Chapter 43: The Rosters Are Now Full
The plains had given way to something older.
Rocky outcroppings jutted from the earth like the broken teeth of some ancient beast, their surfaces weathered and pitted, their shadows deep and cold. The grass here was sparse and yellowed, struggling to survive in soil that had long since given up on fertility. In the distance, mountains rose against the sky—not the gentle slopes of the Elysian range, but jagged peaks that clawed at the clouds like they were trying to tear the heavens open.
Patricia hated it.
Not because it was ugly—though it was certainly that—but because it felt wrong. Like walking through a graveyard. The air tasted of dust and old stone, and every gust of wind carried the faint, mineral smell of something buried too long.
"We're getting close," Axel said, consulting a map that looked older than he was. "The Eclipse Squad's secondary base is in the mountains ahead. We should reach it by nightfall."
"How close is close?" Nicola asked. Her Skorupi was walking beside her for once, its small legs working hard to keep pace. "Because I'm getting tired of walking."
"Patience."
"I've got patience. I'm just not a fan of surprises."
Briv glanced back at her. "And yet you're still here."
"Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."
Despite everything, he smiled. "Appreciate it."
They walked on, the terrain growing rougher with every step. Chimchar had retreated to his Poké Ball after cutting its foot on a sharp rock, and Briv felt the absence like a missing limb. His team was strong—he knew that—but the ground here was hostile in ways that had nothing to do with Pokémon.
Patricia walked beside him, her Buneary riding on her shoulder like a living scarf. She'd been quiet all morning, her eyes scanning the landscape with that particular intensity she got when something was bothering her.
"You okay?" Briv asked.
"Something's out there."
"What?"
"I don't know." She stopped, her boots crunching against loose gravel. "But Buizel's been agitated since dawn. That's usually a sign."
Buizel was in its ball. But Patricia had raised the water-type long enough to trust its instincts—and those instincts had saved them before.
"Good sign or bad sign?"
"Sign sign."
The path sloped upward, winding through boulders the size of small houses. The wind here was harsh, whipping dust into their faces, forcing them to squint against the grit. Samuel pulled his dreadlocks back with a strip of cloth, his Doduo scanning the rocks with both heads swiveling in constant alertness.
Dariana had sent out her Gallade, the psychic-fighting type moving ahead as a scout. Its blade-arms gleamed in the afternoon light, and its red eyes missed nothing.
"Something's here," Gallade's voice echoed in Dariana's mind. "Something strong."
She held up a hand. "Wait."
They stopped.
And then they heard it.
A low, rhythmic thumping. Like a heartbeat. Like a war drum. Like the sound of something primal and unyielding, rising from the earth itself.
Patricia felt the vibration through her boots. She looked past Briv, past Axel, past the boulders that lined the path.
And she saw it.
---
A Cranidos stood on a ridge about fifty yards ahead.
It was smaller than most—maybe three feet tall—but its body was dense with muscle, its skull thick with bone, its eyes small and dark and utterly without fear. It stood on two powerful legs, its tail balancing its weight, its claws dug deep into the stone beneath it.
It was pounding its head against the rock.
Not in frustration. Not in confusion. In practice.
The impact seemed to shake the ground with every collision, and the rock beneath it was cracked and scarred from countless similar blows. The Cranidos paused, its head hanging low, then spun and slammed its skull into the same spot again. Another crack. Another tremor. Then again. And again.
"Holy shit," Samuel said.
"It's training," Nicola said. "It's training its skull."
"It's a damn battering ram," Axel muttered.
But Patricia only saw the Cranidos.
She'd read about them, of course. Cranidos were extinct in most of Elyssia, their species only surviving in the most remote mountain ranges. They were stubborn, aggressive, and almost impossible to tame—their skulls were so dense that they could shatter stone, and their tempers were legendary even among Pokémon.
But they were also fiercely loyal. And they understood strength. True strength.
"Patricia," Briv said. "Whatever you're thinking—"
"I want it."
"—you're thinking about catching it."
She was already moving forward.
---
The Cranidos spotted her when she was still thirty yards away.
It stopped mid-slam, its head turning slowly, its eyes locking onto her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. For a long moment, it just stared—measuring her, judging her, weighing her against whatever instincts drove a creature whose ancestors had survived by facing down predators ten times their size.
Patricia stopped.
She didn't reach for a Poké Ball. Not yet. That was the first mistake inexperienced trainers made—throwing a ball before the Pokémon had a chance to see you. Before it had a chance to respect you.
"You see me," she said quietly. "Good. Now let's see if you're worth my time."
She pulled Buizel's ball from her belt and released him in a flash of light.
The water-type materialized on the ground before her, its orange fur bright against the gray stone, its twin tails flicking with anticipation. It stretched, cracking its neck, and then fixed its eyes on the Cranidos with a look that said: finally.
"You want this one?" Patricia asked.
Buizel nodded.
"Then show me."
---
Cranidos attacked first.
It launched itself forward without warning, its legs driving it across the distance in seconds, its head lowered, its skull gleaming like a missile. Buizel responded instantly—Aqua Jet, a burst of water propelling him sideways—and Cranidos slammed into the spot where he'd been standing, shattering the rock into a thousand pieces.
Patricia felt the shockwave through the ground.
"Speed," she said. "That's your advantage. Use it."
Buizel circled, water streaming from his fur, his eyes tracking the Cranidos's every movement. The rock-type was already turning, already charging again, its footwork clumsy but relentless—each step heavy, each stride purposeful.
Buizel dodged again. And again. And again.
The Cranidos kept coming, its frustration mounting with every missed blow. It wasn't used to missing. In these mountains, nothing outran its charges. Nothing could.
But Buizel wasn't just fast. He was precise. Every time the Cranidos struck, he was already gone—already moving—already setting up the next counter.
"Aqua Tail," Patricia called.
Buizel spun, water forming around his tail as he swung it into the Cranidos's flank. The impact landed hard, and the Cranidos staggered—but only for a moment. It recovered, shaking its head, its eyes burning with fresh anger.
Then it charged again.
This time, it was smarter. Instead of aiming straight at Buizel, it veered at the last moment, catching him off guard. The skull clipped Buizel's shoulder, sending him tumbling across the rocky ground.
"Buizel!" Patricia shouted.
But her Pokémon was already up, already back on his feet, already glaring at the Cranidos with a determination that matched her own. A thin trickle of blood ran down his arm, but he didn't seem to notice.
He wasn't fast enough. Not yet. But he would be.
"Water gun," Patricia said. "Hit it from range."
A stream of water shot from Buizel's mouth, striking the Cranidos in the face. Steam rose where the water met the heated rock of its skull—not hot enough to hurt, but distracting. The Cranidos shook its head, momentarily blinded.
"Now. Aqua Jet."
Buizel launched himself forward, water spiraling around him, and slammed into the Cranidos's chest. The impact drove the rock-type back—one step, two—but it didn't fall. Its claws dug into the ground, its legs braced, and it absorbed the blow like a living wall.
"That's not enough," Dariana called from behind. "You need to hit it where it's vulnerable. Its legs are thin—"
"I know," Patricia cut her off. "I'm working on it."
She studied the Cranidos. Its stance. Its movements. Its eyes.
Stubborn. Relentless. Primal.
But not stupid. It learned as it fought. It adapted. It was tough, but it was also clever—and that was what made it worth catching.
"Buizel, I need you to trust me," Patricia said.
Buizel glanced back at her, curious.
"Let it charge you. Don't move until the last second."
Buizel nodded.
The Cranidos charged.
Time slowed. Patricia watched as the rock-type lowered its head, its legs pumping, its claws tearing grooves into the stone. She watched Buizel stand his ground—watch the distance close—watch the Cranidos's skull flash in the afternoon light.
"Now!"
Buizel dodged at the perfect angle, shifting just enough that the Cranidos's momentum carried it past him. Off-balance, exposed, vulnerable. Buizel slammed an Aqua Tail into its knee, and the Cranidos stumbled, one leg buckling beneath it.
It crashed to the ground.
For a moment, it didn't move. Its breath came in ragged gasps, its muscles trembling with exhaustion. Buizel stood over it, chest heaving, waiting for a command.
Patricia reached for an empty Poké Ball.
"You fought well," she said softly. "You're strong. You're stubborn. You might be exactly what I need."
She tossed the ball.
It struck the Cranidos's side and opened with a flash of red light. The rock-type was drawn inside, and the ball fell to the ground, shaking once. Twice. Three times.
Silence.
Then a click.
---
Patricia's hands were shaking.
She bent down and picked up the ball, holding it in both palms. It was warm—warmer than a Poké Ball should be—and she could feel the weight of the Pokémon inside. The stubbornness. The strength. The potential.
"You did it," Briv said, approaching her. He put a hand on her shoulder. "You actually caught a Cranidos."
"I did."
She clipped the ball to her belt. Six Pokémon. Her roster was full—strong, diverse, built from months of struggle and refinement and moments of pure, terrifying chance.
And for the first time in a year, she felt whole.
"Six," she said. "I've got six."
Buizel walked up to her, limping slightly, and she knelt to examine his shoulder. "You were incredible," she told him. "Absolutely incredible."
Buizel grinned, his twin tails wagging with pride.
Nicola approached, her Skorupi trailing behind. "A Cranidos," she said flatly. "You just caught a Cranidos."
"Jealous?"
"Impressed. There's a difference."
Dariana was smiling, her Gallade standing beside her with its blade-arms resting at its sides. "Your team is complete," she said. "That's a big deal."
"One giant leap," Patricia said.
"For the League," Samuel added, his Doduo snapping its beaks in agreement.
"No," Patricia said, standing. She looked at her friends—at the people who had become her family, her allies, her anchors in a world that seemed determined to sweep them all away. "For all of us."
Axel watched her from the edge of the group, his expression unreadable. His Rotom hovered beside him, its orange light flickering with quiet approval.
"Nice catch," he said. "You'll need that firepower where we're going."
Patricia glanced at him. "The Eclipse base?"
"The Eclipse base." Axel's eyes shifted to the mountains ahead, their peaks swallowed by the encroaching evening. "We'll reach it by midnight. Get some rest while you can."
They made camp in the shadow of a massive boulder, the fire small and low, the wind howling above them like a warning. Patricia sat apart from the others, staring at the new Poké Ball in her hands.
Inside was a Pokémon. One that had spent its entire life fighting for survival, for dominance, for something to believe in. And now it was hers.
"Do you think it'll trust me?" she asked quietly.
Briv sat down beside her, his shoulder pressed against hers. "It will. You showed it respect. You fought it fairly. That's all a Cranidos understands."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then you'll earn it anyway. You always do."
She looked at him, and something in her chest tightened—not fear, not anxiety, but something deeper. Something like hope.
"We're going to survive this," she said. "We're going to make it to the League. All of us."
Briv didn't answer. He just took her hand and squeezed it tight.
Because he couldn't promise that.
But he could promise he'd try.
=====
The moon hung low over the mountains, half-eaten by clouds that moved like oil across the sky. Patricia lay awake in her sleeping bag, her new Cranidos's Poké Ball pressed against her palm. The others were asleep—or pretending to be. Samuel's flute had gone silent hours ago. Axel sat by the dying fire, his Rotom hovering beside him, its orange light casting strange shadows against the rocks.
Briv's hand found hers in the dark.
"You should sleep," he whispered.
"So should you."
"I tried. Chimchar's snoring in my ear."
She smiled despite herself. "He does that."
"Every damn time."
They lay in silence for a while, listening to the wind. The fire crackled. Somewhere in the distance, a wild Pokémon cried out—sharp, brief, then nothing.
"What are you thinking about?" Briv asked.
"The base. What we'll find there."
"We'll find Jack."
"I know."
"And then?"
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
---
The morning came hard and gray.
They broke camp before dawn, their breath misting in the cold air. The path grew steeper as they climbed, the rocks sharper, the wind meaner. Nicola walked at the front now, her Starly circling overhead, its sharp eyes scanning for danger. Her Magnemite hovered beside her, its single eye glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Anything?" Briv called up.
"Nothing yet." She paused, shading her eyes against the rising sun. "Wait."
The entire group stopped.
"What is it?" Axel asked.
Nicola didn't respond. She was staring at something ahead—something nestled in a bowl-shaped depression between two massive boulders. The shape was small and gray and utterly still, and for a moment she thought it was just another rock.
Then it moved.
Its head lifted. Its face—flat, armored, ancient—turned toward them. Its body was encased in a dome of fossilized bone, thick and ridged and scarred from countless battles. Its legs were stubby, its tail short, its eyes dark and watchful.
A Shieldon.
"Fuck me," Nicola breathed.
The dinosaur Pokémon didn't flee. It didn't charge. It simply watched them with the patience of something that had survived extinction itself, its jaws grinding slowly, its feet planted firmly against the earth.
"That's a Shieldon," Axel said. "I've only seen one in my life. They're supposed to be extinct in this region."
"Apparently not," Dariana said.
Nicola was already reaching for her belt.
"Wait," Patricia said. "You saw what happened with my Cranidos. Shieldon are even more defensive. They can take a beating and keep going."
"I know."
"Then you know this won't be easy."
Nicola's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Nothing worthwhile ever is."
She stepped forward, her boots crunching against the gravel. The Shieldon's eyes tracked her movement—slow, deliberate, unimpressed. It had clearly faced trainers before. It knew what was coming.
"Starly," Nicola called. "Tangela. Let's go."
Two Poké Balls opened in twin flashes of light. Starly materialized in midair, its wings snapping open as it caught the wind, its black crest gleaming. Tangela appeared beside it, its blue vines writhing in anticipation, its white eyes peering through the tangle with sharp intelligence.
The Shieldon watched them both. Its stance didn't change. Its expression didn't flicker.
It simply waited.
---
"You first," Nicola said. "Starly—Wing Attack."
Starly dove like a blade, its wings glowing faintly as it sliced through the air. It struck the Shieldon's armored back with a crack that echoed off the rocks, and the fossil Pokémon didn't flinch.
It didn't stagger. It didn't cry out. It simply turned its head and snapped at Starly's wing, its jaws closing with bone-crushing force.
Starly barely escaped, its feathers brushing the Shieldon's teeth as it veered away. It landed on a nearby boulder, breathing hard, its eyes wide.
"That didn't work," Samuel observed.
"Gee, thanks," Nicola snapped.
"It's too armored," Dariana said. "You need to hit it somewhere soft."
"Where exactly is soft on that thing?"
Tangela answered by extending its vines. Four of them lashed out simultaneously, each one targeting a different joint—the knee, the shoulder, the neck, the tail. The Shieldon grunted as the vines wrapped around its limbs, and for a moment, it seemed like the strategy might work.
Then the Shieldon shifted its weight.
Tangela's vines went taut. Its eyes widened. The Shieldon took one deliberate step forward, then another, dragging Tangela across the ground like a fisherman pulling a net. The grass-type yelped—a high, startled sound—as it was yanked off balance and sent tumbling across the rocks.
The Shieldon didn't stop.
It kept walking, its movements slow and methodical, its head lowered. It was heading straight for Tangela, its jaws grinding with a soft, terrible clicking sound.
"Recall it!" Briv shouted.
"I can't—" Nicola bit off the words. Recalling Tangela now would leave her vulnerable. She needed to keep the pressure on. She needed to tire this thing out.
"Starly—Quick Attack! Hit its face!"
Starly shot forward, its body blurring with speed, its beak aimed at the Shieldon's eye. It struck true—the impact echoed through the canyon—and the Shieldon finally reacted. Its head snapped back, its legs pinwheeling, and for one glorious moment, it teetered on the edge of collapse.
Then it found its footing.
It didn't just survive the blow. It counterattacked. Its skull slammed into Starly's chest, and the bird Pokémon was thrown backward like a rag doll. It hit the ground hard, tumbling across the stone, and didn't get up.
"Starly!" Nicola's voice cracked.
She recalled the bird Pokémon in a flash of red light, her hands shaking. Starly was tough—tougher than any Starly had a right to be—but that hit would have killed a lesser Pokémon. She needed to finish this. Now.
"Tangela," she said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her chest. "Wrap. Bind its legs. Don't let it move."
Tangela responded instantly. More vines shot out, wrapping around the Shieldon's stubby legs, tangling them together. The Shieldon stumbled, its momentum arrested, and Tangela pulled—hard—trying to drag it off balance.
The Shieldon dug its feet in.
It was stronger than it looked. Stronger than anything that size had any right to be. It leaned forward, its weight shifting, and Tangela groaned as its vines stretched to their limit. The grass-type was losing ground—literally—as the Shieldon dragged it across the rocky terrain, inch by painful inch.
"Hold on!" Nicola shouted. "Just hold on!"
Tangela's eyes squeezed shut. Its vines tightened.
The Shieldon bellowed—a deep, thunderous sound that shook the walls of the canyon—and surged forward. Tangela's vines snapped, one by one, like overstretched rubber bands, and the grass-type flew backward, crashing against a boulder with a sickening thud.
"Tangela!" Dariana gasped.
But Tangela wasn't done.
It rose—slowly, painfully, its vines trembling—and faced the Shieldon again. Its white eyes were blazing. Its body was bruised and battered, but it stood tall.
"Good," Nicola whispered. "Good."
She pulled a Poké Ball from her belt and threw it—not at the Shieldon, but at the ground beneath its feet. The ball cracked open, releasing Magnemite in a flash of gray metal and blue electricity.
Magnemite didn't need instructions. It understood.
"Thunder Wave," Nicola said.
Magnemite's magnets spun, crackling with energy. A wave of electricity surged across the ground—not enough to hurt, but enough to paralyze, enough to slow, enough to buy Tangela the time it needed.
The Shieldon stiffened. Its legs locked. Its jaw clenched.
"Now," Nicola said. "Tangela—Power Whip."
Tangela's body exploded with motion. Its vines, battered and bruised, slammed into the Shieldon's exposed flank like a flail. The impact landed on the soft tissue between its armor plates—the one weak point in its otherwise impenetrable defense.
The Shieldon screamed.
Not a bellow. Not a growl. A scream—high and sharp and full of pain—as its body convulsed. It tried to turn, tried to fight back, but its legs wouldn't obey. The paralysis held it in place, and Tangela struck again. And again.
"Enough," Nicola said.
Tangela stopped. Its vines lowered. It stood over the Shieldon, panting, its body slick with sweat and dirt.
The Shieldon lay on its side, its chest heaving, its eyes half-closed. It wasn't unconscious—not quite—but it was done. It knew it was done.
Nicola walked forward, her boots crunching against the stone. She stopped a few feet away and looked down at the fossil Pokémon.
"You fought well," she said quietly. "Better than anything I've faced in months. You earned my respect."
The Shieldon's eyes flickered toward her.
"I know you don't trust me," Nicola continued. "I know you've survived this long by not trusting anyone. But I'm not asking for your trust. I'm asking for a chance."
She held up the empty Poké Ball.
"Let me prove you wrong."
The Shieldon stared at her for a long moment. Its jaw worked. Its breath rattled. Then, slowly, deliberately, it lowered its head.
Nicola threw the ball.
It struck the Shieldon's side and consumed it in red light. The ball fell to the ground, shaking once—twice—three times. The seconds stretched. The wind howled.
Then it clicked.
---
Nicola stood motionless for a full three seconds.
Then she picked up the ball and held it to her chest. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was pounding. Her team was complete.
"Six," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I've got six."
Tangela limped toward her, its vines dragging against the ground. It looked like shit—bruised, battered, exhausted—but its eyes were bright with pride.
"You," Nicola said, kneeling to meet it, "were incredible."
Tangela's vines curled around her arm, gentle despite their strength. A thank you. A promise.
Starly's ball rattled on her belt. The bird was awake—she could feel it stirring—and she knew it would demand a full accounting of exactly what had happened while it was unconscious.
"You too," she muttered. "You were brave. Stupid, but brave."
The ball rattled again. She interpreted that as agreement.
---
Dariana approached first, her Gallade trailing behind her.
"That was brutal," she said. "I thought Tangela was done twice."
"So did I." Nicola stroked the ball in her hands. "But Tangela doesn't give up. Neither does Starly. They're stubborn."
"Wonder where they learned that."
Nicola shot her a look. Dariana just smiled.
Patricia came next, Buneary on her shoulder, her new Cranidos's ball clipped to her belt. "Welcome to the six-Pokémon club," she said.
"Feels good."
"Feels terrifying."
"That too."
Samuel offered a small bow, his rings glinting in the morning light. "The Shieldon is a warrior. You fought him with honor."
"Her."
"Her, then. Even better."
Briv approached last. He didn't say anything at first. He just looked at Nicola—sweaty, exhausted, covered in dust—and nodded.
She nodded back.
They understood each other. They always had.
---
Axel stood at the edge of the canyon, his Rotom hovering beside him. His eyes were fixed on the mountains ahead—darker now, sharper, closer than they'd been that morning.
"Nice work," he said without turning. "Both of you."
Patricia and Nicola exchanged glances.
"But we need to keep moving. The base is close. Two hours, maybe less."
"We should rest first," Patricia said. "Our Pokémon are exhausted. Buizel can barely stand, Tangela looks like she went through a blender, and Starly needs medical attention."
"No time."
"There's always—"
"No." Axel turned. His eyes were hard. "Jack knows we're coming. He's had three days to prepare since you killed Marco. If he's still there, he's waiting. And if he's not, he's already gone somewhere worse."
"Somewhere worse than a hidden mountain base?" Samuel asked.
"Try an entire city under his control. He's been building influence in the Northern Alliance. If he escapes, we lose our chance to stop him before he becomes untouchable."
The words hung in the cold air.
"We go now," Axel said. "We fight tired. We fight hurt. We fight anyway. Because if we don't, everything we've done—everything we've sacrificed—means nothing."
Nicola looked at the ball in her hand. At her team—her full team—waiting to be called.
"Fine," she said. "We go."
Briv stepped forward, his hand on Chimchar's ball. "But we go together."
Axel's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Together."
They walked into the mountains.
The path wound upward, steep and treacherous, the rocks slick with morning frost. The wind howled through the passes, carrying with it the smell of sulfur and ozone. The Eclipse base was close—they could feel it in their bones.
Patricia walked beside Nicola, their shoulders brushing.
"You ready for this?" Patricia asked.
"No." Nicola's eyes were fixed on the darkening horizon. "But I'm not going to let that stop me."
"That's all you need."
They climbed higher. The clouds gathered. The world narrowed to the path, the rocks, and the promise of violence waiting at the end.
---
The base appeared at dusk.
It rose from the mountainside like a wound in the stone—a sprawling complex of metal and concrete and shadow, its searchlights cutting through the growing dark. Guards moved along the walls, their silhouettes sharp against the gray sky. Pokémon prowled the perimeter—Houndoom, Golbat, and others that moved too quickly to identify.
Axel stopped behind a ridge, his Rotom dimming its light.
"There," he said. "That's the entrance. Main gate's guarded by at least a dozen trainers. Probably more inside."
"How do we get in?" Briv asked.
Axel looked at him. "We don't."
"What?"
"You don't." He stood. "I do."
Before anyone could stop him, he stepped out of the shadows and walked toward the base. His Rotom transformed—flickering into a motor form, its body whirring with electricity—and floated beside him like a bodyguard.
"Wait—" Patricia started.
"Let him go," Nicola said.
"But—"
"He knows what he's doing."
Briv watched Axel's figure recede into the distance. The guards didn't fire. The Pokémon didn't attack. They just watched him approach, and then—slowly—the gate opened and he stepped inside.
Silence.
"What just happened?" Samuel asked.
"I think," Dariana said slowly, "we just got played."
"No." Patricia shook her head. "Not played. Just tested."
"Tested for what?"
She didn't answer.
They waited. Minutes passed. The wind howled. The base's searchlights swept the mountainside, empty and indifferent. Then—without warning—every light in the compound died.
A second passed.
Then another.
The emergency sirens blared—a low, wailing cry that echoed across the mountains. The sound of running feet, shouting voices, Pokémon cries. Chaos.
"What the—" Briv started.
And then the main gate exploded.
Fire and smoke and shrapnel burst outward, and through the smoke came Axel, his Rotom in motor form spinning wildly beside him, its electrical discharge crackling through the air. Behind him, the base was already burning.
"Come on!" he shouted. "We're not done yet!"
They ran.
---
The base was a labyrinth of corridors and rooms and dead ends, but Axel knew the way. He moved with purpose, his Rotom lighting the path, his eyes scanning for threats. Patricia, Nicola, Briv, Dariana, and Samuel followed close behind, their Pokémon out of their balls and ready for anything.
"Where's Jack?" Briv asked.
"Command center," Axel said. "Top floor. But we're not going there first."
"Why not?"
"Because there's something else you need to see."
He led them down a side corridor, through a blast door that had been torn from its hinges, into a room that made them all stop.
Cages.
Rows and rows of cages, stacked floor to ceiling, each one containing a Pokémon. Some were unconscious. Some were trembling. Some were clearly dead.
"What is this?" Patricia whispered.
"A collection," Axel said. "Jack's been gathering rare Pokémon for years. He sells them to the highest bidder. Funds the Eclipse Squad. Funds everything."
Nicola's face went white. "That's why he wanted Gwen. That's why he wanted all of us."
"You're not just threats. You're products. Rare trainers with rare Pokémon." Axel's voice was flat. "He was going to sell you too."
Briv's hands clenched into fists.
"We're getting them out," he said. "All of them."
"That's why you're here."
They moved through the room, opening cages, freeing Pokémon, guiding them toward the exit. Some fled immediately. Others stayed, too weak to move, and Patricia and Dariana carried them. Samuel's Carnivine wrapped its vines around cages and tore them open with raw strength. Nicola's Shieldon—newly caught, barely bonded—smashed through locks with its iron skull.
They worked in silence.
Minutes passed. The base burned around them. The sirens screamed. And somewhere above, on the top floor, a man waited.
---
They found him in the command center.
Jack Sable was not what they expected.
He was tall and thin and calm, his silver hair slicked back, his gray eyes sharp and calculating. He sat in a chair like a king on a throne, his hands folded, his posture relaxed.
Behind him, a window looked out over the mountains. In front of him, a desk covered in papers and screens. And on his wrist, a device that glowed with the same dark energy they'd seen in the tunnels beneath Aethelburg.
"Ah," he said. "The prodigals return."
"Cut the shit," Nicola snapped. "It's over."
"Is it?"
He stood. His movements were smooth, unhurried, almost elegant. His eyes swept over them—measuring, judging, dismissing.
"You killed Marco," he said. "Impressive. But Marco was an idiot. A useful idiot, but an idiot nonetheless."
"You're next," Briv said.
"Am I?" Jack smiled. "Tell me, Briv—do you know why I've been letting you live?"
Silence.
"Because you're useful. You and your friends. You've spent months doing exactly what I needed you to do—drawing out the Eclipse Squad's enemies, exposing our safe houses, bringing us the data chip. You've been my best operatives, and you didn't even know it."
"Bullshit," Nicola spat.
"Is it?" Jack tapped the device on his wrist. "The chip you've been carrying? It was a fake. A decoy. The real data is here, in this base—and I've been transmitting it to my partners in the Northern Alliance for three days."
"I don't believe you."
"Believe what you want. It doesn't change anything."
He raised his hand.
The room exploded.
---
Later, none of them could agree on what happened next.
There was fire. There was smoke. There was the roar of Pokémon and the crack of energy and the screaming of alarms. Patricia remembered being thrown backward. Nicola remembered Shieldon slamming into something hard. Briv remembered Chimchar's flame igniting, bright and hot, and then nothing.
When the smoke cleared, Jack was gone.
The window behind his desk had been shattered outward—glass scattered across the mountain, glittering in the moonlight. The device on his wrist was broken, its dark energy dimming to nothing.
He'd escaped.
"Fuck!" Nicola slammed her fist against the wall. "Fuck!"
"It's not over," Axel said. "He can't have gone far."
"He could have gone anywhere. He could be halfway to the Northern Alliance by now."
"Then we follow him."
"We don't even know where he went!"
"We know where he's going." Briv's voice was quiet. "The Northern Alliance. The Eclipse Squad's headquarters. He said it himself."
Patricia looked at him. "You're suggesting we follow him into enemy territory. Without backup. Without a plan."
"No." Briv shook his head. "I'm suggesting we follow him into enemy territory, find him, and kill him. Before he can do any more damage."
"That's suicide."
"Probably."
Silence.
Then Samuel spoke.
"Then we'd better not fail."
---
They stood in the ruins of the command center, looking out over the shattered window. The base burned behind them. The mountains stretched ahead. The night was cold and dark and full of unseen threats.
Patricia's hand found Briv's.
Nicola stood alone, her Shieldon's ball in her hand, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Dariana stood beside her, Gallade at her side. Samuel played a single note on his flute—soft, sad, hopeful—and let it fade into the wind.
"One more fight," Axel said. "One more push. And then this is over."
"Promise?" Patricia asked.
He didn't answer.
Because he couldn't.
They gathered their Pokémon. They checked their supplies. They bound their wounds. And then they walked into the night, toward the Northern Alliance, toward whatever waited beyond the mountains.
The war was not over.
But it was no longer a mystery.
And that, at least, was something.