Chapter 36: Briv's Full Roster
The eastern road out of Aethelburg was a ribbon of white stone cutting through emerald hills, the crystal spires of the capital shrinking behind them with every step. The morning sun painted the sky in shades of rose and gold, and the air carried the clean bite of approaching autumn.
Briv walked at the front of the group, Piplup at his side. The little Water-type had been quiet since they'd left the observatory at dawn—not withdrawn, exactly, but thoughtful. Processing. Its flippers swung in rhythm with Briv's stride, and occasionally it would glance up at him with those sad, gentle eyes, as if checking that he was still there.
Progress. Small, but real.
Behind them, Patricia was deep in conversation with Dariana, Magby cradled in her arms while Eevee rode on Dariana's shoulder. The two Pokémon kept reaching for each other—tiny hands and fluffy paws stretching across the space between their trainers—and every time they touched, Patricia and Dariana would exchange a look that was equal parts amusement and exhaustion.
"They're going to be a handful," Nicola observed from Briv's left. Her Starly perched on her shoulder, scanning the horizon with sharp, vigilant eyes. "Fire and normal. That's a lot of energy for one team."
"Speaking from experience?"
"I've got a Magnemite that won't stop analyzing everything and a Skorupi that refuses to back down from fights it can't win." She shrugged. "Energy isn't the problem. Direction is."
"And you've got direction?"
"I've got a plan." Nicola's sharp brown eyes flicked toward him. "What about you?"
Briv didn't answer immediately. He was thinking about his team—six Pokémon, or close to it. Chimchar, Turtwig, Piplup, Shinx, Gible. Five. One short of a full roster. One short of complete.
"I'll know when I see it," he said.
Nicola snorted. "That's not a plan. That's a hope."
"Same thing, most days."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while. The road curved through a stretch of woodland, ancient oaks and silver birches crowding close to the path, their branches interlaced overhead like fingers. Sunlight filtered through in patches, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of gold and shadow.
Samuel had drifted to the back of the group, his Doduo trotting alongside him while Aipom swung through the trees above. Every few minutes, he would hum a few bars of something—a melody that seemed to rise organically from the rhythm of their footsteps—and Aipom would chirp along, its tail-hand keeping time.
Axel walked alone, as always. His Rotom flickered in and out of visibility, sometimes a lamp, sometimes a fan, sometimes just a crackling presence at his shoulder. He hadn't spoken since they'd left the observatory, but his eyes were everywhere—scanning the trees, the road, the sky. Looking for threats.
Always looking.
Briv was about to ask him something—something about the Eclipse Squad, about their next move, about the strange, tense silence that had settled over him since the eggs hatched—when he saw it.
A flash of blue.
Small. Fast. Moving through the underbrush about fifty meters ahead, darting between the trees with a grace that seemed almost choreographed.
Briv stopped walking.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"See what?" Nicola's hand moved instinctively toward her belt.
"Something in the trees. Blue. Fast."
They waited. The forest held its breath.
Then it appeared again—closer this time, curious rather than cautious. A small, bipedal Pokémon with sleek blue fur and black markings that swept across its face like a mask. Its ears were tall and pointed, tipped with sensitive antennae that twitched as it studied them. Its tail was a flowing ribbon of blue that moved with an elegance that seemed almost impossible.
But it was its eyes that held Briv's attention. Dark red, sharp and knowing, they looked at him with an intelligence that felt almost human.
"A Riolu," Nicola breathed. "Holy shit."
Briv's heart hammered against his ribs.
Riolu. The Emanation Pokémon. A Fighting-type with the rare ability to sense the emotions and auras of others—to read the hearts of humans and Pokémon alike. They were notoriously difficult to catch. Not because they were powerful—they were small, relatively weak compared to fully evolved Pokémon—but because they were discerning. They chose their trainers. Not the other way around.
This one was watching him.
Not Nicola. Not Patricia or Dariana or Samuel. Not Axel.
Him.
"Briv," Patricia said softly, coming up beside him. "Do you see it?"
"I see it."
Magby stirred in her arms, its flame-crest brightening with curiosity. Eevee's ears perked up, and it let out a soft, questioning chirp.
The Riolu tilted its head. Its aura-sensing organs—the black appendages that hung from the sides of its head—flared slightly, as if tasting the air. Tasting them.
Then it smiled.
It was a small expression—barely a quirk of the lips, barely a shift in those knowing eyes—but it was unmistakable. The Riolu was amused.
"Are you going to catch it?" Samuel asked from behind them. "Because if you're not, I might—"
"No." The word came out sharper than Briv intended. He took a breath, forced himself to relax. "No. This one's mine."
He unclipped Gible's ball from his belt.
The Riolu's ears twitched. Its eyes tracked the movement with unnerving precision—not fear, but assessment. Calculation. It knew what a Poké Ball was. It knew what was coming.
And it didn't run.
"Gible," Briv said. "Let's go."
The flash of light resolved into the small, round form of his Dragon-type, its massive mouth already open in a yawn. Gible blinked sleepily, looked around, and then spotted the Riolu.
Its eyes went wide.
"Gible," Briv said again, more firmly. "Focus. This isn't a game."
The little Dragon-type shook itself, scattering the last traces of drowsiness. Its jaws snapped shut with a click. It planted its stubby feet on the road and stared at the Riolu with an intensity that Briv recognized—the same intensity it had shown when it hatched, when it faced its first opponent, when it decided that this world was worth fighting for.
The Riolu's smile widened.
It vanished.
Briv's heart lurched. "Gible—left!"
Gible spun, jaws gaping, just as the Riolu reappeared in a blur of blue directly beside it. The Fighting-type's fist connected with Gible's flank—a sharp, precise strike that sent the Dragon-type skidding across the stones.
"Sand attack!" Briv shouted.
Gible obeyed instantly, kicking up a spray of dust and grit. The Riolu danced backward, avoiding the worst of it, but not all—its sleek fur was smeared with gray, and one eye squinted shut.
"Now—Dragon Rage!"
The purple energy gathered in Gible's mouth, crackling and bright. It released with a roar, a beam of draconic power that tore through the air where the Riolu had been standing.
Had been.
The Riolu was already gone, flipping through the air in a twist that would have made Dariana jealous. It landed behind Gible and lashed out with a kick that caught the Dragon-type square in the back.
Gible stumbled forward, but didn't fall. It whipped around, jaws snapping, and the Riolu barely avoided losing an ear.
"Quick Attack!" Briv shouted.
Gible blurred forward, faster than Briv had ever seen it move. The Riolu's eyes widened—surprise, maybe, or respect—and then it was forced onto the defensive, dancing and dodging while Gible snapped and clawed and refused to give ground.
They were evenly matched. No—that wasn't right. The Riolu was faster, more experienced, more precise. But Gible was relentless. Stubborn. Every time the Riolu landed a hit, Gible shook it off and came back harder. Every time the Riolu dodged, Gible didn't slow down—it just adjusted, recalibrated, attacked again.
The fight became a blur of blue and orange, of snapping jaws and flashing fists. Dust rose in clouds around them. The other Pokémon had gathered at the edge of the road, watching with wide eyes—Buneary clutching Patricia's leg, Aipom frozen mid-swing in the trees, Starly circling overhead and screeching encouragement.
"Gible's not going to win this," Nicola said quietly. "The Riolu is too fast."
"He doesn't have to win," Briv said. "He just has to wear it down."
"He's the one getting worn down."
Briv didn't answer. He was watching the fight with every ounce of focus he had—tracking the Riolu's movements, the patterns, the tiny hesitations that preceded each strike. He'd seen something. Something the Riolu didn't realize it was doing.
Every time the Fighting-type dodged to the right, it paused for a fraction of a second. A hesitation. A tell.
"Gible!" he shouted. "Dragon Rage—now!"
The purple energy gathered again. The Riolu tensed, preparing to dodge right—but this time, Gible didn't aim at it. The Dragon Rage tore into the ground at the Riolu's feet, exploding in a burst of stone and dirt that sent the Fighting-type tumbling sideways.
It landed hard. Its breath came in ragged gasps. For the first time, Briv saw something other than confidence in those red eyes.
He reached for an empty Poké Ball and threw it.
The ball arced through the air, spinning end over end. The Riolu's eyes tracked it—too late. It hit the Fighting-type square in the chest, popping open in a flash of red light that swallowed the Pokémon whole.
The ball landed on the road. It wobbled once. Twice.
Three times.
Briv's heart stopped.
Then clicked.
The silence that followed was profound. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath, the birds pausing in their songs, the wind dying to a whisper.
Gible turned to look at Briv, its massive mouth hanging open in what might have been surprise. Then it collapsed onto its back, exhausted, its tiny chest heaving.
Briv walked forward on legs that felt like water. He picked up the Poké Ball, cradled it in both hands, and stared at the small, warm sphere that held his sixth Pokémon.
"Did you see that?" he whispered.
"I saw it," Patricia said. She was crying—again—but smiling through the tears. "Of course I saw it. We all saw it."
"You caught a Riolu," Nicola said. There was something in her voice that Briv had never heard before—something that might have been respect. Or awe. Or both. "You actually caught a Riolu."
"Gible caught it."
Gible let out a weak, affirmative sound from where it lay sprawled on the road.
"Gible softened it up. You caught it." Nicola shook her head. "That's—that's not fair. You don't get to be League champion and catch a Riolu on the same journey."
"Watch me."
The ball warm against his palm, Briv pressed the release. The Riolu materialized in front of him, blinking in the morning light. It looked exhausted—bruised, dusty, one ear slightly bent—but it was standing. Still fighting. Still proud.
"That was a good fight," Briv said. "You're incredible. I've never seen a Pokémon move like that."
The Riolu tilted its head. Its aura-sensing appendages flared, tasting his words, his emotions. Whatever it found made its eyes soften.
"You don't have to trust me," Briv said. "Not yet. But I want you to know—I'm not going to command you. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. We can figure this out together. As partners."
The Riolu looked at him for a long moment.
Then it stepped forward and placed its paw against his chest.
It was a gesture Briv didn't recognize—something ancient, something sacred. A greeting, maybe. A vow. The paw was warm against his shirt, and beneath it, his heart beat steady and sure.
"Welcome to the team," he said.
The Riolu nodded once.
And then, without warning, it collapsed.
Patricia was at his side instantly, Magby still in her arms. "Is it okay? Did you push it too hard?"
"She's exhausted," Briv said, catching the Riolu before it hit the ground. "But she's okay. She just needs rest."
"She?"
"Just a feeling." He cradled the small Fighting-type against his chest. "We'll figure it out."
They made camp by the side of the road, in a small clearing sheltered by ancient oak trees. Samuel gathered wood—or rather, directed Aipom to gather wood while he supervised from a comfortable perch on a mossy log. Patricia tended to Riolu, cleaning the dust from her fur and checking for any serious injuries. Dariana and Nicola set up the tents, while Axel stood guard at the edge of the clearing, his Rotom flitting through the trees in a constant, watchful orbit.
Pachirisu had emerged from its ball and was now curled up beside Dariana's Eevee, the two of them fast asleep in a patch of sunlight. Shellos pulsed gently nearby, its soft body glistening with moisture. Budew had planted itself in the center of the clearing and was staring at a butterfly with an expression of profound wonder. Buneary sat at Patricia's side, its ears drooping with exhaustion, while Magby dozed in the shade.
Briv sat apart, Gible curled in his lap and Piplup at his side. The little Water-type had been quiet all through the battle—watching, observing, processing. Now it pressed its flipper against Briv's knee and looked up at him with those sad, knowing eyes.
"You did good out there," Briv said. "Both of you."
Gible grunted.
"I mean it. You didn't win the fight—you wore it down until I could. That's not the same as winning, but it's just as important. You understood the strategy. You trusted me even when it hurt."
Gible's eyes flickered up at him, then away. Its tail twitched.
"Piplup." Briv turned to the Water-type. "I see you. I know you're still figuring this out. But you did something today too—you stayed. You watched. You trusted Gible to handle it. That matters."
Piplup didn't answer. But it didn't pull away, either.
"You're going to be okay," Briv said. "All of us are."
Patricia joined him a few minutes later, settling onto the ground with a sigh. Her red egg was in her lap, warm and steady, and Magby had finally fallen asleep in her arms.
"How's Riolu?" Briv asked.
"Resting. She's strong—stronger than she looks. She'll be up in a few hours." Patricia leaned against him. "You did something incredible today."
"Gible did something incredible. I just threw a ball."
"You knew when to throw it." She kissed his cheek. "You read the Riolu's pattern. You saw the hesitation. That's not luck—that's skill."
"Maybe."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the forest. Somewhere in the distance, Samuel was singing—a quiet melody that weaved through the trees like a river. Aipom's tail kept the beat. Even Nicola, who rarely relaxed, had closed her eyes, Magnemite hovering gently beside her.
"We're getting closer," Patricia said finally. "To the Eclipse Squad, to whatever they're planning—we're getting closer."
"And closer to finishing our teams." Briv looked at the Poké Ball on his belt, the one that held his newest partner. "Six Pokémon. A full team."
"Me too. Once my egg hatches."
"That's going to be something."
"It better be. I've been carrying this egg for weeks." She stroked the red shell. "I wonder what's inside."
"Whatever it is—it chose you."
"Just like Riolu chose you?"
"Just like that."
The Riolu stirred in her sleep—a small movement, a flicker of consciousness. Briv watched her face, at the way her ears twitched, the way her paws clenched against invisible opponents. Even at rest, she was fighting.
He understood that.
They all did.
Piplup waddled over to the Riolu's side and sat down beside her—a silent sentinel, a quiet promise. The two of them would become something, Briv realized. Something important. The Water-type and the Fighting-type, both wounded, both proud, both refusing to give up.
Just like their trainer.
"You ready?" Patricia asked softly.
"For what?"
"For whatever comes next."
Briv looked at his team—Piplup, resting beside Riolu; Gible, dozing in his lap; Chimchar, Turtwig, Shinx, all safe in their balls. He looked at his friends—Patricia and Dariana, Samuel and Nicola, even Axel, who was still watching the horizon with those cold, calculating eyes. He looked at the road ahead, stretching into the distance, toward cities he'd never seen, battles he'd never fought, enemies he'd never imagined.
"No," he said. "But I'm not going to stop anyway."
Patricia smiled. "That's what I love about you."
They stayed in the clearing until late afternoon, resting, recovering, preparing. By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, Riolu was awake—still weak, still bruised, but standing. She walked over to Briv on unsteady legs and looked up at him with those knowing eyes.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded.
The group packed up their camp and returned to the road, heading east toward the next city, toward whatever waited for them in the shadows of Elyssia. Briv walked at the front, Riolu at his side. Piplup walked on his other flank. Behind them, Chimchar and Turtwig had emerged from their balls, joined by Shinx, who bounded forward to investigate the new Pokémon with bright-eyed curiosity.
Riolu regarded Shinx with a solemn expression. Then she reached down and patted the Electric-type on the head. Shinx's tail star sparked with joy.
"There's something you should know," Nicola said, falling into step beside him. "About Riolu. About what she is."
Briv glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"Riolu evolve into Lucario. Through friendship, during the day. It's rare—incredibly rare. Most trainers never see it happen." She paused. "But they're also said to sense the hearts of others. To see auras. To know who people really are, beneath the masks they wear."
"I know."
"So you understand what it means that she chose you."
Briv looked down at Riolu. The Fighting-type looked back, her red eyes steady, her aura-sensing appendages flaring gently as she tasted his emotions.
"She saw something," Briv said slowly. "Didn't she?"
"She saw you. The real you." Nicola's voice was softer than he'd ever heard it. "The person who fights for his friends, who refuses to give up, who takes a broken Pokémon and gives it a home. She saw all of it."
"And she still chose me?"
"She chose you because of it."
The words settled over him like a blanket. Heavy, but warm.
"I'm going to be honest," Briv said. "I don't know if I deserve that kind of trust."
"Doesn't matter. She gave it anyway." Nicola nudged his shoulder. "Now you have to live up to it."
She dropped back to walk with Dariana, leaving Briv alone with his thoughts and his Pokémon.
The road stretched ahead, white and endless, winding through hills that rolled like waves toward the horizon. The sky was a cathedral of light—pink and gold and violet, layered like a painting. Somewhere beyond those hills, the Eclipse Squad was plotting, the eggs were waiting, the future was looming.
But here, now, Briv had six Pokémon.
A full team.
A family.
And no matter what came next, that was something they couldn't take away from him.
Riolu's paw found his hand. He looked down. She was watching him with those knowing eyes, and for a moment, he felt like she could see everything—his fears, his hopes, his failures, his dreams. All of it, laid bare.
She squeezed his hand.
And Briv squeezed back.
"Let's go," he said.