Myst’s laughter was sharp—almost broken.

  It cut through her daze like nails scraping on glass.

  With a conscious act of will, she dug her nails into her palms, letting the pain ground her.

  The Majesty might look overwhelming. Might have just sent out a pulse of energy stronger than most attacks she had seen from elite Pokémon with a casual glance, but even so. This was, bad as it looked, technically still part of the plan.

  Better than the plan, even.

  Originally, the Captain was supposed to face the Majesty alone. Now William was free. Whether he joined one of the groups dealing with a Royal Guard or backed the Captain directly, either option was fundamentally better than waiting for him to finish a Royal Guard first.

  Hell, even that burst of energy from the Majesty wasn’t quite as terrifying as it had seemed at first. In the end, it still played by the same rules as everything else here. Its attacks were massively enhanced—but that didn’t mean its defenses were.

  She took a breath, tried to calm her thoughts, to just focus on going back to her role of directing the attacks on Scovillain.

  She couldn’t.

  Because, for as much as she tried to believe that the current situation was under control—it just wasn’t.

  Slowly she turned away from the Captain just as he released a Snorlax and a Ursaring, looking to Myst instead.

  After all, unfortunately, she had ears.

  Cynthia wasn’t going to pretend she knew everything about Myst. Even now, despite the fact that he was her boyfriend, there were moments when it felt like she barely knew him at all. Like he spoke a different language. Like he existed on an entirely different plane of reality.

  But that didn’t mean she knew nothing.

  Myst might lose his cool. Might spiral inward, collapse into self-defeating thought loops that made her want to shake him.

  But he wasn’t the type to break in situations like this.

  When things got desperate his familiar smile would slip onto his face like a mask. His painfully stupid wit would come flying out every minute, and he would refuse to give even an inch. Wouldn’t even blink when he was, in all honesty, a millisecond from getting blown to bits by an out-of-control Zoroark.

  Which was why seeing him like this was enough to make her freeze.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  Wasn’t talking.

  Just—

  Pure, unmitigated shock.

  “That’s…” His voice trailed off. A second later he continued, the words barely more than a mumble. “Why didn’t I think of that? How did I not realize…”

  She ignored the sound of the battles with the Royal Guard starting up again as she took a step closer to him.

  “Didn’t think of what?”

  Myst just slowly turned to look at her.

  For an instant, she stared into blank blue eyes—eyes that seemed to look through her rather than at her. Then he blinked, and something snapped back into place.

  “We need to leave,” he said.

  She squared her jaw.

  She’d half expected the words, but that didn’t make them any less wrong. They might not be the most important part of the plan, but they still had a role to play. Leaving now could start a chain reaction. Would start one—especially here.

  She had more or less assumed the role of leader, and if there was one thing she’d learned as a clan heiress, it was this: when the one in charge panicked, no one else stayed calm.

  So some part of her wanted to snap at him for even suggesting it.

  She didn’t.

  “Why?” she asked instead.

  He didn’t seem to hear her, just turning towards the other trainers instead.

  “We all need to leave—right now. If they start fighting, this place is going to be blown to bits. We are way too close. Just get to the tunnel, the forest is too—”

  Frustration flared as he ignored her again, and her mouth flew open—

  —but before she could say anything, Queenie’s claw brushed lightly against her arm. Just hard enough to stop her as Myst’s mouth snapped shut on its own.

  It took her only a moment to understand why.

  None of the other trainers were moving.

  No.

  That wasn’t quite right.

  Her gaze snapped across the clearing, taking in everyone around her.

  It wasn’t just the trainers. Their Pokémon were frozen too—every single one of them standing stock-still, eyes wide and unfocused, staring blankly as the Majesty made its way toward the Captain and Arboliva.

  Myst’s expression slackened as the realization struck him a fraction of a second after hers.

  “Fuck,” he said quietly.

  Why were all of them frozen?

  Her gaze snapped to Karina and her Pokémon, desperate but fighting.

  They were fine.

  She looked to the other battlefield.

  The pattern repeated. The weaker trainers stood motionless, vacant-eyed, staring at the Majesty’s slow approach—while those strong enough to be fighting a Royal Guard were still moving.

  It took her only a second to reach the conclusion.

  The mind control.

  She had assumed it was Psychic-based. That maybe the Majesty itself was a Psychic-type Pokémon, and that was why it hadn’t worked as well on the Swadloon. But standing here now, she realized that couldn’t be right.

  If it were Psychic in nature, wouldn’t it have struggled against Trevenant in the same way?

  Wouldn’t it have failed against Dark-types?

  But it hadn’t.

  Even the Murkrow one of the trainers had was affected—hovering in place, wings flapping on instinct alone, eyes empty as it stared ahead.

  It affected everything, humans and Pokémon alike.

  Which meant the Swadloon tribe’s resistance likely had nothing to do with typing at all.

  Her mind spun as she thought.

  Maybe it was strength.

  The Swadloon tribe had multiple powerful Leavanny. If they were strong enough to avoid being controlled directly, then there was a good chance they could use the Bug-type instinct to follow their leaders—overriding whatever influence the Majesty was trying to exert.

  She opened her mouth to ask—

  “That’s a Tsareena, pure grass-type. The mind control is probably her unique ability—backed up by her Hidden Ability,” Myst cut in, his voice tight. “Sweet Veil keeps the Royal Guard from falling asleep, and Queenly Majesty lets her control them. Though, looking at the result right now, I don’t think most trainers would be able to resist even Queenly Majesty alone. Navi helped us recover, and the Rangers probably have their own methods, but…”

  He trailed off, but Cynthia could still feel the but hanging there.

  “But…?” she pressed.

  “…As far as I know it shouldn’t work like this. In my head it only works against moves that—"

  Myst broke off again, then shook his head sharply.

  “Never mind. We don’t have time, and it doesn’t change anything.” His eyes flicked to the Majesty, now nearly halfway between the massive Tangrowth and where the Captain, William, and the defeated Arboliva stood. “We need to get everyone out of here. I’ll wake the trainers who were supposed to help Brian. You handle the ones here, then we both move for the trainers near Johanna. They’re closest to the tunnel, so we should be able to esc—”

  She cut him off, already understanding his point.

  “I trust you,” she said firmly. “If you think we need to leave, fine. But first—I need the barest cliff notes on why.” She gestured sharply at the frozen trainers, frustration bleeding into her voice. “And second, how am I supposed to wake them?”

  “One,” Myst said, already moving toward a nearby trainer. “The Captain said Shaymin flower. I assumed Shaymin relic. I was wrong. Either the Captain was too, or that’s a nickname is doing the relic a grave disservice.”

  He stopped in front of the closest trainer—a short boy with a Buizel frozen at his side.

  “Two—”

  He slapped him.

  Hard.

  The boy staggered back, confusion flashing across his face. He touched his cheek, blinked, then stiffened when he spotted Myst.

  “What the—” The anger in his voice died before the sentence finished. “What just happened?”

  “A grave disservice?” Cynthia asked.

  “In my opinion, you can broadly divide legends into three.” Myst said. “Shaymin is at the bottom of the bottom of tier three.”

  The boy finally found his voice again.

  “What are you talking about? Why is everybody frozen? Why isn’t Buizel moving?”

  Myst ignored him completely.

  “But that relic?”

  Rei flashed to Myst’s side as violet energy flared around Navi.

  Myst gave her a glance, eyes lingering behind her, before he let out a small chuckle.

  Sharp, almost broken.

  “Might as well think of it as one that belongs to tier zero.”

  Myst vanished.

  Cynthia stared.

  Then, slowly, she turned around.

  Any other time, the first thing she would have noticed was the Captain’s Snorlax rising to its feet, a faint shimmer of white energy wrapping around its massive frame.

  Any other time, she might have spared a second to marvel at the Ursaring beside it—how its white Aura burned so brightly that its body was nearly lost within the glow, a boosting move pushed to its absolute limit.

  This was not any other time.

  The Snorlax took a step forward.

  Her eyes locked onto the Majesty.

  Then, as it took another—

  The Tsareena stood barely twenty meters away from the Captain, having been allowed to advance completely uninterrupted.

  It became light.

  She had once told Myst that legends from other regions could destroy a city, but that Sinnoh’s legends could destroy the world.

  Like a living wall of Normal-type energy, Snorlax surged forward. Each step landed with such force that the earth in its path cracked.

  He had never questioned that.

  The Majesty lifted a single foot, and for just a moment, the glittering shards of green energy flowing from its skin simply vanished as the constant, layered Grassy Terrain ceased to exist.

  She had.

  Giga Impact.

  Growing up with her grandmother had meant stories. Endless stories. Even before she could walk, before she could even talk, her grandmother had regaled her with tales of Sinnoh. Of ancient legends shaping space and time itself. Of beings with the power to unmake the world with a careless flick.

  A lazily lifted foot, glowing with Grass-type energy.

  Back then, Cynthia remembered asking—

  The attacks collided like heaven and earth crashing together.

  If their legends could destroy the world, wouldn’t they have already? How could anyone know they could, if they never tried? And if they had tried… why was the world still here?

  White light slammed into a green pinprick.

  A wall of force so overwhelming that the entire field of flowers vanished in an instant—ripped from existence. The shockwave blasted outward, strong enough to fling anyone not anchored clean off their feet.

  Her grandmother had only smiled, indulging her granddaughter’s curiosity, and explained.

  Cynthia could barely breathe as thick green vines lashed around her and the others, dragging them to the ground and driving the air from her lungs a split second before the light reached them.

  Sinnoh might be home to the greatest legends. The most mystical Pokémon.

  But the world had always been safe.

  The white light expanded, then contracted, before it collapsed in on itself like a shattered window folding from a single fatal crack. In an instant, the world snapped back into focus.

  Snorlax and Tsareena stood where the explosion had been.

  Foot met fist.

  It should have been close.

  It wasn’t.

  Because while Sinnoh might be home to the greatest legends—

  The creator of space.

  The ruler of time.

  Tsareena flexed.

  Lightly.

  It was also home to something greater.

  With the casualness of a ruler, its foot rose—breaking Snorlax’s guard and crashing into its stomach.

  Like it weighed nothing Snorlax was sent flying backward, crashing into the ground with enough force to shake the surrounding area.

  After all, atop Mount Coronet lay the throne of the world’s only—

  Cynthia tried pushing herself off the ground as the vines vanished.

  Without really meaning to she looked at the Tsareena.

  At the stone nestled in the red fabric.

  At the relics of the worlds—

  One.

  True.

  God.

  …

  Fuck.

  It had taken Cynthia about two seconds to get fully to her feet—and another second to realize that Myst was right.

  Fuck.

  Four seconds later, and she had managed to use her lingering authority to get people moving.

  F—

  Focus.

  Now?

  Cynthia forced herself to focus, forced herself to ignore the burning pain as she stared at the tunnel opening and the giant Tangrowth almost hiding it almost entirely.

  Two hundred meters?

  Maybe a little more?

  Her sense of distance was usually almost perfect, but she couldn’t tell right now, not with the entire battleground seemingly falling apart around them.

  A chunk of dirt erupted from the clash with Scovillain—but before Cynthia could even register the threat in the corner of her eye, Riolu was already there.

  White light flared around his body, his eyes shining with blue energy as he appeared in an instant. He struck the fragment out of the air and vanished again just as quickly, reappearing beside another trainer to do the same—intercepting the debris a heartbeat before the trainer’s Turtwig could even fire off its Razor Leaf.

  Cynthia didn’t let herself slow for even a second. She kept running.

  Two hundred meters was nothing—less than half a minute at a full sprint. A Pokémon could cross it in seconds. Even with stray debris flying around, their Pokémon could defend them well enough.

  Still, she wasn’t under any illusions.

  They could handle stray debris, the ground shaking, but real attacks from the Royal Guard? Aftershocks from when Tsareena and the Captain’s Pokémon truly clashed?

  Half a minute might as well be an eternity.

  One of the younger looking trainers running in front stumbled, nearly going down. Almost without thinking, Cynthia caught their arm and hauled them back upright. She half-dragged them along for a few steps before letting go once they found their footing again.

  The trainer shot her a look and opened their mouth, clearly about to say something—but Cynthia didn’t let the words reach her. Instead, she glanced to the side.

  Myst had gathered a similar group from the trainers meant to help Brian. They were farther from the tunnel and closer to the fighting—but in one crucial way, they were almost better off. Every few seconds, one of the group would withdraw their Pokémon and vanish in a burst of purple light, Navi teleporting them to safety.

  She let her eyes slide over to where Queenie ran, the Dragon-type’s eyes narrowed into slits, her face snakelike face covered in frustration.

  …Maybe she could send Queenie back to ask Karina if she could—

  An explosion rang out behind her, and a burst of heat washed over her in a violent gust. It wasn’t powerful enough to do more than shake the ground, but the deep, gong-like sound of Bronzong—uncomfortably close to a scream of pain and frustration—cut her thought short.

  Never mind.

  Karina had probably been stunned for less time than anyone else fighting a Royal Guard. But that didn’t mean much when Scovillain hadn’t seemed stunned at all. Instead, it had taken advantage of the momentary distraction to instantly knock out Karina’s Mr. Mime.

  With their help, Karina’s full team had been almost evenly matched against Scovillain.

  Now?

  If Karina sent even a single Pokémon back to help them, the fragile balance she had barely managed to maintain would crack instantly.

  “ALAKAZAM!” Karina screamed from behind, her voice raw with frustration—and the next instant, the ground shook.

  Two different types of Type Energy slammed together behind Cynthia, the collision detonating in a concussive blast, but compared to the force from Tsareena’s and Snorlax’s clash this time the force didn’t do much more than whip her hair loose, strands snapping across her face.

  Cynthia lifted a hand to shove her ponytail back—

  —and then something vanished from her.

  It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t even harmful.

  But it felt like something had been pulled away—like her next breath suddenly drew in only half as much air.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  “DOWN!” she screamed, throwing herself down, while tackling the closest trainer.

  The others didn’t even have time to hesitate. Before their bodies could catch up, vines of glowing leaves snapped into place around their bodies, yanking them back to the ground just as—

  BOOM.

  White light.

  A smear of brown.

  Not even the smallest hint of green.

  The shockwave rolling over her felt like somebody jumping on every inch of her body, like something heavy pressing air from her lungs.

  She let out a wheeze of pain, but forced herself to ignore the pain, pushing off the ground.

  Beside her, the trainer she’d slammed into the ground—the same one she’d steadied seconds earlier—started to push himself up as well.

  Halfway through the motion, he froze.

  Their eyes met.

  His eyes were misting over.

  Fuck.

  Cynthia opened her mouth, but before she could even tell him to get it together drops began to fall. Tears tracked down his cheek as his lips pressed into a tight line, his arms trembling beneath him. He was her age—maybe even a little older. A Flying-type specialist whose only real contribution had been his Murkrow’s Gust, before that same Murkrow had been knocked out by a single stray Bullet Seed.

  And about one second from a panic attack.

  He opened his mouth.

  “I—I…”

  Cynthia froze as his body started to shake in earnest, his eyes unfocusing as the words tangled and fell apart.

  Shit.

  She got fully to her feet and hauled him up—only for his legs to give out completely, sending him collapsing back to the ground.

  Double shit.

  She opened her mouth, about to call for Queenie—

  —and stopped as her face tightened. The Gabite was already helping somebody else, claws digging into the earth as she tried to drag another trainer upright, with about as much success as Cynthia had just had.

  Triple shit.

  For a moment, she just stood there—two trainers still on the ground, the rest already breaking away without them.

  She gritted her teeth. Frustration surged, and she snapped her head toward where the Captain and William were fighting Tsareena.

  Twelve against one.

  Twelve elite-level Pokémon—more than capable of fighting, even winning, a conference—against a single wild Pokémon.

  They should have been winning.

  After all, in theory, it didn’t matter whether the relic was tied to a legend or a God. A Pokémon that had originally been weaker than a Royal Guard shouldn’t have been able to wield either at full strength. Hell, it shouldn’t be able to use the latter at all.

  Staraptor’s Brave Bird slammed into Tsareena hard enough to send her skidding backward, only to be followed by an Earth Power violent enough to hurl chunks of earth sky-high. Tsareena flicked a hand, green energy dispersing the Ground-type attack—

  —and a millisecond later, Dragon Breath crashed into her.

  Tsareena looked like she could barely fight back, like they had figured out how to keep her in check.

  After all, that first head-on exchange had been—quite frankly—stupid. If there was one thing Cynthia had learned about this place, it was that Grass-type moves were far stronger than they had any right to be. Having Snorlax try to contest her in raw power had been a fool’s errand.

  Comparatively their current approach, using technique and numbers instead of meeting strength with strength, was closer to what they should have been doing from the start. Denying her space, denying her time. Force her to use simple attacks without much power. Whittle her down through a mix of long-distance high-power attacks and weaker close range hits to force her off balance.

  Swat away one, and another would instantly take its place, all while Flygon and the rest of their Pokémon with long range moves could fire off attacks freely.

  Ursaring’s claws raked across her body. Tsareena kicked it aside—and before the bear-like Pokémon could even hit the ground, Donphan smashed into her from behind.

  It should have been a winning strategy.

  Even a Pokémon as strong as Tsareena couldn’t simply tank hits forever. In the first place, she didn’t even look built to take punishment.

  But—

  Her Aura wasn’t running out.

  No matter how many hits they landed.

  No matter how clean their coordination was.

  No matter how many times they interrupted her before she could use a proper move—

  None of it seemed to matter.

  Shards of green energy continued to flake from her body in a steady rhythm. Her externalized Aura burned just as brightly as it had at the start of the fight.

  She didn’t seem to struggle, didn’t seem to even do more than fight back half-heartedly.

  It was almost like she was still asleep, idly swatting at them as if they were nothing more than flies—alert enough to evade anything meant to weaken her, and distant enough to accept every strike that carried real force.

  The original plan had been for the Captain to fight on his own and, looking at it now, she actually thought he might be able to.

  Not because he was strong enough.

  Not because he could actually hold her back.

  But because Tsareena would have allowed him to fight her.

  She moved her eyes to the faint red cloth around the Grass-type monarch’s neck.

  This wasn’t going to work. They had to know that if they wanted to win they needed to do something about—

  A flash of purple energy flickered in the corner of her eye—but before she could turn, a hand clamped around her arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  She wrenched herself free, spun around, and glared at him.

  “You might have the ability to Teleport people,” she snapped. “I don’t.”

  Myst froze, his gaze flicking over the trainers still stranded nearby. Realization hit—and his face twisted with frustration.

  “Navi,” he barked. “Get them out of here. Both of them.”

  Navi nodded instantly. She flashed to the nearest trainer, touched him, vanished—then reappeared beside the second and did the same.

  The moment Navi vanished the first time, they both broke into a dead sprint toward the tunnel.

  “I guess you feel relaxed enough to—” Myst sucked in a breath mid-run, then shot her a look. “—check out at their battle, huh? You get anything from it at least?”

  Cynthia glanced at him.

  “Not really. At least—not unless you have a way to separate Tsareena from the relic.”

  He pursed his lips at that, but didn’t offer an answer.

  Not that she’d expected one. People liked to believe separating items from Pokémon was easy, but unless you had a Pokémon that knew Thief, it was nearly impossible. Given enough time a Pokémon could expand its Aura to encompass whatever it carried, making them effectively part of itself. If it didn’t give it up willingly, you weren’t getting it.

  So instead of chasing impossibilities, Cynthia shifted her attention back to Johanna’s fight against Lurantis.

  …huh.

  Her mouth twisted into a crooked smile.

  It was almost funny. The original plan had been to throw every single trainer at one Royal Guard and hope that was enough to keep a Royal Guard occupied while the Rangers dealt with the rest. The Captain had talked about it like they were the biggest weak point.

  Looking at it now?

  Never mind the fight against Tsareena—Brian and his Fighting-types could barely manage a stalemate against his Lurantis, while Karina looked maybe ten seconds away from having to run from Scovillain entirely.

  The only group that had actually been in control of their fight from start to finish?

  Johanna’s.

  …

  Cynthia skidded to a stop beside the gathered trainers and sucked in a couple of greedy breaths, her heart hammering in her chest.

  That had been close.

  Tsareena had only used one proper move during their entire sprint—but this time, it had been aimed almost directly at them. Even after throwing themselves at the ground, if not for Queenie using Protect, they would both have gone flying.

  Flying into the next world even.

  “You’re—a—” She took a deep breath, forcing her lungs to cooperate, then tried again. “You’re a lifesaver, Queenie,” she managed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

  Queenie lifted a claw in response, her body still sagging slightly, and let out a low growl.

  Myst, standing beside her, took a few more deep breaths of his own—just enough to steady himself—then straightened. He patted Navi’s head, the poor girl breathing just as heavily as he had been after the half a dozen teleports and then spoke.

  “Agreed. Without your Protect we were probably both going to be pancakes.”

  “You’re the ones who decided to make everybody fucking panic?”

  The voice cut in instantly.

  Cynthia snapped her head to the left to see Cecilia stalking toward them, her face twisted with fury.

  “Do you have any idea what your little stunt just did?” Cecilia continued. “If you were too scared to be here, then don’t fucking join! We didn’t need your freaking help, the Rangers you were assigned to did!”

  Cynthia felt the frustration and anger she had kept carefully under a lid explode instantly.

  “Have you watched the fight against Tsareena for a single fucking second?” she shot back. “Do you actually think they’re winning that? Because if you do, I understand why you never managed to get anywhere on the circuit.”

  She stepped forward, glare hard.

  “You might get away when Tsareena wins. The Rangers probably have ways out. But what about us?” She gestured sharply at the trainers around them. “You think we have a single way to run? We don’t. If we’re still there when Tsareena wins, we’re all dead.”

  Cecilia’s face darkened.

  “You cowardly, spoiled, rich bi—”

  Johanna stepped in before she could finish.

  “Cecilia,” she said sharply.

  Cecilia snapped her mouth shut hard enough to make a sound. For a heartbeat, Cynthia almost felt a flicker of satisfaction—

  Then Johanna turned on her.

  “But for the record,” she continued, her voice just as sharp, “I agree with Cecilia. There was a plan. Why did you make everybody run? I know you don’t fully trust the Captain, but with William there they aren’t going to lose easily. In fact, if you hadn’t sent everyone running, Brian might’ve finished off Lurantis by now and helped Karina deal with Scovillain. With both of them free, do you really think we would lose?”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Myst answered instantly.

  “Yes.”

  Johanna paused, then glanced towards Myst.

  “Why?”

  Myst face didn’t even show a hint of a smile.

  “Because the relic wrapped around her neck isn’t Shaymin’s Flower. It’s a fragment of the Meadow Plate.”

  “So what?” Cecilia shot back immediately. “How does it being a different relic change anything? Or are you stupid enough to think the Captain was a hundred percent sure going into this? This is legends we’re talking about—of course he wasn’t. But even if it’s tied to another legend, do you really think that changes anything? It’s not a real Legendary. You say he’s losing, but I haven’t seen Tsareena use more than three moves the entire battle.” She threw her hands up, “Hell, how do you know that he doesn’t have a way to deal with the reli—”

  “Arceus.” Myst cut her off. “The Meadow Plate belongs to Arceus.”

  Silence.

  Cecilia’s mouth hung open.

  “…What?”

  Myst didn’t raise his voice. If anything, he slowed down—each word measured, deliberate, like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child.

  “If you consider objects tied to legends to be relics, then the Plates are relics of Arceus.” He repeated, “That’s why I wanted people to run. Because even if the Captain could handle a relic tied to a regular Legendary—this isn’t even remotely the same thing.”

  He pointed at Tsareena harshly.

  “And the problem isn’t just her moves. It’s that she isn’t taking any damage. Since the start of the fight, she hasn’t even tried. She’s just been standing there—face-tanking everything. Never mind beating her by ganging up on her. I don’t even know if we could scratch her if we tried.”

  He let out a breath.

  “I’m going to be honest. I have no idea what the Meadow Plate actually does. I don’t know if it massively boosts her regeneration, or if it straight-up makes her invincible.”

  He looked back at Cecilia, eyes cold.

  “But honestly? I don’t care.”

  Cynthia watched him take a step forward, staring Cecilia down with icy blue eyes.

  “The Captain said he could handle the Majesty alone. He can’t. The Captain said the relic was Shaymin’s Flower. It isn’t. So tell me—in what world does it make sense for us to stay and fight this out to the end?”

  Cecilia stared blankly at him for a couple of seconds, then turned to Johanna, like she wanted her to say he was crazy.

  She didn’t hear what she wanted to.

  Johanna was staring at Myst, her face pale.

  “How sure are you?” she demanded. “That it’s the Meadow Plate, that it belongs to Arceus?”

  Myst met her eyes—and didn’t answer.

  Johanna didn’t need him to.

  She staggered back half a step, then caught herself, noticing the way the surrounding trainers were watching her. Instead of panicking, she forced herself still.

  Her jaw set.

  Shooting a glance towards Lurantis, the Grass-type barely managing to hold on through the skin of its teeth, she opened her mouth.

  “Midna,” she started, voice trembling just slightly.

  The Umbreon broke away from the fight instantly, landing at her side without hesitation. A faint white glow already clung to her body—weak, but steady—as if she’d felt Johanna’s resolve before the command was ever spoken.

  “Hyper Beam.”

  The light around Midna surged.

  In a heartbeat, it flooded forward, condensing at her mouth—coalescing into a blinding sphere of pure white energy that drowned out everything else.

  Lurantis reacted a fraction of a second too late.

  Already strained holding off Cecilia’s Hitmonlee, it twisted on instinct, leaf-blades snapping up as green light flared. Leaf Blade carved forward, desperate, precise and—

  Hyper Beam fired.

  —the effort didn’t matter.

  Its Leaf Blade shattered on contact, disintegrating into sparks as Hyper Beam slammed into Lurantis head-on. The impact swallowed it completely, lifting its body off the ground before hurling it backward in a violent arc.

  When the light faded, Lurantis lay embedded in the earth, unmoving.

  Fainted.

  Midna staggered the instant the beam ended. The white light around her body flickered violently before collapsing altogether. She dropped to one knee, breathing hard—panting now, where moments ago she’d looked perfectly fine.

  “We need to leave.” Johanna said simply.

  Cecilia looked like she wanted to snap back in outrage—but instead her expression twisted, realization catching up to her halfway through. She turned away.

  “Fine.” She muttered.

  A hand settled on her shoulder, and she leaned back slightly into the man she’d been traveling with.

  “It’s the correct decision,” Oliver said, speaking for the first time. “In the first place, we’ve done our job. We were assigned one Royal Guard—and we dealt with it.”

  A tense silence settled over the group.

  Cynthia bit her lip.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, but in the end the risk simply wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t strong enough to change the outcome—and more importantly, winning wasn’t worth the cost. Nobody’s lives were on the line anymore.

  With Karina still standing, as long as her team didn’t completely collapse, the Rangers could always escape via Teleport. Staying would only make things worse. Karina wouldn’t be able to Teleport everyone out at once.

  If the Captain could win, then good. If not, their presence wouldn’t turn defeat into catastrophe.

  She ignored the way her heart screamed in protest.

  Johanna glanced toward the towering Tangrowth—and then the tunnel beyond—and let out a slow sigh.

  “If we are leaving, then let’s get a move on. The longer we dawdle, the bigger the chance of things going wrong.”

  …

  They made it to the Tangrowth, and Cynthia risked a glance back at the Rangers they were leaving behind.

  Then everything went wrong.

  Not one thing.

  Everything.

  It began with the hollow sensation that accompanied every proper move Tsareena used—a sickening emptiness that rang through her like a struck bell. The natural Grassy Terrain that had blanketed the Grass Kingdom vanishing, drawn inward and compressed, concentrating into a single point.

  BOOM!

  The aftershock followed—an invisible wall of energy tearing across the battlefield in the blink of an eye.

  Up until now, the waves that reached them had been mostly from the Captain’s Normal-type or William’s Ground-type. The shockwaves not actually from Tsareena itself, but instead from William and the Captain having to use overpowered moves to stop it.

  This time the wall was green.

  Cynthia had just enough time to feel her eyes begin widen before it was almost upon them—

  A barrier of light formed in front of her eyes.

  Light Screen.

  The green wave slammed into it.

  The surface bowed inward, rippling like glass under immense pressure as Grass-type energy screamed against Psychic-type, but even though the barrier was hastily erected it held.

  For a heartbeat, she could only stare at the barrier that had just saved her life. Then, before she could fully register what had happened, it began to fade, and her eyes were drawn to the scene it had been hiding.

  Her gaze locked onto Tsareena and the Pokémon battling her.

  …Not good.

  If she had to guess who was going to collapse first, she would definitely have thought it would be Karina.

  Looking at it now though?

  Her eyes locked onto the space where twelve Pokémon had been fighting moments ago.

  Red lights flashed.

  Only six remained.

  Six.

  A single direct hit—and six Pokémon had gone down at once.

  That was the first thing to go wrong.

  “Keep running!” Johanna shouted at the trainers who had frozen, her voice pitching as the realization hit her at the same time it hit them.

  The hesitation broke instantly. Trainers spun on their heels, scrambling forward—

  —and then Karina appeared.

  She stumbled into view, nearly pitching forward. Sweat streamed down her face as Alakazam and Xatu materialized beside her, all three of them looking like they’d barely escaped being burned alive. Karina grabbed onto her Pokémon to steady herself, then lifted her head and swept her gaze across the group.

  Relief flickered across her face when she realized everyone was there. She took a couple of shaky breaths before straightening.

  “Johanna. Cecilia. Oliver,” she said quickly. “I need you to stay behind for a moment. Xatu and Alakazam will Teleport to Brian—"

  Scovillain arrived.

  A burst of green energy flared as a blur of red and green tore toward the group, massive Razor Leaves clenched in each hand. It slashed forward, straight for one of the trainers at the edge of the formation and met—

  —resistance.

  Green met blue as Queenie’s Dragon Claw crashed into Scovillain’s Razor Leaf, the impact ringing out as raw force slammed against force.

  If Scovillain had been fighting at full strength, Queenie should have been blown away instantly. Against almost any other Pokémon, the lack of force would have made no difference at all.

  Unfortunately for Scovillain, it had met Queenie.

  For a heartbeat, Scovillain struggled against the Dragon-type, its expression flickering with something like confusion—as if it couldn’t quite understand why she hadn’t been swatted aside.

  Then, after a moment, it just gave up understanding, and instead just laughed.

  The Razor Leaf in its hands surged with power.

  A split second was all it needed.

  Green cut through blue.

  The Razor Leaf slammed into Queenie’s body, hurling her backward into the ground with a bone-jarring crash. Scovillain’s red head opened its mouth, fire gathering for a Flamethrower—

  —but before it could release it, a white blur slammed into its side.

  Sassy was already there, the Glameow’s white claws detonating against Scovillain’s body, sending it flying backward.

  Slash.

  Scovillain twisted in midair, landed lightly on its feet, and lifted its head—blurred red eyes locking onto them.

  That was the second thing to go wrong.

  For a heartbeat, no one seemed to know what to do. The trainers who were supposed to be running, Johanna, Cecilia—everyone—had frozen, staring at Scovillain.

  Cynthia bit her lip.

  This was bad.

  From what she’d seen, Scovillain was by far the trickiest of the Royal Guard to deal with. Far more lucid than the others—aware enough to realize that if it went after the fleeing trainers, everything would collapse into instant chaos.

  In other words, Cecilia, Oliver and Johanna had to keep it contained. Force it to stay put long enough for everyone else to gain distance—then disengage slowly.

  Scovillain kept laughing, its eyes sweeping lazily over the gathered trainers before—

  Cynthia froze.

  The laughter stopped.

  Scovillain’s gaze snapped to a halt.

  Focused on one thing.

  Her.

  …What?

  For a moment, she stared back.

  Its entire body had gone unnaturally still—every twitch, every sway arrested mid-motion. Then it began to shake. Something feverish crept into its posture, a manic tension, like it had just seen something it couldn’t quite believe. A chance that would come once in a lifetime.

  Cynthia didn’t look away as Riolu and Roselia tensed at her sides.

  Why was it staring at her like—

  Karina snapped out of it before the thought could finish forming. She whipped her head around toward the trainers still standing there and glared.

  “Get going.”

  The spell broke. Trainers jolted into motion, suddenly remembering that they were, in fact, not inside the tunnel yet. Scrambling past the Tangrowth, they fled into the darkness, disappearing one by one.

  Cynthia forced herself to move too, starting to turn—

  —Scovillain took a single meaningful step in her direction.

  She paused.

  It paused.

  Shit.

  Was this because she’d been the one directing the battle? Some twisted sense of revenge for how she’d orchestrated its containment?

  She took a step back.

  Scovillain stepped forward, perfectly synchronized.

  Myst, already having found Volkner and Flint, paused when he realized she wasn’t joining them. He stopped, and Volkner and Flint both slid to a halt beside him giving him a confused look.

  He opened his mouth before either of them could.

  “Go ahead without us,” he said sharply. “Get everyone into the tunnel. I’ll have Navi teleport us after.”

  Flint and Volkner exchanged a look, but before they could figure out if they wanted to argue, some of the fleeing trainers slowed, glancing back toward them.

  Volkner’s eyes hardened. He clapped Myst on the shoulder.

  “We’re going ahead. Don’t die.”

  Myst nodded and turned back toward her, confusion flickering across his face as he ran back.

  Karina gave them a single glance, but instead of saying anything, purple energy flared around her. The next moment she vanished, a matching flash appearing in the distance where Brian was still fighting Tsareena.

  Myst slid to a stop beside Cynthia.

  “So,” he said lightly, forcing the tone, “what’s your excuse this time?”

  Cynthia pressed her lips together.

  “Scovillain.”

  Myst blinked in confusion, but before he could ask, she spoke again.

  “Scovillain isn’t like the rest of the Royal Guard,” she said, loud enough for everyone still nearby to hear. “I don’t know why, but compared to the others, it’s far more lucid. Just because it isn’t attacking right now doesn’t mean it’s safe to ignore.”

  Johanna nodded immediately, not even questioning why Cynthia hadn’t left.

  “I noticed,” she said. “It’s behaving completely differently from Lurantis. Lurantis lashed out at everything—moving leaves, flowers, even shadows. In comparison, Scovillain almost seems well-behaved.” Her jaw tightened. “Though, honestly, that just makes it more dangerous.”

  No one replied.

  Seconds stretched on. No one dared take a step. If Scovillain wasn’t acting, provoking it before the other trainers had gained enough distance would be reckless at best.

  Still…

  Cynthia felt herself tense. Scovillain’s gaze hadn’t wavered for even a moment, fixed squarely on her. From the corner of her eye, she caught Myst’s look, then Johanna’s—both unspoken, both asking the same question.

  She’d warned them about Scovillain, so why hadn’t she moved?

  Then Cecilia spoke, her voice slower than usual, carefully measured.

  “Do you think it would follow us if we started moving toward the tunnel? The whole point of staying behind was to keep it from rushing in after the trainers, right?” She hesitated, frowning. “But right now…” Her eyes flicked back to Scovillain. “It almost looks content to stay here.”

  Cynthia bit her lip. She followed its gaze—and felt her stomach tighten when it led straight back to her.

  It didn’t make sense.

  When they had fought it earlier, she was almost certain it had seen her. So why now? Why this quiet, focused—

  Her thoughts cut off.

  Wait.

  She looked down at her side, where Riolu and Roselia stood close. They had stayed there for most of the fighting, pressed near her to keep her as safe as possible.

  Her pulse quickened.

  Slowly, Cynthia lifted her eyes back to Scovillain.

  Followed its gaze.

  And then followed it again—to her left, where Roselia stood, his body tensed as he readied himself for any move the Grass-Fire type might make.

  “I think…” Cynthia said quietly, almost to herself, “…it might be waiting because of Roselia.”

  Her gaze lingered on the red scarf around Roselia’s neck.

  Johanna paused at her words.

  “What?”

  She had never really questioned where Roselia had come from. Why he had lost his memory. Some part of her had just put it in the same box as what happened to Myst.

  Whatever had really happened, it wasn’t something she could untangle right now. So why worry about it?

  But hadn’t the Elder Trevenant said Tsareena had lost her memories too?

  Hadn’t Roselia mentioned that Navi had once worn a similar scarf?

  A similar red one.

  Cynthia snapped her gaze up toward Tsareena.

  She was steadily dismantling what remained of the Captain’s and William’s teams. Even now, she wasn’t truly fighting—not properly. She swatted Pokémon aside, knocked them away, treated them like obstacles rather than threats. It felt less like combat and more like a cruel imitation of a play. She was toying with them, drawing it out. Torturing them instead of ending it quickly.

  But she had already known that, so she wasn’t watching the battle.

  Her eyes locked onto the faint red smudge around the Tsareena’s neck, before glancing down at Roselia.

  …no way?

  Her body felt cold and hot at the same time as her thoughts accelerated—every part of her mind firing at once, like she was standing on the edge of a realization she had no right to touch.

  She didn’t know why she’d never considered it before.

  Navi.

  Roselia.

  The Flygon.

  And now Tsareena.

  No memories.

  Strange, almost learned mannerisms for wild Pokémon.

  The presence of their Hidden Abilities.

  It fit.

  They were all from the same place. Part of the same community of Pokémon. Hell—considering everything about the Grass Kingdom, maybe they were even from something closer to a kingdom themselves. Somewhere Pokémon had truly established their own society. Somewhere humans had never found.

  Some unknown region.

  Some place humans would never ordinarily look.

  The underground?

  There were so many possibilities.

  Even so, as her thought raced Cynthia felt a single possibility rear its head.

  …Maybe even Myst came from the same—

  Cynthia’s breath caught.

  Not because of the thought.

  No.

  That would have been so much easier.

  The real problem was much worse.

  Tsareena turned her head.

  As if she had sensed something, she completely ignored Ursaring’s incoming Slash. The blow raked across her body—and did nothing. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even acknowledge it.

  She simply tanked the attack and looked straight at Cynthia.

  No.

  Not straight at her.

  Straight at Roselia.

  That was the last thing to go wrong.

  …

  When Tsareena had walked from Tangrowth to Arboliva, she had taken her time. What felt like minutes stretched thin. A slow, deliberate advance—unhurried, unafraid.

  Cynthia had more or less understood why.

  Tsareena had all the time in the world. As long as she wore the Meadow Plate, nothing here could truly harm her. So why rush? Intruders could be dealt with at her leisure—if they were even allowed to move at all.

  This time, Tsareena did not take minutes.

  She snapped her entire body around, leaving herself completely exposed. The grassy domain that had existed simply by her presence collapsed in an instant as she became motion—pure, condensed Grass-type energy given form.

  William’s Donphan charged toward her—

  Too slow.

  The Captain’s Purugly slashed at her legs—

  Too weak.

  She ignored both.

  And then—

  Cynthia didn’t have time to react.

  Didn’t have time to blink.

  Tsareena vanished.

  The ground where she had stood detonated into green light as everything—terrain, distance, and time—collapsed into a single, impossible instant. The space between them simply ceased to exist.

  Grassy Glide.

  Cynthia only had time for exactly one and a half thoughts.

  Oh.

  I’m dead.

  CRACK!

  A violent flash of red and green erupted upward as a small presence slammed into Tsareena. Green energy exploded outward from the impact in a perfect ring, expanding just far enough for the air itself to thrum—before snapping back violently. Like a universe collapsing, space screamed as the power tore inward.

  A beat of nothing—

  Then the energy had nowhere left to go.

  It detonated sideways.

  A horizontal shockwave tore across the battlefield like a blade of compressed force, ripping through the already shattered ground. Earth and stone were torn free and hurled into the forest, crashing through the nearest trees with brutal force.

  If even a fraction of that power had reached her—without any protection from a Pokémon—she would have been dead.

  But it hadn’t.

  Somehow, the Pokémon that had intercepted Tsareena had shaped the aftershock, forcing it to discharge straight sideways—and nowhere else.

  Cynthia stumbled back, breathless and stunned, as Scovillain rebounded from the clash and landed lightly on its feet just ahead of them. It staggered, let out a few harsh breaths, then slowly straightened—eyes locked on Tsareena.

  Tsareena stared back.

  Then, after a moment, she tilted her head.

  “Tsar?”

  How?

  Her voice echoed faintly, the green stone woven into her scarf flaring brighter as she spoke.

  Cynthia bumped into a solid chest and caught herself, barely keeping her footing.

  Scovillain grinned back.

  “Scovillain.”

  At the reply, something in Tsareena’s expression cracked. The distant indifference she’d worn so effortlessly faltered—replaced by genuine surprise.

  “Tsare?”

  Faking it?

  Before Scovillain could finish its smug nod, the surprise vanished.

  “Tsareena.”

  I’ll deal with you later.

  She turned away from Scovillain, her eyes locking onto Roselia.

  Behind her, Scovillain’s smug expression faltered, sliding into frustration before shifting again—this time into something like hope—as it turned toward Roselia as well.

  “Tsareena, Tsareena?”

  That scarf, is it yours?

  The question snapped Cynthia back to reality—and with it, her mind finally registered what she had been ignoring.

  The sweetness.

  Some part of her wanted to retch. From the moment Tsareena appeared, she had spread a cloying sweetness through the air—but this close, it was infinitely worse. Not just sweet. Rotten. Overripe. Disgusting.

  The pressure.

  Another part of her wanted to kneel. The pressure Tsareena radiated. The faint edge of her Ability pressing inward, the way every movement carried an unspoken rule of obedience—made the air itself feel heavy.

  Either sensation alone would have been enough to make standing difficult.

  And yet—that wasn’t why she’d almost stumbled.

  She understood Tsareena.

  Really understood her.

  Cynthia could understand her Pokémon, Queenie so completely they barely needed words at all, but this was different. That had taken time, practice, and more than its fair sheer of misunderstandings.

  This was effortless.

  Tsareena didn’t speak so much as impress meaning directly into her mind. Every word carried its true weight alongside it, stripped of ambiguity.

  Maybe that was the most overwhelming part, really.

  Not the scent.

  Not the pressure.

  The emotion.

  A hunger so vast it dwarfed everything else. Like a person dying of thirst seeing water at last. Like meeting a lover after years of separation. Like finding the final thread of hope after clawing through despair with bleeding hands.

  Roselia squared his shoulders.

  He took a small step away from Cynthia.

  “Ros.”

  It is.

  Tsareena smiled.

  Her eyes brightened as Grass-type energy surged around her body—then surged again. The shards of green light flaking from her form multiplied with her excitement, growing larger, sharper, brighter.

  Cynthia reached for Roselia’s Poké Ball on instinct—but even as she grabbed it, she knew she couldn’t recall him. Or, even if she could, she was far too close. Not a single Pokémon stood between her and Tsareena.

  She recalled him—and then what?

  Her team wasn’t strong enough. Johanna wasn’t strong enough. Even the Captain wasn’t strong enough.

  Nobody was strong enough.

  For a heartbeat, the realization stunned her into stillness. Then she stepped forward, desperate to close the distance, to answer in Roselia’s place—

  Myst yanked her back, and the sudden force snapped her out of it.

  “Don’t.” he whispered, hand shivering slightly.

  She sucked in a breath.

  It wouldn’t help.

  If she spoke, it would only give Tsareena a reason to attack.

  She was interested in Roselia, not her.

  She bit her lip, and forced herself to look around instead, and to take in the situation.

  William and the Captain had already closed the distance, their Pokémon poised to strike the instant an opening appeared, holding back only because they were still too close. Behind them stood Brian and his team, battered but unbroken. Karina was just to his left, her Psychic-types faintly glowing with Psychic energy.

  Tsareena almost trembled as she spoke again, her voice no longer commanding—almost hesitant as it echoed across the clearing.

  “Tsareena?”

  Do you remember where you got it?

  Roselia simply stood there for a moment, staring at her.

  Then something like pity entered his eyes.

  “Ros.”

  I don’t.

  He hesitated, gaze drifting over the ruined clearing—the crushed flowerbeds, the fallen Royal Guards, the torn earth and splintered trees. When he turned back to her, he opened his mouth—

  But Tsareena rushed to speak first.

  “Tsar? Tsareena, Tsa?”

  Nothing? Not even a hint? A place, an image?

  Roselia tried to answer, but before he could, Tsareena kept going.

  What about the kingdom—did it feel familiar?

  Did you feel like you were home?

  Did you like it?

  Each question came more hurried than the last, the syllables blurring together until her speech nearly dissolved into noise. Even if it had been Queenie speaking, Cynthia wasn’t sure she could have followed it perfectly.

  The green stone hanging at Tsareena’s neck continued to brighten.

  Did it help you remember?

  It helped, right?

  It felt familiar, right?

  It felt safe, right?

  The questions surged like an avalanche. Like the tide at dawn, relentless and rising. Roselia’s very presence unlocking some part of her that she had desperately been suppressing.

  I needed to make it safe.

  I needed to make sure.

  I needed to keep them out.

  Tsareena’s body twitched, her eyes trembling as desperation bled into every sound she made. A thin line of red crept into her eyes, a single vein standing out—before a pulse of green light washed over it, forcing it back.

  I needed to.

  I needed to.

  I needed to—

  She stopped.

  For a moment, Tsareena seemed to fold in on herself, like a puppet with its strings pulled too tight. Then, abruptly, her entire body snapped toward Tangrowth just behind them.

  She stared at the massive Grass-type as if she could see something no one else could—something far beyond a lifeless husk.

  Slowly her mouth opened, and a single word escaped her lips.

  “Tsa?”

  Mate?

  For a moment the word seemed to hang in the air.

  Then Tsareena blinked, her body stilling again.

  “Tsa.”

  Oh.

  “Tsar.”

  I forgot.

  “Tsare.”

  You’re dead.

  Her face twisted into the same regal expression she had been wearing from the start. She glanced over the trainers standing around, before it landed on the person closest.

  Cynthia.

  “Tsareena.”

  You all killed him.

  Cynthia had barely enough time to register Tsareena’s words before the Grass Terrain vanished and the sense of sudden loss filled her body.

  Tsareena raised a single hand. A small sphere of green type energy hovered above her palm, steady and deliberate, pointed directly at Cynthia.

  “Tsa—”

  The Captain’s voice cut through the clearing.

  “Now.”

  From behind him, a white-furred Pokémon with crimson stripes burst forward, cloaked in Dark-type energy that had been gathering until it was finally visible. Then—before even a heartbeat could pass—black chains of Dark-type energy erupted outward, snapping through the air and racing straight for the stone hanging at Tsareena’s neck.

  Embargo.

  Tsareena snapped around—

  Too late.

  Before the Energy Ball she had been charging could even detonate, dozens of chains had already reached her. They crawled up her legs and torso, slithering across her chest like living things, converging on the relic at her throat.

  She screamed in fury.

  Green energy detonated from her body, raw and violent. Dozens of the black chains simply vanished as she unleashed the Energy Ball in her hand, her Aura surging with enough force to crack the ground beneath her feet.

  But not all of them.

  The survivors twisted together, knotting into a dense sphere of Dark-type energy that slammed over the green shard, sealing it away. Tsareena staggered back under the sudden loss.

  The shards of green light flaking from her body dimmed—

  Then faded entirely.

  Cynthia felt her eyes widen as the barrier that had appeared in front of her faded, revealing Tsareena’s face—twisted with raw fury. Opposite her, having stepped closer, stood the Captain. Karina’s Alakazam hovered at his side, one spoon raised, its eyes glowing in two distinct colors.

  “I will admit it,” the Captain said. “I underestimated you. That relic of yours—making you effectively invincible—I have never seen anything like it.”

  His voice was cool, the same measured tone he had used during the briefing. He shook his head, letting out a small, almost weary sigh.

  “But in the end, you are still a wild Pokémon. You do not understand what having a trainer truly means. What kind of options it gives us.”

  The Captain’s gaze never left Tsareena, even as red strands crept into her eyes, slowly turning them bloodshot.

  “As long as you were fully focused on my Pokémon,” he said calmly, “Zangoose never had the opening to use an Embargo strong enough to even scratch your relic. But you did lose focus.”

  A subtle smile tugged at his lips, faintly mocking.

  “Then again—I suppose it’s hard to blame a wild Pokémon for something like that.”

  Cynthia raised her hand, Roselia’s Poké Ball already in her grip, and recalled him instantly. Her eyes lingered on the Captain for half a heartbeat longer before she turned away, moving quickly alongside Myst—putting as much distance between them and Tsareena as she could.

  Between the Captain and William, six Pokémon still stood.

  What Cynthia hadn’t fully registered until now was just how uneven that balance truly was.

  William had only one Pokémon left.

  The Captain?

  He still had five.

  Of his original team—Ursaring, Purugly, Staraptor, Zangoose, Snorlax, and Tauros—only Snorlax had actually fallen. The rest remained on their feet, battered but steady, still very much ready to fight.

  Either he was simply that much stronger than William—

  —or this had never been a fair comparison.

  Cynthia felt her thoughts crystallize all at once.

  The Captain’s plan had always been Embargo.

  William’s Pokémon hadn’t fallen just because they were weaker, or because Tsareena’s attacks were super effective. They had fallen because they’d been spent—sacrificed deliberately to keep the Captain’s team intact.

  To protect Zangoose.

  To buy time.

  Sure, the Captain had underestimated Tsareena. He hadn’t realized how impossible it would be to pin her down long enough to actually use the move, but there had been a reason for his confidence. As long as five of his Pokémon could suppress her for even a moment—force her attention away—

  —the instant Embargo landed, the fight was over.

  He wouldn’t be fighting a Pokémon empowered by a relic anymore.

  Just a strong Pokémon.

  Myst grabbed Cynthia’s arm, Navi cradled against his chest as he pressed Rei’s Poké Ball back into his belt. Cynthia followed without a word, recalling Riolu and Queenie even as her mind continued to race.

  And yet—

  The Captain shook his head.

  “Let’s end it.”

  At his command, his Pokémon surged forward.

  Tsareena barely had time to react.

  She raised her leg, catching Purugly’s white-glowing claws with a sharp clang. For a moment they were in dead lock, before Tsareen flexed, energy exploding outward—

  Too late.

  Before she could force the catlike Pokémon back Staraptor slammed into her at full speed.

  BOOM!

  The impact sounded like a bomb detonating at close range. Brave Bird shattered Tsareena’s footing completely, sending her hurtling through the air. She spun wildly, a furious cry tearing from her throat as she twisted midair and forced herself upright, green energy gathering in her palm.

  Energy Ball.

  The sphere launched toward Staraptor and Purugly. Both Pokémon flashed white—the telltale glow of Quick Attack—

  —but Ursaring made the preparation irrelevant.

  A blinding white beam erupted from its mouth.

  Hyper Beam.

  The two attacks crashed into one another, and for the first time since the battle began, the green didn’t resist. Hell, it didn’t even falter.

  It simply got erased.

  Stripped of the Meadow Plate’s influence, Tsareena’s Energy Ball disintegrated on contact, unraveling beneath Ursaring’s overwhelming force.

  Midna’s Hyper Beam had been a white light that swallowed the world.

  Ursaring’s reduced it to black and white.

  Tsareena vanished in a burst of light.

  Cynthia didn’t have time to process it.

  One moment she was sprinting, waiting for Navi’s Teleport to pull her and Myst into the tunnel—

  The next, the ground was gone.

  She was airborne.

  The aftershock ripped her clean off her feet, spinning her through the air as the breath was torn from her lungs for what had to be the tenth time that day.

  Luck saved her.

  Instead of slamming into bare earth, she crashed face-first into something soft. Thick, tangled plant matter swallowed her whole as Myst let out a sharp grunt beside her.

  For a split second, she just lay there—stunned, breathless.

  Then it clicked.

  Tangrowth.

  She was lying on the Tangrowth.

  She scrambled, shoving herself free of the mass of vines and rolling off as fast as she could, hitting the ground hard but upright.

  She grabbed for Myst, helping him off the ground and used the moment to look back.

  For the first time since the Captain had engaged Tsareena, it looked like he truly had the upper hand. Tsareena wasn’t fighting back so much as being knocked around. Each blow sent her skidding, the green Aura that had once wrapped her body dimming a little more with every hit.

  She wasn’t invincible anymore.

  Cynthia’s gaze flicked to Lurantis, still standing—drawn closer in a daze. Then to Scovillain, staring at Tsareena with something hollow and broken split across its two faces.

  Karina’s team, William’s, and Brian’s stood ready to intervene.

  They didn’t.

  They didn’t need to.

  Neither Lurantis nor Scovillain moved to help. Scovillain, especially, looked like it had simply… given up. Like a final gamble had failed—and with it, any reason to keep fighting.

  No Meadow Plate.

  No Royal Guard.

  No ability to fight back.

  The moment the Captain had landed Embargo, the fight should have been over. Tsareena breaking focus, letting his Zangoose charge uninterrupted—it should have sealed her fate.

  It should have.

  Beside her, having gotten to his feet, Myst glanced down at Navi, trembling in his arms, completely spent. He recalled her without hesitation, before he turned on his heels.

  Cynthia forced herself to rip her eyes from Tsareena, and followed him.

  Maybe her bad feeling was simply that.

  A bad fee—

  CRACK.

  The sound tore through the battlefield like a tree splitting clean in half.

  Cynthia didn’t stop running, but unable to help herself she cast a glance backwards, towards Tsareena.

  Towards the black energy that clung to her.

  A single, solitary thread of green light burst from the black seal—thin and brilliant, like sunlight forcing its way through into a sealed room. The lock warped, fractures spreading across its surface as the green glow pulsed beneath it, fighting to escape.

  The Captain’s face changed.

  “Zangoose!” He barked.

  It was already too late.

  Even though Zangoose had begun backpedaling before the Captain could get a single word out, Dark-type energy already surging from its body, the seal didn’t hold long enough to matter.

  Not even close.

  For a single heartbeat, the black lock resisted.

  Then—

  It crumbled.

  The fracture lines collapsed inward, and the seal shattered completely.

  A tidal wave of power detonated across the battlefield as Grassy Terrain surged back into existence, green light flooding the ground in every direction. The earth itself seemed to breathe, grass and flowers erupting where stone and dirt had been moments before.

  Tsareena’s Aura—dim, unstable, flickering only an instant ago—exploded.

  Green energy roared outward from her body in a violent bloom, vast and overwhelming, snapping back into place like something reclaiming what had always been its own. The sweet scent that had faded earlier returned stronger than ever, thick enough to make Cynthia’s chest tighten as the air itself grew heavy with it.

  A black chain shot toward Tsareena.

  It didn’t even get close.

  Tsareena didn’t bother forming a move. She barely reacted at all—just a sharp snort as Grass-type energy surged from her Aura and the stone at her neck, washing outward and erasing the chain before it could reach her.

  The Captain’s face went completely expressionless.

  Tsareena didn’t care.

  She lifted a hand and flicked it toward the tunnel.

  Roots erupted from the ground in a violent surge, thick and twisting, exploding upward to seal the exit in a wall of living wood.

  Cynthia ground to a stop beside Myst as she stared at the tunnel, completely sealed mere seconds before they could make it inside.

  “Queenie?” Myst asked.

  She didn’t answer instantly, letting her eyes slide past the initial ones as she tried to estimate how deep they went. It only took a moment to realize the answer.

  “Too deep.” She mumbled.

  Even for Queenie, carving a tunnel wide enough to escape would take minutes.

  “Navi?” she asked.

  Myst bit his lip as his gaze dropped to his belt.

  Cynthia almost didn’t need to hear the answer.

  In theory, Navi still had enough Aura left to fight. In practice, after teleporting that many trainers, she had to be near her limit in terms of her Psychic-type energy. And what Cynthia was asking now wasn’t a clean jump. It would be a blind Teleport into somewhere they’d never been, with no line of sight. Even for a jump this short, there was a very real chance that either she or Myst would be left behind.

  “We could try.”

  BOOOM!

  The ground beneath Cynthia’s feet dipped violently as the shockwave tore across the clearing, newly grown grass buckling under the pressurized air. She staggered, barely keeping her balance, the only thing sparing them from being flung away outright being the bulk of Tangrowth’s massive body.

  The instant she stabilized, she turned.

  And saw what she had known was inevitable from the moment Embargo shattered.

  Tsareena’s leg came down in a blur of green force.

  Zangoose never stood a chance.

  A red beam snapped out an instant later, wrenching the smaller Normal-type from Tsareena’s grasp—but not before the blow landed. Zangoose went limp midair, knocked clean out before he even hit the ground.

  The last chance—

  She blinked.

  “Why isn’t she still—"

  Tsareena moved.

  The ground beneath her feet collapsed into green light as she launched forward, the terrain itself tearing free to propel her body like a living projectile.

  Grassy Glide.

  She didn’t strike Ursaring so much as erase the distance between them.

  Ursaring roared and threw its weight forward, massive body slamming down as it tried to meet her with a Body Slam—

  The impact never became a contest.

  Tsareena struck the Normal-type like a battering ram wrapped in condensed Grass-type energy. The collision detonated outward, the shockwave flattening the air as Ursaring’s entire frame folded, its attack shattering before it could fully form.

  The bear Pokémon was lifted clean off its feet.

  Bone-jarring force ripped through it as it was hurled backward, its bulk carving a trench through freshly grown earth before crashing into stone hard enough to crack it.

  The ground rang.

  Cynthia didn’t even glance at where Ursaring landed and instead she slowly closed her mouth.

  Something was wrong.

  Before, green light had flaked off Tsareena’s body with every movement—excess power bleeding away, Aura vented before it could build to dangerous levels. Now those shards were gone. Instead, the green along her form deepened with every passing second, saturating until her shape blurred and began to dissolve into a mass of green light.

  “Still what?” Myst asked.

  More Aura. Denser Aura. Those were things every Pokémon wanted. Aura was protection. Aura was survival.

  But even that had limits.

  It wasn’t common knowledge, but studies had been done on it. Most people believed boosting moves only capped out because of control—that a Pokémon could only handle so much power at once. Cynthia knew better. There was a second, far more dangerous reason.

  There was only so much density a Pokémon could withstand.

  In the end, how much Aura a body could contain depended on the body itself. And that meant there was a hard limit—only so much Aura or Type Energy could be compressed before the body began to tear itself apart.

  When she first appeared Tsareena had been managing it—bleeding power off deliberately, only drawing fully on the Meadow Plate when she needed to, careful not to let it overwhelm her.

  Now?

  She was drowning in it.

  If she kept going like this, she might wipe out everyone here—but there was just as much chance she’d tear herself apart first.

  Cynthia forced her gaze away, past where William, Karina, and Brian were barely holding Lurantis at bay, and locked onto the only Pokémon not fighting.

  Scovillain.

  She didn’t know what was going on with it. She didn’t know why it had acted the way it had—or why it was still just standing there.

  But she knew one thing.

  It was the only Pokémon left strong enough to do something.

  “Myst,” she said slowly, without taking her eyes off it. “Could Navi connect me to Scovillain from here?”

  “Why?” he asked immediately.

  “Could she?”

  Myst exhaled, glancing down at his side.

  “She could…” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “But only if it’s not channeling Dark-type energy like it was before.” He shook his head once. “And even then, if it works, it’s going to drain Navi even more. Make a blind Teleport a lot less likely to succeed cleanly.”

  “Try it.”

  A flick of his wrist, a red beam, and Navi stood at his side, swaying just slightly as she caught herself.

  “Navi,” he said quickly, before she could even fully orient herself. “Can you connect Scovillain to Cynthia?”

  Navi drew in a single breath. She steadied, straightening despite the tremor running through her body. She didn’t ask a question.

  She closed her eyes.

  Her orange horns flared, light spilling outward in sharp, uneven pulses.

  Something touched her mind.

  No.

  Not something.

  Somethings.

  Scovillain?

  Attention settled on her—heavy, oppressive, so dense it forced her eyes shut completely. But even as it lingered, there was no voice. No image. No emotion she could clearly name.

  Just presence.

  Seconds dragged by as Cynthia fought to steady herself, scrambling for the right way to speak. Did Scovillain want to help Tsareena? Stop her?

  She had no way of knowing.

  Maybe—

  She was almost too slow.

  Something dark brushed against the edge of the connection—a sense of withdrawal, of slipping away. As if whatever stood on the other side might simply… vanish in the next heartbeat.

  Panic tore through her.

  Forget careful phrasing.

  She blurted the first thing that came to mind.

  Tsareena is going to die.

  The link snapped taut instantly, the fading sensation vanishing.

  What do you mean?

  The words slammed into her mind, echoed and amplified, loud enough that she felt herself physically flinch.

  She continued anyway.

  The relic, she can’t control it anymore.

  She is taking too much energy.

  For a second, there was only silence. Then something like a sigh echoed back through the link, carrying a bitter, hollow clarity.

  The link cut out as suddenly as it began.

  Fuck.

  Cynthia snapped her eyes open, gaze flying straight to Navi.

  Did she still have enough energy to—

  Silence.

  The thought died mid-breath.

  Cynthia felt it before she fully understood it. The absence. No clash of moves. No shouts. No roar of William, Karina, or Brian’s teams fighting Lurantis. No thunder of the Captain’s Pokémon hammering Tsareena desperately.

  Just… quiet.

  Slowly, she tore her eyes away from Navi and looked up toward where the battle had been.

  Only two of the Captain’s Pokémon remained on the field—Ursaring and Tauros. Both were barely standing, chests heaving, bodies marred with dirt and shaking with exhaustion.

  They stood protectively in front of the Captain.

  The Rangers had regrouped around him, packed close in a way that needed no explanation. They were ready to cut their losses—to Teleport out the instant they were given even a second of breathing room.

  Cynthia wasn’t looking at them.

  Her gaze was locked on the space ahead.

  Scovillain stood there.

  Tsareena stood there.

  From a distance, it almost looked like Tsareena was holding the Grass–Fire type. One arm around its shoulder. Another at its chest. An embrace.

  But that wasn’t it.

  The lower arm wasn’t wrapped around Scovillain’s chest.

  It was going—

  through it.

  Cynthia’s thoughts went blank.

  For a second, she wasn’t seeing Scovillain. Wasn’t seeing the grass-choked clearing or the field of flowers or smelling the cloying sweetness in the air.

  She smelled blood and wet dirt, mixing into an unmistakable stench.

  She saw a shattered house. A storm-soaked night.

  She saw a Zoroark, clutching an egg, laying unmoving on the ground.

  She had only wanted Scovillain to hold Tsareena back for a moment—just long enough for them to escape. To give it the chance to calm her, to loosen her grip on the relic.

  A win-win.

  How?

  Scovillain had been the strongest of the Royal Guard. It had taken damage, yes—but nowhere near enough for Tsareena to do this in a single blow. It was simply impossible. Scovillain’s Aura was perfectly suited to tank her attacks, the damage it took being reduced to a fraction by typing alone.

  So only explanation came to mind.

  Scovillain had withdrawn its Aura.

  Made the same choice Zoroark had to avoid fainting—the same choice most Pokémon made only when they knew they would die anyway.

  But—

  Why?

  The thought didn’t fully form before her body moved. Cynthia took a slow, unsteady step forward, something raw and wordless clawing its way up her throat, half scream and half denial.

  A flash of light cut her off as Karina’s Alakazam appeared at her side, gripping her and Myst, ready to Teleport them both away.

  No!

  She ripped her arm free.

  It wasn’t anything conscious. It wasn’t for a good reason.

  It was stupid.

  And yet, even as she scrambled away from Alakazam—eyes locked on Tsareena and Scovillain—she just knew. If this was the last thing she saw before being torn away she would shatter.

  Not bend.

  Not crack.

  Break.

  Then Scovillain smiled.

  It was a small, mischievous smile—like an older brother watching a younger sister do something unbearably stupid.

  He lifted one hand and rested it against Tsareena’s chest.

  Give me it.

  His voice rang out clearly as the green glow around Tsareena pulsed.

  No one else could see it, but Tsareena’s eyes dropped. Bloodshot, thin red fractures creeping into her irises from every direction, she stared down at the small Pokémon before her. Only her outline was truly visible now—the rest of her form swallowed by the overwhelming green radiance of her Aura.

  And yet, her words were perfectly clear.

  Why?

  Scovillain shrugged.

  Without it, I die.

  Tsareena was silent for a few seconds. Then she tilted her head, slow and deliberate.

  Why should I care?

  Scovillain laughed softly—then coughed, the sound wet and wrong.

  Maybe you shouldn’t.

  You found your mate, right?

  Red scarf around his neck, reminding you of home.

  Tsareena went still.

  Do not speak of him.

  He’s dead.

  They killed him.

  Scovillain sighed.

  He was dead anyway.

  Stronger than you, but unable to control it.

  Not like you.

  The Grass–Fire Pokémon glanced toward Tangrowth.

  A pity.

  Strong enough to claim territory, to help you, but—

  He faltered as Tsareena pressed her arm against his chest.

  Shut your mouth!

  You will never understand him!

  He was the only one—

  Scovillain cut her off, even as one of his heads twisted in visible pain.

  Like you?

  With a red scarf?

  That could understand what you felt?

  Scovillain coughed again—but kept going.

  Did you not just find another?

  Why did that not change anything?

  Did you not do all this to save them?

  For a moment, Tsareena didn’t move. Then she stepped back, wrenching her arm free from Scovillain’s chest.

  Her form was radiant. A being of pure Grass-type energy. More Aura than flesh. A Legend made manifest.

  It will.

  I will save them.

  You are not needed for that.

  Scovillain stumbled forward, barely managing to stay upright as its hand slipped from Tsareena’s chest. Still, both heads lifted to look at her.

  It didn’t say anything.

  It didn’t need to.

  Fire-type energy surged outward from its body, controlled and deliberate, shaped until it flowed like water. It coiled around his neck, stabilizing, condensing—

  A red scarf.

  Tsareena froze.

  You lie.

  Scovillain met her gaze.

  It was only me and him.

  Scovillain shrugged.

  We were alone.

  Then he leaned forward, reaching for the stone at her throat.

  She tried to pull back.

  Failed.

  Scovillain collapsed into her instead.

  I need it.

  Please.

  Tsareena stared down at him as both of Scovillain’s heads looked up at her.

  You already know right?

  We were three.

  Not two.

  A wet, rasping laugh bubbled up from his throat.

  The green head opened its mouth.

  And technically—

  The red head finished.

  —we still are.

  For a second, Scovillain just stood there. Then the laughter faded. Scovillain’s hand slid weakly down her chest—and fell limp at its side.

  Tsareena made a sound.

  Not a cry.

  Not a scream.

  Something wounded.

  Something broken.

  Something whose world had just ended.

  Without another word, she clawed at her chest—fingers tearing through the red scarf as if it were nothing. Fabric ripped. Threads snapped. Her hand closed around the fragment of the Meadow Plate—

  —and with shaking hands, she pressed it into Scovillain.

  For a fraction of a second, the world seemed to hold its breath.

  Then Tsareena’s Aura shattered.

  Not in an explosion—but in a collapse.

  The immense green presence that had dominated the battlefield fractured inward, breaking apart in jagged sheets of light. Cracks raced across the Aura cocoon surrounding her body, splintering like glass as her connection to the Meadow Plate fragment was severed.

  She collapsed like a puppet whose string got cut.

  Cynthia stared at the place where Tsareena fell—where the overwhelming monarch, the embodiment of Grass-type majesty, had simply… gone still.

  Then her gaze shifted.

  To Scovillain.

  A pale green light flowed from the fragment resting against its chest, like a sprout pushing through soil. Quiet. Unassuming. Something she almost overlooked.

  The effect was still undeniable.

  Slowly, the wound at Scovillain’s chest began to mend, green energy stitching it closed thread by thread. After a second, it was simply… gone.

  Then Scovillain trembled.

  It stumbled, caught itself, and pushed unsteadily to its feet. One hand closed around the Meadow Plate fragment as it looked down at Tsareena’s unconscious form. Without a word, it lowered itself, slid an arm beneath her shoulders and another under her legs—

  And lifted her in a careful, almost reverent princess carry.

  Then it turned toward the tunnel.

  Cynthia met its gaze as it passed. The smeared red that had once clouded its eyes was gone, stripped away in the struggle—leaving behind nothing but clear, blank black.

  Scovillain was suddenly beside her.

  The green stone in his hands pulsed once.

  Thanks.

  Then Scovillain was gone, the only sign left of the Fire-Grass type being a hole burned clean through the roots sealing the tunnel.

  Cynthia just let out a laugh.

  Sharp. Broken.

  Breathless. Delirious.

  Happy to be alive.

  Happy that, this time—

  Everyone was.