At first, Cynthia had focused on the forest. Then, realizing how exposed they were, her hand had dropped—fingertips brushing over the buttons of the Poké Balls hanging from her belt in their expanded form.

  Queenie had appeared first, stretching with a low, guttural growl. A heartbeat later, Riolu had materialized beside her, eyes snapping toward the treeline in an instant.

  But that had all been moments ago.

  Right now?

  She didn’t focus on Queenie.

  She didn’t look at Riolu.

  Didn’t even glance back towards the treeline to study how it stood perfectly straight—less a forest edge and more a barrier.

  No, her eyes were firmly fixed on her newest team member.

  Roselia had a certain way of being. In battle, his frayed red scarf fluttered behind him as he moved, every move and dodge performed with the flair of a performer mid-show. But outside of combat, he was the opposite—quiet, withdrawn, almost invisible when he wanted to be. He never sought attention, never needed it, content to simply exist in the background.

  A lot like Riolu was, in that sense.

  And, even now, it wasn’t anything he had done that made the hair on her arms rise.

  She stared at him.

  She hadn’t imagined it—right?

  Her fingers brushed over Queenie’s Poké Ball as she glanced to her side. Myst hadn’t noticed, even though he’d been looking at the same thing she had.

  And yet, she knew her eyes hadn’t been mistaken.

  Her gaze returned to Roselia, who had lifted his bouqueted hands, staring at them with something close to wonder.

  For the briefest moment, she’d seen it—his Aura.

  A faint shimmer of green and violet, flickering around his form like heat haze before vanishing again. It couldn’t have lasted more than a heartbeat, but it had been unmistakable. And that was strange, because Aura wasn’t supposed to show. For it to be visible to the naked eye…

  She frowned slightly.

  Grassy Terrain, as far as she knew, amplified Grass-type energy by about as much as a single use of Growth. It was the kind of effect that could, in theory, make Aura visible—most boosting effects had a chance to.

  But for Roselia’s Aura to appear, even for an instant?

  How many Growths had it taken in training to reach that point?

  Two?

  Three?

  She hadn’t been too worried about crossing the so-called Grass Kingdom before, but if every Pokémon they met was walking around with a power boost equivalent to two or three Growths...

  Her expression tightened.

  This was going to be a lot harder than they originally—

  Myst’s hand closed lightly around her wrist.

  Cynthia froze, her thoughts scattering as her gaze snapped toward him.

  “Should I be worried?” he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips. “First you release your entire team, then you look like you’re about to murder someone. I mean—usually the victim’s the boyfriend, right?”

  She stared at him for a long second before sighing, relaxing slightly.

  “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

  Myst’s grin only widened, then lowered his voice even more.

  “But the idiot you kissed.”

  Instantly, Cynthia felt her face blaze.

  He did not just—

  “So, what’s the plan?” Flint’s voice cut in from behind, loud enough to make her jolt.

  Myst sent her a sly look before turning to the others, all too pleased with himself.

  “Well, first off,” he said lightly, “we should probably follow Cynthia’s lead, no? If we’re crossing that forest, we’ll want everyone ready. Especially considering what you guys said about the Pokémon around here. Very territorial, aggressive, or whatever it was, right?”

  Cynthia stared at the spot where his face had been a moment ago, before forcing herself to take another slow breath.

  She turned just in time to see Volkner already nodding. “Good point. Considering how dense that forest looks, we probably won’t even see the Pokémon coming until after its too--”

  A loud thump cut him off.

  Volkner blinked, then looked down at Rei, one brow raised.

  She stared right back at him, expression flat.

  “As I was saying, it’s not like—”

  Thump.

  Rei stomped again, sharper this time.

  Volkner shot her a look, but Rei met it with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

  “What?” he asked.

  Rei didn’t answer—just lifted a paw and tapped both ears pointedly.

  For a second, Volkner just stared at her, uncomprehending. Then, when she tapped her ears again, his eyes widened slightly in realization.

  “Oh. Right. You’ve got a point—”

  He didn’t get to finish.

  Though, instead of Rei, this time, Flint was the one who cut him off with a loud groan of protest, pointing an accusing finger at the small Normal-type.

  “Hey! I thought you said you didn’t want to be our detection system! Why are you even getting annoyed?”

  Cynthia blinked.

  Wait—did he just?

  Rei, like a rusted robot, slowly turned her head toward Flint.

  Flint crossed his arms and lifted his chin, practically daring her to disagree.

  Her eyes became slits.

  Instantly, Cynthia shot Myst a look, but he was already moving, his expression a perfect blend of groan and resignation. Like he knew that stepping into this wouldn’t end well for him, but also knew that he had to.

  Luckily, this time, he didn’t need to.

  Before Flint could complete his attempted ritual suicide-by-murder-bunny, Johanna clapped her hands sharply, snapping everyone’s attention to her.

  “Boys and girls,” she started with a faint grin on her face, “as funny as it is watching you posture, maybe save that energy for something actually useful. Because if anything in that forest so much as peeks out, it’s going to see us instantly.”

  She gestured around them—at their exposed, elevated position—and then toward the treeline. “In other words, unless you’re dying to find out how fast the local Pokémon can move, we either take this discussion behind the hill or start heading in.”

  Flint and Rei locked eyes, sparks practically flying between them, before both turned away at the same time with matching huffs.

  Volkner let out a sigh.

  “You’re right, of course. And considering how everyone felt about our last stop, I think we can all agree to—”

  Cynthia raised a hand before he could finish.

  Volkner’s eyes narrowed, irritation flickering across his face.

  Under his glare, she slowly lowered it but spoke anyway.

  “Sorry, Volkner. Didn’t mean to interrupt. I just have to ask—did you guys battle the Pokémon here last time?”

  Volkner’s irritation faltered, replaced by confusion. He blinked at her, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in topic.

  “Not really. We kind of just ran when we realized they didn’t seem to appreciate our presence. Why?”

  She nodded once to herself.

  Yeah, that checked out. If he’d battled anything here, there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed.

  Cynthia opened her mouth to explain, then hesitated, her gaze sliding toward Roselia.

  Then again…

  “Magical Leaf,” she said evenly.

  Roselia froze for a heartbeat but didn’t question the order. Slowly lifted one hand, a faint glow showing around his body—

  —and the world exploded into a single color.

  Green, everywhere.

  The air, the sky, the very world itself seemed to drown in it as every single blade of grass on the hill erupted outward at once. For a single second, they hung suspended in the air—shimmering, countless, thick enough that Cynthia could barely make out the shapes of the others through the haze.

  Then Roselia snapped his hand downward.

  Instantly, the storm of green stilled. Every strand of grass dropped back into place as if time itself had rewound, settling neatly against the earth. The air cleared, leaving behind only a faint, humming glow of Grass-type energy that faded as quickly as it came.

  Cynthia stared at Roselia, then glanced back down at the area around them.

  Okay…

  A moment ago, the hill had been covered in lush, fresh grass. Now? A perfect circle stretched out around them—unnaturally clean, almost surgical in its precision. Outside the boundary, the blades stood tall and swayed gently in the breeze. Inside, there was nothing but bare, uneven earth where roots had been ripped from the soil.

  That…

  Okay, yeah—that was definitely beyond what she’d expected.

  She turned toward Volkner, only to see him staring at the ground, one foot lifted. Beneath it sat a single patch of grass, just big enough to fit his shoe.

  He glanced up at her, expression tightening as realization set in.

  “Back when we fought, Roselia didn’t happen to be holding back a whole lot?”

  She just slowly shook her head.

  Volkner pressed his lips together, eyes flicking back toward Roselia.

  Beside him, Flint swallowed audibly, raising a cautious hand.

  “Okay, stupid question, but how much of a boost does Grassy Terrain actually give again?”

  …

  From the top of the hill, the forest had looked impossibly dense—trees packed so tightly she could barely catch glimpses through the canopy. Logically, she’d assumed it would be almost pitch-black inside, that they’d need Flint’s Fire-types just to light the way.

  That assumption lasted all of ten steps.

  It wasn’t that the forest was bright—far from it—but there was light.

  Just… fractured light.

  She glanced up, raising a hand to shield her eyes as shafts of green and gold filtered through the uneven canopy—a blend of sunlight streaming from cracks high above and the faint luminescence of crystals embedded in the mountain’s ceiling. The colors intertwined like drifting threads, slicing through the air in narrow, shifting beams that swayed with every motion of the branches.

  It was beautiful, in a strange, haunting way—and part of her wanted to just stop and take it in.

  She paused, lowering her head to stare at the tree ahead.

  And, honestly, she might have, too—if not for the fact that everything else about this place kind of sucked.

  The trees, far from being picturesque, varied wildly in size—some thin and barely taller than a human, others massive and gnarled, their roots curling over one another like tangled ropes. And the ground? Uneven to the point of irritation. Every few steps it tilted or narrowed, forcing them to constantly weave between trunks and jutting stones or duck beneath low-hanging branches just to keep moving.

  And, even then, that wasn’t really the worst part.

  “Does anyone else feel like we’re going in circles?” Flint asked, leaning against a nearby tree.

  Johanna shrugged, focused on bribing Sassy, her well-named Glameow, with a berry she’d picked along the way.

  “Maybe? Hard to tell when we’ve had to take so many detours, right? I mean, it’s been what, an hour since we entered? Considering how fast this forest apparently popped up, I figured we’d be clear of it by now.”

  Volkner glanced up toward the mountain ceiling peeking out through the slightly less dense canopy, absently stroking Luxio’s fur.

  “We had to take those detours,” he said evenly. “If we didn’t, we’d have run into at least ten different packs of Pokémon by now.” He paused, then flicked a look toward Roselia. “And as confident as I am we’d win, I still don’t feel like testing how hard a Grass-type move hits in this place.”

  Johanna sighed in agreement. “I guess.”

  A beat later, Sassy let out an offended snort and batted the Tamato Berry out of Johanna’s hand before turning with a flick of her tail and strutting off toward Queenie and Midna. She flopped down beside them in a dramatic, lazy heap.

  Johanna stared at the berry on the ground, sighed, and looked back to Volkner.

  “Really though, when you mention it—don’t you think that Ranger at the halfway house kind of undersold the danger here? I mean, Grass-type energy boosted to the level of a constant Grassy Terrain? More like Grass-types boosted as if they were standing on two.”

  “I mean, we haven’t fought any Pokémon though,” Flint cut in. “Roselia getting that much stronger might just be because he’s trained. Like, you know, how even if a Pokémon uses a boosting move multiple times, unless it’s trained to handle that kind of power, it usually just hits diminishing returns pretty fast, right? Untrained ones cap out at, what, one—maybe one and a half times the effect?”

  Volkner opened his mouth—apparently ready to correct Flint—but before Cynthia could catch what he said, a sharp sting pulled her focus away.

  She hissed softly through her teeth, forcing herself not to glare at the person who was supposed to be helping, and instead fixed her gaze on… something else.

  Anything else.

  Like trees.

  She squinted, jaw tightening slightly as she stared at the nearest one.

  …Then again, they were kind of interesting, weren’t they?

  Most of the trees in this place were tall—not massive, but big enough that their canopies easily towered over the group. Others, though, were different. Smaller. Misshapen.

  Like the one she was staring at now.

  It wasn’t thin, exactly, but it was unevenly grown. Roots coiling above the ground rather than beneath it, gnarled and exposed like old scars. Patches of bark were missing, revealing dark wood underneath, as if it had aged too fast for its own good. The exposed surface looked raw, stretched, almost pained—like something that had been forced to grow into a shape it was never meant to take. Two heavy branches drooped from its sides, weighed down by their own mass, sparse leaves only half-hiding the warped, twisted tips.

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  It wasn’t the first one she’d seen—and, honestly, probably wouldn’t be the last. The cause was obvious enough: growth accelerated far beyond what nature intended. Really, for a forest that had appeared this quickly, she would’ve expected every tree to look like this. But instead…

  She paused, mentally counting.

  Thirty?

  No, closer to twenty, if she was being honest.

  Her eyes lingered on the warped trunk. Then again, it wasn’t like she was any kind of expert in using Grass-type energy to accelerate growth. She knew it was possible, that it came with limits and risks, but the details were beyond her. Really, she—

  Cynthia hissed softly, instinctively trying to pull her hand back.

  Myst didn’t let her. His grip was firm but careful as he steadied her wrist, dabbing a gauze pad soaked in medical liquid over the shallow scrape she’d gotten from slipping on a root and hitting the rock it had grown from.

  “Please stay still,” he murmured, eyes fixed on his work as he reached for the bottle from the Chansey-themed first-aid kit, adding a bit more to the gauze.

  “Maybe slightly less pressure, then?” Cynthia managed, her voice tight as she fought the urge to flinch.

  Myst didn’t even look up, still focused entirely on what he was doing.

  “If it doesn’t hurt, then it isn’t medicine,” he said simply.

  Cynthia stared at him flatly. And kept staring. Long enough that, eventually, Myst finished wrapping the bandage and finally looked up to find her unimpressed expression waiting for him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “It’s a small scrape,” she said evenly. “You’re acting like I broke my arm.”

  “And I’d agree with you—if we were in a city,” he replied, matching her tone with infuriating calm. “But we’re not. We’re in the middle of nowhere, days from help.”

  Cynthia huffed, crossing her arms with exaggerated restraint.

  Myst sighed quietly, packing the kit away and slipping it into the top of her backpack.

  “Cynthia,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “when I was in the forest, I almost died from a wound getting infected. Lopunny had to bargain half a mountain of berries just to get the local Vespiquen to help me recover.”

  She froze.

  Oh.

  She’d almost forgotten—but when they’d first met, hadn’t he had a scar along his hip?

  Myst smiled faintly at her reaction, then reached for her other hand, his thumb brushing gently across her palm.

  “Of course, the wound I had was a lot worse,” he said softly. “But all I’m saying is—I’m not taking any chances.”

  Then, with the smallest tilt of his head, his tone shifted, teasing.

  “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather this last more than a week, you know?”

  His eyes met hers, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow down to that single look. The warmth in his gaze, the quiet humor, the soft press of his thumb against her skin—

  She blinked sharply, tearing her eyes away before she could do something she’d definitely regret in front of everyone.

  Really, one of these days she needed to ask about what really happened in the forest.

  She opened her mouth, ready to apologize for being difficult—but froze. Something flickered at the edge of her vision.

  Her instincts kicked in before her thoughts did.

  “Riolu!” she barked.

  A flash of green exploded from a nearby tree—

  Riolu was just fast enough.

  He moved before the sound even reached them, a flicker of blue Aura bursting to life in his eyes as he lunged forward. The metallic pads on his arms shimmered, stretching into iridescent blades that hardened into steel.

  Leaf Defence.

  Razor-sharp leaves met gleaming metal midair—green and silver colliding in a blinding flash. The impact rang out like steel striking steel, shockwaves rippling through the clearing.

  And yet—

  Cynthia’s eyes widened.

  For a single moment, Riolu’s legs buckled under the pressure, the weight of the Grass-type energy driving him back through the dirt. His claws trembled, almost scattering under the strain—

  Then, with a sharp exhale and a twist of his stance, his Aura flared brighter. In one clean motion, he tore through the attack, flinging both blades aside in twin arcs of silver light.

  They spun wildly off course, slicing through the trunks of two nearby trees before crashing down in a splintering explosion of wood and leaves.

  But Riolu hadn’t cut them—he’d forced them away.

  Cynthia barely had time to register the difference before three bursts of black shot out from the side, streaking through the air toward them.

  Riolu spun on instinct, darting forward to meet the first attacker head-on. His palm flared with orange light, and the impact detonated in a muffled crack, sending the shadowed shape crashing back into the undergrowth with a dull thud.

  Not to say the other two made it far.

  Monferno was already in motion—a Mach Punch forming around one fist as he blurred across the clearing, slamming into one of the shapes with explosive force. A heartbeat later, Rei flashed past him, Quick Attack landing squarely on the second before it could even raise its arms.

  Then, for a moment—nothing.

  The clearing went still, broken only by the soft rustle of settling leaves. Dust drifted lazily through the beams of green and gold light, and for a few seconds, no one moved.

  Cynthia didn’t waste the pause. Her gaze swept the clearing, landing on the Pokémon that had attacked, and in an instant, she understood why Navi hadn’t sensed them coming.

  Three Nuzleaf stared back at them, fury radiating from their bodies in waves—so intense it almost seemed visible.

  “Grass–Dark type,” Cynthia called out, glancing towards Volkner and Flint.

  Neither responded.

  Instead, Volkner stepped forward, Pikachu tense on his shoulder, sparks faintly crackling along its cheeks.

  “We don’t want trouble,” he said evenly. Then, with a small gesture toward their Pokémon, he added, “But if it comes to a fight—just know you’re outnumbered.”

  The Nuzleaf in front stared for a few seconds, then let out a low laugh that crackled like breaking wood.

  “Nuzleaf,” it hissed.

  For a moment, nothing happened—

  —and then the air split apart as the sound of dozens of flutes, shrill and discordant, echoed through the forest from every direction at once.

  Slowly, Cynthia lifted her gaze toward the trees—then froze.

  They were everywhere.

  Dozens of Nuzleaf perched on the branches above, silent as death, their eyes glinting in the fractured light.

  For a moment she just took stared, even as brain started to turn.

  This many?

  Nuzleaf were group-oriented, sure, but they weren’t Bug-types. As far as she knew they were similar to a lot of Grass-types. Most tribes topped out at five—ten, maybe—for the larger ones with a Shiftry leading them. After all, without a way to establish proper roles for a large colony, you usually ended up with three to five Seedot for every Nuzleaf, and feeding a group that size quickly became harder and harder.

  But how many were watching them now?

  She couldn’t count them all, but there had to be at least two dozen. Maybe more.

  Beside her, Myst’s smile cracked slightly.

  “Well, shit.”

  The Nuzleaf in front bared its teeth in a grin, then lifted a hand—clearly about to give the signal to attack.

  It was slightly too slow.

  The instant Cynthia realized what it was about to do, Rei had already moved. She exploded forward without hesitation—a blur of white light, not waiting for the enemy to make the first strike. In a blink, she was already at the base of the tree where it stood.

  It hurriedly tried to lift an arm—

  A Fire Punch smashed into its face, slamming it into the trunk in a burst of embers.

  A beat passed in silence, then the two Nuzleaf beside their leader spun toward Rei, disc-like leaves forming in their hands.

  Razor Leaf.

  They never got the chance to throw them.

  A sharp crack split the air as lightning arced across the clearing.

  Pikachu had leapt from Volkner’s shoulder, its body erupting with power. A wave of thunder burst outward, striking the first Nuzleaf mid-motion and locking its body in place as electricity danced over its limbs. It hit the ground with a thud, paralyzed.

  Thunder Wave.

  The second lunged anyway.

  Drifloon was faster.

  Materializing from the shadow above Flint’s head, one tendril whipped forward, unleashing a tight, focused gust that tore through the air, slamming into the Nuzleaf’s legs and flipping it head-over-heels, causing it to smash face-first into the ground.

  Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to command Riolu to finish them off.

  She didn’t get a single word out—Monferno and Luxio were already there. The two Pokémon struck in perfect sync, Fire Punch and Fire Fang crashing down on the fallen Nuzleaf’s backs, cutting their struggles short in twin bursts of flame.

  Cynthia slowly closed her mouth.

  Sometimes, taking out the leaders was enough to make even large groups of Pokémon scatter—it was a well-known phenomenon.

  But…

  She glanced up at the dozens of glaring Nuzleaf perched in the trees above.

  Yeah. This wasn’t going to be one of those times.

  Pandemonium broke loose.

  With a unified cry of rage, every single Nuzleaf surrounding them attacked at once. From every direction, leaves and seeds tore through the air in a storm of green and brown, the sound of rustling branches swelling into a single deafening roar.

  Cynthia reached towards Myst—

  Volkner and Flint still reacted first. Without a word, both moved at once, each diving toward the same tree as the first wave of leaves tore through the air.

  They were just in time.

  Luxio, already having sprinted back to its trainer’s side after its opening attack, landed in front of them with a crackle of electricity. Its fur erupted with static, arcs of lightning flaring outward and shredding the incoming blades. One burst apart midair; another veered off course—

  —but the last shot straight through.

  It streaked toward Volkner as his eyes managed to flick towards the incoming attack.

  That was all he needed to do.

  Above Flint’s head, Drifloon swung a ribbon-like arm, conjuring a burst of wind that blasted into the Razor Leaf and spiked it into the dirt, where it crumpled harmlessly.

  Still, not to say the Nuzleaf were about to give up.

  The one that had attacked first was already winding up again, lifting its hand as green energy gathered—

  —but Monferno had only been a heartbeat behind Luxio.

  He shot up toward the branches where the Nuzleaf stood, fire blooming around his fist as he drove it straight into the Grass–Dark type’s chest with explosive force.

  Fire punch.

  The Nuzleaf folded like a puppet with its strings cut.

  The nearest Nuzleaf started to turn—

  —but Pikachu hit it before it could get further than started.

  A streak of yellow light cutting, lightning exploded from the impact as the electric mouse sent it flying backward, crashing into one of its teammates and knocking them both down in a tangle of limbs.

  Spark.

  Another split second passed.

  And Cynthia finally reached Myst.

  She grabbed his arm—

  —and that was all she had time to do.

  Queenie appeared in front of them in a blur of blue. One clawed arm swept up just in time to intercept another Razor Leaf, the blade exploding against her scales. A grimace covered her snakelike face, but even so, white light erupted along her claws, and with a single fluid motion, she sliced towards the next two leaves midair.

  Slash.

  The blades split cleanly in midair, scattering harmlessly into the grass behind them.

  Of course, just because Queenie had managed to stop one attack didn’t mean that it was over. But, at the same time, it had bought time.

  And Rei wasn’t about to let the transgression against her trainer go unpunished.

  She shot past Queenie in a streak of red and brown light, fire bursting to life around her fist as she slammed it into the nearest Nuzleaf, sending it crashing back into, and then through, the tree it stood upon.

  Fire Punch.

  Then, before its partner could even react, she spun on her heel—her ear flashing with icy light as it struck squarely across its face.

  Ice Punch.

  Riolu joined her an instant later, palms blazing with orange type energy as he struck two other Nuzleaf in rapid succession, each impact sharp and final. Both Grass–Dark types hit the ground before they even had time to cry out.

  Force Palm.

  Still, for every one that fell, two more took its place.

  A Nuzleaf leapt from a nearby tree, diving straight for a distracted Rei. One hand raised, green light erupted from its palm as tendrils of Grass-type energy shot forward—

  —only to collapse midair.

  The Nuzleaf went limp before it hit the ground, crashing beside Rei in a heap, its energy fading like a snuffed-out flame.

  Navi closed her mouth, eyes dimming, and vanished in a shimmer of purple light—teleporting away to pick off the next target trying to flank them.

  Cynthia slowly unclenched both fists, trying to ignore the stinging it had caused, as the chaos continued around them.

  It was frustrating.

  In a normal Pokémon battle—even at a high level—a good trainer could still track what was happening. With enough training, you could read the flow of movement, feel the rhythm of attacks, sense when the next decisive moment would come. A one-on-one might not be fully controlled, but at least it was structured.

  Here?

  Navi blinked into existence right in front of her eyes, a pulse of psychic energy bursting outward as she shredded a web of Absorb tethers reaching for Queenie—then vanished just as fast.

  Cynthia’s gaze snapped left.

  Monferno slammed a Fire Punch into a Nuzleaf mid-leap, intercepting its strike toward Drifloon and sending it tumbling through the undergrowth.

  She flicked it right.

  Riolu weaved effortlessly through a scattershot of Razor Leaves, each movement sharp and precise, before driving a glowing palm square into his attacker’s chest.

  Yeah—there was simply no way.

  In the end, there was a reason League-sanctioned Pokémon battles capped at two-on-two. Any more than that, and unless you were one of those mythical Aura Guardians, you were useless at best—and at worst?

  Queenie grunted as another Razor Leaf slammed against her scales, too many angles to block at once.

  You became an obstacle.

  Cynthia bit her lip, forcing herself to stay perfectly still.

  At this scale, it wasn’t about operating as a unit with a trainer at the helm. Strategy and coordination between trainer and Pokémon hardly mattered anymore. Once battles reached this level of chaos, trainers stopped leading and simply existed. In the end, the only thing that mattered was how well you’d trained your Pokémon—and how effectively they could protect you while tearing down everything that threatened you.

  Beside her, Myst grimaced as Rei let out a sharp cry when a Razor Leaf slammed into her shoulder, slicing into her Aura. Snarling, she powered through the pain, fire bursting to life around her fist as she drove it into her attacker’s gut, sending the Nuzleaf crashing into a tree with a dull, cracking thud.

  Without thinking, Cynthia reached over and grabbed Myst’s hand, lacing her fingers through his.

  Then again, battles like this—where Pokémon actually aimed for the trainers—were rare.

  Very rare.

  Even criminals usually followed a few unspoken rules; attacking trainers never ended well for anyone.

  So, the kind of people who experienced situations like this?

  That list started with Rangers, dipped somewhere into the realm of idiots and ended under the floor with Hunters.

  Cynthia didn’t really want to think about where they landed on it.

  Forcing her thoughts away from that frankly depressing track, she scanned the battlefield again.

  Slowly but surely, their Pokémon were forcing back the horde of Nuzleaf. One by one, they fell—to Queenie’s bursts of Dragonfire, to Riolu’s Force Palms, to Roselia—

  She paused.

  Wait.

  Where the hell was Roselia?

  BOOM!

  An explosion tore through the far side of the clearing, the shockwave rippling through the trees. Cynthia spun toward the sound—just in time to see a dozen Nuzleaf hurtling through the air like leaves in a storm.

  At the center of it all stood Roselia, bouqueted hands raised high, petals scattering like sparks as countless glowing leaves spiraled around him—each one burning with sharp, concentrated energy.

  Magical Leaf.

  With a flick of his wrists, the storm erupted outward again, arcing and weaving with impossible precision. The remaining Nuzleaf didn’t stand a chance. Each blade found its mark, containing enough force that they seemingly detonated on contact and sending its target crashing into the dirt.

  The final impacts shook the clearing. For a heartbeat, the only sounds were the settling of leaves and the faint, electric hum of Grass-type energy clinging to the air.

  And then, even that faded.

  Cynthia stared at Roselia for a long moment before slowly turning her gaze across the field.

  Most of their team was still standing, but it wasn’t without damage. Rei and Riolu weren’t the type to take many hits, but in a fight like this, it had been impossible to avoid. There had just been too many Nuzleaf, even with Navi running interference.

  She let her eyes linger on them.

  Still… like she’d suspected, they both looked far more worn out than they should have been.

  And that was especially true for Rei. Cynthia had seen firsthand how much punishment she could take—how many hits she could shrug off without slowing down. But now? One arm hung limp at her side, her breathing rough and uneven. She had only seen her take one clean hit, yet she looked like two or three more might’ve been enough to drop her.

  And that—

  She glanced toward Myst, but he was already moving, kneeling beside one of the fallen Nuzleaf. As he reached it, he glanced back—their eyes met for a brief moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them—before he turned his attention to the downed Pokémon, studying it in silence.

  After a moment, his frown deepened.

  “We’re going to change tactics, aren’t we?” he asked quietly.

  Cynthia didn’t answer right away, waiting until Volkner and Flint had moved close enough to hear. When they did, she nodded slowly.

  “I will, at least. The Pokémon here hit just as hard as ours when they use Grass-type moves—but they’re not actually strong, just boosted. After all, almost every Nuzleaf went down in one or two hits, and if that pattern holds, offense isn’t the issue—defense is. We should focus less on trading blows and more on avoiding damage altogether.”

  Volkner stopped beside her, one hand absently running along Luxio’s fur.

  “I can agree with that,” he said. “Less direct fighting, more focus on control and ranged attacks.” He nodded toward Roselia. “Wide-area moves too—Roselia wiped out half the field with a single hit.”

  Flint nodded thoughtfully beside Volkner.

  “Yeah, exactly. I mean, with how bad they are at taking hits, I’m almost tempted to send out Magby,” he said. “Without that boost, they’d probably be right around his level.” He gave a rueful smile and scratched the back of his neck. “Still, I definitely messed up. Should’ve had Monferno focus on big, sweeping attacks instead of trading punches. Flame Wheel, Fire Spin—he could’ve taken out whole clusters at once.”

  Myst shot him a look.

  “I thought you didn’t do that because you didn’t want to burn the forest down.”

  Flint shrugged, entirely unbothered.

  “Could always fix the fire after, right? Anyway, my point stands—these Pokémon hit hard, sure, but their actual strength isn’t anything special. About as weak as you’d expect wilds to be, more or less.”

  “While I wouldn’t exactly call that your point,” Johanna said lightly, “I do agree in principle. But maybe don’t get too confident—the Shiftry was pretty damn strong, after all.”

  Cynthia blinked, starting to turn toward her.

  “What Shif—”

  She froze.

  Nothing.

  Johanna wasn’t there.

  For a beat, Cynthia stared at empty air. Then, slowly, she glanced toward Myst.

  That didn’t help—he was staring just as blankly as she was.

  “Oh, right. Sassy, if you would?”

  Like a mirage coming into focus, Johanna’s form shimmered into existence. One moment, there was nothing; the next, she stood in the middle of the clearing, brushing a few leaves off her shoulder as if she’d been there all along.

  Then she paused, glancing down at the two cat-like Pokémon at her feet—Sassy and Midna—both looking extremely pleased with themselves. She leaned down to pat them… only for both to sidestep just out of reach in perfect sync.

  Johanna sighed, straightened, and blinked at the group’s collective stares.

  “What? Why do you all look so surprised? Or—well, I guess you two,” she nodded at Volkner and Flint, “get a pass. But my traveling companions?” Her grin widened. “You’ve seen my contests before. Is it really that shocking Sassy can hide me?”

  Myst narrowed his eyes, scanning her up and down. “Double Team?”

  Johanna nodded brightly. “Yup! And by the way—while you guys were busy fighting off the grunts, I also took out their leader for you.”

  She pointed a finger gun at them, winked, and added cheerfully, “No need to thank me.”

  …

  After the battle they had talked about turning back—voted on it, even—and decided, four to one, to keep going.

  Now, Cynthia was starting to regret her vote. Just a little.

  She shivered, tugging the blanket tighter around herself as if that might somehow help against the chill.

  It didn’t. Not really.

  So she sat there, trembling faintly, staring out into what was, for all intents and purposes, darkness.

  Of course, technically, it never got completely dark inside Mount Coronet. Night didn’t really exist. The faint glow of the crystals embedded in the cavern ceiling kept a low, ambient light going at all hours. Still, once the sunlight filtering through the cracks above faded away, everything still sank into shadow. And inside the forest? The thick canopy made sure that it would be close enough to night anyway.

  “Riolu?”

  You okay?

  Her reason for being awake, and cold, tilted his head toward her, voice quiet and questioning.

  Cynthia sighed softly. “It’s nothing. Second watch just sucks.”

  Riolu tilted his head slightly.

  “Riolu riolu?”

  First watch better?

  She hesitated, then exhaled. “Doesn’t really matter. I’d be freezing, and bored, either way.”

  Riolu nodded slowly, then turned his gaze toward the little meadow behind them, where five sleeping bags were lined up in the only patch of soft dirt they’d found. All five were occupied, her own claimed by Rei, who’d burrowed inside and spread out like a queen.

  Still, Riolu’s eyes didn’t linger on his crush. Instead, they settled on Myst.

  “Riolu, riolu?”

  You’re mates now?

  Cynthia blinked, caught off guard. Her gaze flicked from Myst’s sleeping face to Riolu’s wide, guileless eyes.

  And then the heat she had been lacking hit her face all at once.

  “Not mates,” she hissed, forcing her voice to stay quiet.

  Riolu blinked.

  “Riolu riolu rio? Riolu riolu?”

  But you kissed him? Isn’t that what human mates do?

  Cynthia opened her mouth, about to disagree.

  Then froze.

  Because, what was she even supposed to say to that?

  No, scratch that—how had he even seen it?

  She exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her face. “We’re together. Not mates. It’s… different for humans.”

  Riolu stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowing just slightly—then gave a skeptical hum.

  “Riolu.”

  Sure.

  Cynthia opened her mouth, again ready to protest, but before she could get a word out, Riolu’s head snapped toward the forest. His eyes narrowed, as a faint blue glow flickered to life inside them.

  Cynthia tensed, following his gaze into the dark.

  She couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t even really hear anything—just the quiet rhythm of Riolu’s breathing beside her, the soft exhales of their sleeping teammates, and the faint creak of branches shifting overhead.

  “You sensed anything?” She whispered under her breath.

  Riolu didn’t answer immediately, still scanning the treeline.

  “Riolu.”

  Not sure.

  “Riolu riolu.”

  Something felt unnatural—but it’s gone now.

  For several long minutes, she stayed still, barely breathing, until the faint blue glow in his eyes finally dimmed. Whatever he’d sensed, he fortunately didn’t feel it anymore.

  Or maybe unfortunately, because after that, time started to drag again. The silence stretched on, slow and heavy, until her eyelids began to droop—her body finally giving in to the fatigue she’d been holding off all evening.

  She didn’t even realize Myst was awake until he crouched beside her, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “My turn,” he whispered, voice low enough not to wake the others.

  Cynthia blinked sleepily, nodded once, and pushed herself up, brushing stray bits of grass from her blanket before slipping toward her sleeping spot. As she passed him, she caught Rei climbing out of her own bag and padding up to sit beside Myst, eyes bright even in the dark.

  Even so, by the time Cynthia settled down, half-asleep, she could still make out Riolu’s faint silhouette leaning against Queenie’s side—head tilted toward the forest, eyes open, still watching.