Chapter Three: Returning Home

As Vince walked back to the Cherrygrove Pokémon centre, he noticed that things had calmed down significantly from earlier. Apart from a few puddles in places where the sun could not quite reach, you could hardly tell that a battle had taken place. The crowd of frenzied trainers had disappeared from the entrance to the centre, and there were only a few officers dotted around the town. As he entered the centre, he saw the officer he had spoken to after the battle, seated near a map of the Jotho region.

"Thanks for waiting," Vince began, "I just needed some time to get my head around this."

"That's understandable," said the Officer, "all of our lives are going to change."

"So, what can you tell me about the Black Lotus Syndicate?"

"I'll start from the beginning. As you know, there has always been small pockets of gangs even after the the defeat of the team, rocket loyalists and the like. Do you remember a Pokémon Champion called Terrance Maiden?"

Vince thought for a second. He knew that name.

"Wasn't that the guy from Unova? A formidable trainer from what I remember."

"You remember well. He became champion of his home region Unova and then Galar after that. Then he went on to become the Kalos champion, followed by Paldea. After becoming a champion in 4 regions, he wanted to become leader of the elite four in Unova, but the Pokémon league refused. They turned him down due to his training methods. He had very strong partners but they way he trained them was seen as cruel by many."

"Couldn't the authorities stop him?" Asked Vince.

The officer shook his head, "Terrance was clever. His methods were cruel, but not strictly illegal. After getting denied by the league, he fell in with some team plasma loyalists. This is where the Black Lotus has it's roots. We know he got involved with these plasma loyalists but after that he disappeared for some time. Then, about a year ago, the Black Lotus Syndicate made themselves known. They started with small raids across the Pokémon world, but recently have been much more organised. We're not sure what their goal is…but we think it definitely involves some kind of world domination. The Multi Region Alliance was then formed to combat them. They will be able to tell you more once you're joined up."

"So, this Terrance, he's their leader?"

"Yep. We know that the Black Lotus are using the great crater of Paldea as a base, but we don't know much more. The MRA are nowhere near equipped enough at the moment to launch an attack. The Paldeans are living in fear at the moment…those that have decided to stay in the region anyway."

"So what is the MRA's plan?" Asked Vince, wondering what exactly they had in store for him.

"They tried to hold off forcing people to join for as long as they could, but very little came forward to join the cause. This time next month I expect that all champions of fighting age will be drafted in and either in training or carrying out real missions. Personally I think that all trainers will be conscripted soon, regardless of rank. The MRA will have to if the Black Lotus are as powerful as everyone thinks. The MRA have only been carrying out small strike missions so far, but once there's a front line they will need masses of trainers…"

The officer seemed to drift off in thought, probably fear of the future.

The next morning, Vince awoke to the soft humming of the Pokémon Center machinery and the low murmur of conversation between officers and nurses. He rubbed his eyes, stretched out on the narrow, too-short sofa, and sat up slowly. The events of the previous day hit him all over again—the unrest, the choices, the looming war. He exhaled deeply.

After a small breakfast from the café in the Center, Vince made his way back to the Vermilion port, where regional ferries to and from Kanto were still operating under high security. The ferry from Vermilion to Slateport was one of the few interregional routes still in operation.

He boarded the ship in silence, the voyage long and quiet save for the gentle lapping of waves and the occasional cries of Wingull and Pelipper. He stood near the edge of the deck for most of the journey, staring out into the open ocean, the salty breeze tossing his dark hair in all directions. Occasionally, he glanced at the Poké Balls on his belt. Flip. Wishful. Wisp. Briar. Patch. Ohm. A small but formidable team. His only team now.

As the ferry pulled into Slateport City, Vince took a moment to take in the salty air of home. Slateport had always been a busy harbor city, but now there were clear signs of military presence—Alliance banners hung from lampposts, and armed guards stood at strategic points. It no longer felt like the same cheerful, bustling city he remembered.

He didn't linger. Stepping off the boat, he reached for Briar's Pokéball. The Dragonite emerged in a brilliant flash, flapping his massive wings and letting out a warm, familiar trill. Vince smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the side of the neck.

"Home, buddy," he said. "Let's go."

Together, they took off into the sky. The rush of wind and the sight of familiar Hoenn landscapes beneath him stirred something deep inside Vince. Forests, rivers, small towns—it was all still here, still standing. As they approached the marshy outskirts of Fortree City, the stilted homes nestled among the trees came into view, connected by rope bridges and wooden walkways.

Briar touched down gently just outside the town limits. Vince recalled him and walked the rest of the way on foot, boots thudding softly against the wooden walkways until he reached the vine-wrapped door of his family home.

The door creaked open before he could even knock.

"Vince?" a familiar voice called, slightly hoarse with age.

"Hi Mom. I'm home."

His mother rushed to him, embracing him tightly, tears brimming in her eyes. His father followed, a little slower, his frame thinner and his movements more careful than Vince remembered. But the warmth in their faces was unchanged.

They talked for a while—about his journey, about the unrest, about the Pokémon he had to release. His parents were proud of him, but the worry in their eyes never left. They knew what his return meant.

That night, Vince went up to his old bedroom. It was just as he left it—posters of famous champions on the walls, his old Pokégear sitting in its dock, books and trinkets from his first adventure across Hoenn. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, before standing and walking over to the window.

The view hadn't changed. The trees swayed gently in the wind, and in the distance, he could see a small herd of Tropius moving slowly through the treetops, their fruit-scented breath fogging the night air. He used to watch them as a kid, imagining what it would be like to fly on one. His heart ached with nostalgia.

But then… movement caught his eye in the tall grass near the marsh.

An Absol emerged.

Vince froze.

The sleek, white-furred Pokémon stood for a moment in the open, its red eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. It stared up at the sky, then into the trees—alert, solemn. Then it turned and disappeared back into the tall grass, its scythe-like horn gleaming as it vanished.

Vince felt a chill run down his spine.

He remembered the folktales. Absol only appears when disaster is near.

He turned away from the window, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. War was coming. And even the Pokémon of the wild could sense it.