlooked. Ash gathered the blades and hurled them through the open window.

"Bastion, watch him," Ash commanded. The Aron positioned itself beside Birdee's prone form.

Ash searched the bedroom methodically. The space was sparse but meticulously organised. A trunk beneath the bed yielded nothing but old blankets, and the wardrobe held neatly pressed clothes.

He paused at Birdee's writing desk, studying its worn surface. Like everything else in the room, it was immaculate—almost obsessively so.

Ash ran his fingers along the desk's edges, searching for inconsistencies. The craftsmanship was excellent but he detected a subtle difference in the wood grain along one side. He pressed firmly, feeling something give way with a soft click.

A hidden panel slid open in the desk's side, revealing a narrow compartment. The space was packed with macabre treasures—rings still bearing traces of dried blood, watches with their bands violently cut, wallets emptied of everything except photos of their owners. Trophies, Ash realised with growing disgust. Did one of these belong to Sarah?

Beneath these grim mementoes lay something even more damning—a stack of leather-bound notebooks, their pages filled with Birdee's handwriting.

The entries read like military reports—methodical observations documented with cold efficiency. Sarah's name appeared in the most recent notebook.

"Got you, you bastard," Ash whispered.

A knock at the front door had Ash exiting the bedroom. He opened it to find James standing there with an elderly man in a butler's uniform.

"Why have you summoned me at this ungodly hour?" James asked, stifling a yawn.

"I've caught your culprit", Ash replied.

He led them to the bedroom where Birdee lay unconscious.

"This is the old man who's been causing me so much trouble?" James asked.

"How did you know this man?"

James shrugged. "He's my tenant. Beyond that, I didn't know him at all."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? The first time I met him, the old man told me about your childhood. As if he knew you."

"What?"

"I figured you knew him personally. But then you told me you came to this city a few years ago. I didn't make the connection until a few hours ago, which is why I called you here."

Henry knelt down and began examining Birdee.

"It could be that Birdee is from the same place as you and just happened to come to the same city", Ash said, "but I thought that was unlikely".

James frowned. "I don't know this man but Jessebelle might."

"Who?"

"My fiancee."

"Master James", Henry interrupted, "this man has a tattoo on his wrist. He's from the Death Squad."

James cursed.

"Death Squad?" Ash asked.

James sighed. "They are my parent's private security force. Most aren't cultivators—just ordinary kids they turned into killers through brutal training. They specialise in taking down cultivators. But the training methods usually break something in them."

"Your parents are dicks."

James glanced at Birdee's unconscious form. "He must have been one of the trainers. It seems like he had a thirst for blood."

"Why is he here? Why is he killing people?"

"This is the work of my fiancee and my parents. They are trying to force me back to the fifth floor and settle down."

"By murdering people? Just what kind of psychos are they?"

"I'm not sure if killing people was part of the plan or if he acted on his own. My parents and fiancee are trying to affect my business interests by ruining my reputation. I never suspected it was this old man, though."

Ash paused as a realisation dawned on him. "You knew? You knew someone was killing people in your apartments because they were targeting you. And you did nothing."

James grimaced. "I only suspected. I didn't have any evidence."

"That's rubbish. A little girl in my apartment just lost her mum because you couldn't be bothered to investigate properly."

James looked away.

"You're going to take care of her. Your inaction made her an orphan."

As Ash headed for the door, James called after him.

"Wait. I'll sort the girl out. But I need to reward you too. What do you want?"

"Too tired for this," Ash said without turning back. "We'll talk later."

Ash checked his compass against James's map, confirming his direction. His destination was only a few kilometres away from his current position.

The morning's events kept replaying in Ash's mind. James had arrived just after sunrise. His first act had surprised everyone—he'd knelt down to Essie's level and produced a stuffed Teddiursa from nowhere with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his usual demeanour. Though Essie had remained silent, she'd clutched the toy tightly to her chest.

After asking Delia to care for Essie another day while he sorted out proper arrangements, James pulled Ash aside with his promised reward. He'd marked a location on Ash's map that lay deep in the forest.

The marked location, James explained, was home to a cultivator who specialised in physical training. His methods were reportedly brutal but extraordinarily effective at forging both body and mind into something stronger. James had attempted the training himself, lasting three days before giving up —the methods hadn't suited his temperament.

But he insisted Ash would be different. With his Steel-type affinity, the training would complement his natural abilities perfectly.

When Ash inquired about payment, James said he would cover the costs. However, he'd warned that convincing the cultivator to accept a student would be Ash's challenge. James wouldn't elaborate on what made someone an acceptable student.

A crash yanked Ash from his thoughts. His Pokemon tensed, sensing danger. Before he could decide whether to investigate, the noise grew closer.

Blade sent a warning through their bond. Ash dropped instantly. A blade of wind whistled overhead, cutting halfway through a massive tree trunk. The sheer power behind the attack made his stomach clench.

Another crash—a Pokemon slammed into the same tree. Ash didn't recognise the species. He and his Pokemon dove for the bushes, though he doubted it would help if the wild Pokemon detected them.

Then the attacker burst into view—a Scyther, its wicked blades gleaming as it propelled itself forward with powerful wing strokes. The Pokemon continued their battle in front of his eyes.

Ash pulled out his Pokedex. The second Pokemon was an Absol. Both Pokemon were level forty-two.

The battle that unfolded was unlike anything Ash had witnessed before. Scyther struck first, its blades whistling through the air as they met Absol's horn in a metallic clash that sent sparks flying. The impact echoed through the forest. The two Pokemon broke apart, circling each other with a predatory focus, each looking for an opening.

Absol made the next move, unleashing a blade of compressed wind. Scyther twisted its body mid-flight to slip between the deadly air currents. Without losing momentum, it brought both blades down in a savage X-Scissor attack. Blood sprayed from Absol's flank as the attack connected, staining its white fur crimson.

The injury sparked something primal in Absol. Its movements took on a desperate edge, becoming faster and more unpredictable. It feinted to the left, drawing Scyther's guard before suddenly lunging right. Its horn caught Scyther's wing, tearing through the delicate membrane. The Bug-type's shriek of pain turned into a battle cry as it converted its downward fall into a controlled spin, transforming itself into a whirlwind of flashing steel.

They met again and again in violent exchanges, neither Pokemon willing to yield. Absol's raw speed matched Scyther's aerial mastery blow for blow. Blood matted Absol's fur and dripped from Scyther's carapace, yet both fought on with undiminished ferocity.

The final clash came without warning. Absol's horn glowed with psychic energy as it unleashed a Psycho Cut. Simultaneously, Scyther crossed its blades, channelling its remaining strength into another X-Scissor. The attacks met in an explosion that knocked Ash off his feet and sent leaves raining from the canopy above.

When the dust finally settled, both Pokemon lay motionless on the forest floor. Their combat had carved a circle of destruction in the surrounding area—torn earth, slashed trees, and deep gouges in the ground marking their battlefield.

Ash emerged from his hiding spot. His first instinct when the fight began had been to retreat—two high-level Pokemon fighting wasn't something to take lightly. But some instinct had stopped him from leaving. Now he was glad he'd stayed.

He pulled out two Dusk Balls from his backpack. They'd been Kurt's final gift before he left the first floor. The old craftsman had explained they were specially designed to work in dark conditions, making them perfect for the dim forest.

Ash threw both balls simultaneously. They struck their targets, converting the Pokemon to energy in twin flashes of red light. The Dusk Balls dropped to the forest floor and began to shake. Ash counted each movement, hardly daring to breathe. One. Two. Three. Then stillness.

"Too easy," he muttered, retrieving the pokeballs.

His recent breakthrough to the Tempering Realm meant he could bond with another Pokemon, but the Scyther would have to wait. At level forty-two, it was far beyond his current ability to bond with. The Absol, though equally powerful, didn't interest him. It would fetch an excellent price as high-level Pokemon were always in demand.

Ash continued towards his destination. Twenty minutes of hiking brought him to another clearing where a simple wooden cabin stood, its timbers weathered by exposure.

"This has to be it."

He crossed the clearing. Just as he raised his hand to knock, an overwhelming pressure slammed into him from behind. He spun around to find a fist frozen an inch from his nose.

"Too slow," rasped a gravelly voice.

Ash took a step back from the old man. "Is that any way to greet someone?

"It's the only way. You can learn a lot about a person by throwing a fist in their face."

"I'll take your word for it. Are you Mustard?"

The old man barely reached Ash's height, but his presence filled the clearing. White hair swept back from a weathered face lined with age, though his build suggested someone half his years. His yellow training gi did little to hide his muscular frame.

"I'm Mustard," he confirmed. "Who's asking?"

Ash explained who he was and mentioned James's recommendation.

Mustard's face twisted in contempt. "James? That useless boy who quit after three days? Not exactly a glowing reference. Go home. I'm not interested."

"There must be some way to prove myself."

Mustard stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I have three trials for you. Pass them all, and I'll train you."

Ash nodded without hesitation.

"Right then." Mustard jabbed a finger into Ash's chest. "First trial—there's a bandit camp two kilometres east of here that has recently set up shop. They have become a nuisance but I can't be bothered dealing with them. Clear them out, and I'll tell you about the second trial."

Ash frowned. "How many bandits are we talking about?"

"At least four. Hard to say."

"Are they cultivators? What's their Pokemon's strength? Their camp layout?"

Mustard picked at his ear, examining whatever he found there with exaggerated interest.

"Asking too many questions. Wouldn't be much of a trial if I told you everything." He glanced at the sky. "You've got until sundown to sort them out or you fail the trial."

"Who'd be mad enough to take on a bandit camp alone?" Ash asked. "Seems like a waste of time."

"Come with me."

Mustard led him through the trees, stopping at a massive trunk that disappeared into the canopy above. "Could you knock this down with one punch?"

"Don't be daft," Ash said. "These trees are way too sturdy."

"Try it."

Ash decided to humour the man. Liquid metal flowed down his arm, hardening into a gleaming shell.

"Now that's interesting," Mustard murmured.

Ash threw his punch, metal-clad fist striking the trunk with enough force to make it shudder. The impact sent vibrations up his arm, but the tree barely shuddered.

"Pathetic." Mustard shook his head. "What's the point of that fancy ability if your body's too weak to use it properly? Watch."

The old man stepped forward and raised his fist until it barely touched the bark. There was a blur of movement, then a sound like a thunderclap. A massive crack split the air as the tree toppled sideways, its trunk sheared clean through.

Ash's eyes widened. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Time's wasting while you stand here asking questions." Mustard turned away. "Better get moving."

Ash crouched behind a fallen log, observing the bandit camp through a gap in the foliage. After an hour of surveillance, he had a decent grasp of their operation. Six bandits milled around the clearing, their weapons within easy reach. Three Pokemon patrolled the perimeter—a Growlithe, Croagunk, and Zangoose.

Their setup was professional. Tents were arranged in a defensive circle, the sight lines clear in every direction. A stream ran behind the camp, explaining why they'd chosen this spot. These weren't common thugs—their movements suggested they had plenty of experience.

"What do you reckon?" Ash whispered to Blitz, who hovered silently beside him.

A shout from the camp drew his attention. Two bandits were arguing over a card game while the others lounged nearby. Perfect—they were getting complacent.

Ash examined the landscape further while formulating a plan.

"Blade," he said, "tunnel under the camp. Come up between their tents when I signal."

The Drilbur disappeared beneath the earth without a sound.

"Bastion, circle round to the stream. Wait for my mark." The Aron padded away through the undergrowth.

Ash coated his arm in liquid metal, hardening it into a gauntlet. He waited until the patrol Pokemon were on the far side of the camp. Raising his hand, he directed Blitz to create a distraction. The Magnemite unleashed a Thunder Wave into the trees, sending a flock of Pidgey into panicked flight.

The bandits reacted instantly, raising their weapons towards the commotion. In that moment of distraction, Ash sent his signal. Blade erupted from the ground between the tents, spraying soil and rocks in all directions. The sudden attack sent two bandits sprawling.

Ash burst from the cover. He caught the nearest bandit with an uppercut that lifted him clean off his feet. The man crashed into a tent, bringing the structure down on top of him.

A sword whistled towards Ash's head. He blocked with his armoured forearm, metal screeching against metal. The bandit's eyes widened as Ash formed a spike from his gauntlet, driving it through the man's stomach. Electricity coursed through the metal, dropping him like a stone.

"Kill them!" someone shouted. The patrol Pokemon charged towards the fight.

Ash's grin was fierce. "Bastion, now!"

The Aron burst from the stream, launching a Rock Tomb that scattered the Pokemon. Mud and water sprayed everywhere as chaos erupted.

Through their bond, Ash felt Blade engage another bandit. Blitz provided covering fire, forcing the remaining bandits to duck behind cover.

A blast of fire from Growlithe nearly caught Ash, singeing his shirt. He spun away from the flames, only to find himself face-to-face with the largest bandit—a mountain of muscle wielding a massive hammer.

"You've got guts, kid," the man growled, "but you're in over your head."

The hammer swung in a deadly arc. Ash crossed his arms, metal flowing to reinforce his guard. The impact still sent him flying backwards into a tree. His vision blurred as pain lanced through his body.

Through watering eyes, he saw the remaining bandits regrouping. Their Pokemon formed a protective circle around them. The big man advanced, hammer raised for another strike.

"Well," Ash muttered, spitting blood, "this could be going better."

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Ash continues the trials to become Mustard's student.

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