The Mightyena lunged.

  Ren moved instantly, sidestepping hard to the left.

  "Charmander, Ember! Direct to the eyes!"

  A burst of fire shot from Charmander’s maw — a small, precise bolt rather than a wide spray.

  The Mightyena snarled, reeling back, blinded for a moment.

  Ren didn’t hesitate.

  "Tail Whip — fast!"

  Charmander pivoted sharply, striking the Mightyena’s flank with the full force of his heavy tail.

  The wild beast stumbled, rage flashing across its face.

  It wasn't beaten.

  Not yet.

  The ground shifted under Charmander’s feet — Mightyena countered with a savage lunge, fangs bared.

  "Dodge low — and Scratch!"

  Charmander ducked under the snapping jaws and raked sharp claws across the Mightyena’s shoulder.

  It yelped, staggering back, foam gathering at the edges of its mouth.

  Still alive. Still dangerous.

  Ren grimaced inwardly.

  Charmander was fighting well — better than many first partners would under true pressure.

  But Mightyena were seasoned predators.

  Strength alone wouldn’t be enough.

  He needed an advantage.

  Eyes scanning, Ren spotted a loose cluster of rocks on a slight slope above the clearing.

  An idea sparked.

  "Charmander — bait it!"

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  Charmander darted forward, letting loose another Ember, intentionally wild — a taunt.

  The Mightyena roared, charging blindly.

  Ren moved fast, sprinting toward the rock cluster, knowing the Mightyena’s prey drive would lock onto movement.

  Sure enough, it followed — reckless in its bloodlust.

  Ren skidded to a stop near the slope, pivoted sharply, and shouted:

  "Charmander, Ember — the ground, now!"

  Charmander unleashed a low, sweeping wave of flame.

  The dry grass around the rocks ignited instantly — not a blaze, but enough to create smoke, confusion.

  The Mightyena’s paws skidded on the loosening dirt, momentum carrying it forward.

  The rocks, dislodged by the trembling earth, tumbled downward.

  The Mightyena yelped in alarm — too late.

  A sharp, heavy stone struck its side, knocking it off balance.

  Another clipped its hind leg.

  The beast crashed to the ground, dazed.

  Ren didn’t waste the opening.

  "Final hit! Scratch!"

  Charmander leapt, striking true — claws dragging across the Mightyena’s exposed side in a final burst of fury.

  The beast whimpered once.

  Then fell still.

  Breathing heavily but alive.

  Silence returned to the woods.

  Ren exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from his muscles.

  Charmander stood proudly beside him, small chest heaving with exertion.

  Ren knelt, ruffling the fire-lizard’s head gently.

  "Good job, partner."

  Charmander chirped weakly but pressed into the touch.

  After checking to make sure the Mightyena was truly down — but not dead — Ren made his decision.

  He withdrew Charmander into his Pokéball with a flash of red light.

  "We move quieter this way," Ren muttered to himself.

  No tail flame to give away his position.

  No scuffling claws to draw predators.

  Solo movement would be slower, yes.

  But stealth would buy survival.

  He clipped the Pokéball carefully back to his belt and moved on.

  The forest closed around him — shadows deepening as the sun dipped lower.

  Ren moved like a ghost through the underbrush, instincts sharp.

  Step quiet.

  Breathing controlled.

  Eyes always scanning.

  This wasn’t panic.

  This wasn’t blind fear.

  This was how he had been trained.

  His mind drifted as he moved —

  memories flickering like embers in the dark.

  Six months earlier.

  Professor Oak’s private training grounds outside Pallet Town.

  "Again!" Oak’s voice barked from across the field.

  Ren stumbled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip.

  Charmander crouched beside him — battered, bruised, but refusing to yield.

  Their opponent — a trained Arcanine borrowed from the Pallet League offices — circled warily.

  It hadn’t used full power, of course.

  But enough.

  Enough to teach hard lessons.

  "A Trainer who can’t fight beside his Pokémon," Oak had said coldly, "has no right to command one."

  They learned pain.

  They learned grit.

  They learned discipline.

  Not just flashy attacks.

  Not just moves and counters.

  Survival.

  Stealth.

  Tactics.

  Patience.

  Charmander had learned to conserve his flame when hiding.

  Ren had learned how to mask his steps, his scent, his panic.

  It had been brutal.

  It had been merciless.

  And it had saved their lives just now.

  The memory faded.

  The woods returned.

  And Ren smiled grimly to himself.

  "Thank you, old man."

  He pressed forward — slipping through the deepening shadows with lethal quiet.

  Checkpoint wasn’t far now.

  But neither was danger.

  He could feel it — thick in the air, like the charge before a storm.

  The real test hadn’t even begun yet.