Chapter 4 — Part 1: Killing 2 Birds With 22 Stones

The haze lingered on his skin, with its rancid scent, with its bitter touch—not sweet as darkness should be. Amid the gloom, in the infinite void, not even his sockets were free of the smoke. It permeated everything, as if it were the very air he breathed.

 

He did not know where he was—on the tip of his tongue he had the answer, but he was unable to reach it, to let it leave his non-existent lips.

 

The dim figure loomed over him, as elusive as of old. It did not grow smaller, nor was it swift in its flight, but only watched from a prudent distance.

 

The tidal wave of dizziness made him recoil, feel as if his skin was melting into blackness; he almost bumped against his own feet, about to stumble over a rocky path invisible to his mortal eyes. He tried to run, but his feet were sinking into the darkness, as if it were mud.

 

It was going to swallow him alive, he was about to become one with the gloom.

 

He screamed—but there was no mouth to scream with. There was no head with which to think. He frantically looked sideways, and there he saw it—the appendage of the figure lost in the mist, extended toward him as a gesture of help. He didn’t knew why it wished to aid him, or why it had decided to remain this time, but he ceased to doubt his beneficiary, and stretched out his own paw to reach for—

 

BUMP!

 

The pain in his skull woke him dryly.

 

He snapped his eyes open, hearing the dull thud of something hard impacting against wood. He felt his heart pounding, danger lurking—but instead he only stared back at the same books stacked against a wall. With swift eyes, he noted how the bookshelf stood almost empty, threatening to collapse; revealing from behind the rows of books a leather satchel. 

 

The ralts was still resting peacefully on his hay bed, snuggled in on himself.

 

Feeling the throbbing in his forehead, Felix raised both hands to try to cover where he sensed the prickling, between his ears—his fingertips made contact with the bump of a newly formed bruise. He could feel it pulsing from the inside, accompanying his heart, and the ringing in his ears.

 

Before he could even breathe, the earth roared with the wrath of a colossal monster, shaking with terror. More books fell to the floor, the bookshelf once again threatening to collapse, with its loud vibrating. Even the satchel fell, echoing through the room with a thud. Objects flew back and forth, just as he did—his head once again struck the surface of the wall, though this time the damage was absorbed by the backs of his hands.

 

Instinctively he shut his eyes, letting the earthquake guide his trajectory. With a slam, the door swung open as he was thrown into it, hurtling out into the fleshy floor of the esophagus opening.

 

He felt the viscosity throb under his chin, with a wet, unpleasant tang like spittle. He opened one of his eyes, shaking just as the earth had a few moments ago, and saw no one in front of him—only the structures swaying like jelly, battered by the calamity of such a terrible earthquake, with the stools unable to stand and the ring strings vibrating like those of a guitar. Hesitantly he took his hands from his head, trying to support himself to lift from the spongy floor.

 

He took advantage when the strength of the floor weakened, feeling his skull rattle as the structures around him had done. That’s when he spotted him, the green-armored armadillo leaning against the side of the now open door. He had the name on the tip of his tongue—

 

“Felix, are you alright?” Mantoroh reached out a hand to help him rise fully, and the abra gladly accepted. His expression held a slight frown, with a gentle look like a calm sea.

 

He clenched his teeth, trying to swallow the whimpers of pain that threatened to escape his throat. “E-Eh— yes…” he rasped, using the cream-colored paw and brown claws to keep from collapsing once more—though the shaking had subsided.

 

With his other hand he held onto the wall, relaxing his grip. “It’s alright, take it easy,” he replied, and glanced to the sides. “You’re new on the ship, it’s normal that you’re not used to the sudden movements…” his voice lost volume, then he shook his head, returning to eye contact. “But you’ve done well for your first turbulence. Today was particularly rough.”

 

His mind, still trapped in the realm of nightmares, was unable to fully process the words—even pondering where the earthquakes were coming from. Soon the realization hit him: there was obviously turbulence within a whale, a ship where he was now housed. This was how the day was starting—and it would only get worse, he knew.

 

The ground was buffeted by another abrupt disturbance. Gravity tried to pull him toward the floor, but Mantoroh’s arm prevented his fall, covering him from his abdomen to under his armpit. “Another rough move—” his grip on the wall tightened, his legs trembling for a few moments.

 

But his words were interrupted by a sharp cry of surprise. He turned his head toward the source of the sound—the interior of the hut, for the familiar voice was unmistakable to him even in his stupor—

 

“Aaww…!” Conlogy squirmed in one of the corners of the room, back against the wall. He brought a hand to his head, but frantically his gaze shot around him. “Felix!? Where are you—!?” he exclaimed, though soon his eyes rested on the door frame. “Ah— there you are, I was worried for a second— well, less!” he sighed in relief, and sketched a broad smile. “I see you’re up early— I really wasn’t expecting that!” he stood up, leaning against the wall to slowly shuffle towards the door; still chattering. “You’re full of energy! I’m surprised because you don’t seem like the energetic sort of person, but I was wrong—! Ah, sorry to assume, but I’m glad anyway, if you even woke up before me!”

 

“Good morning, Conlogy,” Mantoroh greeted only nodding gently, cracking a small smile. “You’re in a good mood today,” his gaze went to the abra. “Zelodec told me that Felix is going to be joining you on missions from now on. I’m sure that’s why, right?”

 

“Exactly!” he nodded. “Have we already arrived at—?” his eyes widened, broad. “Oh, right— I almost forgot! The badges!” hurriedly, the ralts spun on his heels and scurried back toward the room, searching for something with his eyes.

 

Felix seized the opportunity to try to take a step back and steady himself, without having to use Mantoroh’s arm. With one step he staggered backwards, threatening to fall once more.

 

He was grabbed by the shoulder, and with a gentle tug he regained his balance. “Better?” The chesnaught released him. 

 

He felt a slight heat on his face—he was even helpless to stand on his own. He just hummed and nodded weakly, throat closed.

 

At least the armadillo didn’t get to comment any further, as Conlogy shot out of the hut again; now with a bag dangling from his chest, leather swaying gently from side to side just as they did. “Well, now I’m ready!” he exclaimed, and turned to face Mantoroh. “Have we reached Arcella Town—? Now I could ask, hehe.”

 

Mantoroh turned his head to glance toward the rest of the clearing. “Seeing the turbulence, we should be just about there,” he scanned the other huts, then turned his gaze back to the two of them. “I think I should go wake the others. Conlogy, you could go ahead and lead Felix to the exit, if that’s alright with you.”

 

“That’s what I was thinking of doing— we’ll be there in less time than a jolteon would run!” 

 

Felix grabbed hold of the wall on the opposite side from the chesnaught. His feet were more stable now, standing on the ground without the tremor of the roaring earth. A sensation bubbled in his esophagus, “umh. T-Thank you, by the way.”

 

Mantoroh glanced toward him. “Why, no problem,” he nodded, then set off for the next huts. He walked over the pulp without any complications, completely steady on the vibrating floor. “See you two later,” he waved his hand before leaving. That really was his job—Felix even felt sorry for him.

 

But there was no time to rest, for he felt the tug on his limb—Conlogy had already begun to drag him forward; in another situation he would find it amusing how the tiny creature was able to pull him from side to side just as the colossal Zelodec would, but in that instant, all he could think about was how his legs were not ready to take course. “Let’s go, let’s go!” he exclaimed as he ran forward.

 

His feet did not anticipate that—thus, they did not receive the movement well. He tripped over his own gait, stepping on his right foot with his left, causing him to tumble immediately to the ground. And along with him, the ralts was knocked down.

 

He felt the throbbing ground against his face, and he could tell that the same was the case for Conlogy. It was a pathetic sensation—of the most; no matter that he was unable to remember anything, there was no experience that could compare to laying his eyelids against the pulpy meat of a cetacean’s interior.

 

The warmth in his hand faded at the same time he heard a muffled shriek come from in front of him. “Umh—” he muttered, his face sinking into the flesh. Soon he raised his head; resting his palms on the ground. “Well, uh—!” he coughed, and turned to face Felix. “Felix—!” his mouth hung open, but he blinked. “I was going to blame you for falling but maybe I should have been slower, so… sorry?” he tilted his head to the side. “But it was a small mistake, just! Come on!” he stood up easily, and held out his hand to the abra.

 

…

 

Now that his legs rested and his arms reposed, the notion of lying down and dropping his eyelids sounded tempting. That he was on viscous pulp was irrelevant in this case—where his tired bones carried his psyche more than any kind of rationality, internal or external. He ignored the assistance in front of him, preferring to close his eyes and allowing his mind to wander into unconsciousness—

 

“Felix?” the ralts crouched down in front of him, one eyebrow raised. “Hey, you didn’t—” his voice lowered in pace, more akin to a whisper, as he bent his body to check his condition; his hands hesitating on what to do. “You didn’t fall that hard, did you—? Oh, by arceus—” the tinge in his tone continued to grow, gently shaking the abra’s body. “Human, come on…”

 

…A sensation beneath his bandages tore once more—and would continue until Felix made it clear that he had not slipped unconscious. Reluctantly he groaned, “Can’t we go later…?” he muttered, still with his eyes closed. He could feel the green smoke entering his nostrils—almost, close but so far away.

 

Conlogy got up and snorted, stamping his foot softly beside him. “Oh, by arceus, you’re fine— but— Hey, no way— human!” he whined, bringing his hands toward his hips. “If we don’t go, everyone else is going to take the missions first— and we won’t be able to do anything!” 

 

Instead, he groaned and only stammered with a faint energy, “I’m going… now…” his vision was only welcomed by the darkness; by the pain in his ribs, as placid as the dream world would be. “Just a little more…”

 

With another huff and another stomp, a tight-mouthed grunt was emitted by Conlogy, who scowled. “Then… if you don’t get up…!” he bent down—placing his hands on Felix’s arms. “I’ll carry you myself!” he applied full force to yank him up.

 

But to his misfortune, he wasn’t Zelodec or any other larger pokémon—so his attempt was met only by more numb groans from the abra, immobile on the ground. “Go…” He dropped all his weight on the floor, there was no chance for a smaller creature like a ralts to even budge him from his position; much less forcibly lift him. He tried to gently push him away, but with heavy muscles he was only able to wiggle his fingers.

 

“No, you said that…!” His heels sunk into the flesh to anchor him to his position and use the full weight of his body to exert force. “We made a deal, human!” he clenched his teeth, barely moving Felix by inches. “Besides— you can’t sleep here, you’re in the middle of the ship!” 

 

Whether they had a bargain or not was also irrelevant to him—he wasn’t even able to remember it, though he wasn’t able to recall a great deal of things. Like his identity. Or his family. Maybe he hadn’t had one in his previous life.

 

But that didn’t matter, not when the dream world was going to leave all that behind—it was all going to plunge into nothingness, and that was fine with him. The flesh, like a couch, slowly molded itself to the shape of his body—

 

He felt gravity pull him upward.

 

He suddenly snapped his eyes open, seeing how the ground was already inches away from his face. The warm, thick touch caused him to look behind his back, his gaze being met by the shape of the end of a yellow cannon, its tiny claws gripping his posterior. The strength they presented was capable of pulling him up like a sack of potatoes no more than full of air.

 

At the first second he wiggled his feet in panic, these waving in the air. The next he could recognize what was happening, inhaling sharply.

 

“He’s right. No sleeping in the middle of the ship,” the voice that yearned for sleep more than Felix and raspy came from the magmortar; Karoson, who glared back at him with his small jet-colored pupils just above thick lips.

 

Felix’s mouth parted open, with a soft whimper coming from it. His throat closed, the words dying on the way and he swallowed saliva, staring—fearing at the consequences of his irrational action.

 

“It’s unprofessional,” he commented, with no emotion behind his words. Without another say, he lowered the abra to the ground, and subsequently turned his gaze toward the ralts. “If you’re tired, I can help you with missions.”

 

Considering Karoson’s size; and those cannons with the likely ability to fire through them, the offer was not negative at all—not in Felix’s perspective. In his eyes any help was welcomed against the idea of violence that would only destroy him. Therefore—

 

Conlogy shook his head, “no— thank you! But we’re fine, Karoson, don’t worry,” he hastened to say, a gentle smile on his face. “Besides my mate is just exaggerating, we’re not tired at all!”

 

He was. But he was still in time to correct his words, “a-actually—”

 

Karoson nodded. “I see,” he spun around, turning his back on them to instead face the direction where Conlogy had run—the hallway of darkness with the destiny to the exit of the throat. “If you need help just tell me,” with that, he departed into the gloom—the flames from his shoulders illuminating his surroundings.

 

And there stood Felix—with one hand outstretched forward reaching for his life raft; which with every second moved farther away from them both. Observing how his figure became more tiny in the distance. With the words still on the tip of his tongue.

 

He gently clenched his fists.

 

…He wasn’t frustrated, not at all.

 

He took a deep breath and sighed. Another failure on his part was not unexpected, if totally honest.

 

Conlogy mumbled something that Felix didn’t manage to hear; of not even noticing that something had been mentioned, and then clapped—that filled his voice with enthusiasm, as if it were magic. “We really don’t need help. We can handle this alone, come on, let’s go!” he fished Felix’s arm once more, looking ahead. “Karoson is going to take missions even before the captain— though he almost always does that, so I don’t know why I’m complaining…” he rambled. 

 

They both commenced to advance, though this time Conlogy led the path more slowly. Felix could only wonder how this was what awaited him for the rest of the day—infinite enthusiasm that he was incapable of even mimicking or catching up with. All that was left for him was to pray to a god —he didn’t even know which one, for even that he couldn’t remember— so that he wouldn’t find himself dead in the afternoon in the middle of a ditch. He couldn’t remember what that was.

 

It was good to disregard anything related to his memories. For his health. The mental one, for the other was going to be damaged no matter what.

 

“Come on, human, this way,” he indicated as they both made passage into the darkness—by the ralts expert footsteps, it was clear he knew the way like the back of his hand; regardless of his vision being reproached solely by the black. 

 

With a fleeting glance he watched as they left the light behind—the warm illumination growing tinier and tinier in the distance until the buildings became nothing more than blurs in his sight. He sighed, resigned to his fate.

 

They continued for a long while, in which he felt the floor change—a less firm, more glutinous one, where spittle stuck to the soles of his feet like stinky glue. The grip around his arm tightened a bit, the pace slowing.

 

“We’re getting there… I know it seems a little dark, but once you get used to Beatrix’s esophagus it’s easy to cruise, so don’t worry!” Conlogy commented, only his voice and the warmth of his hand noticeable in the gloom. “It’s gonna be no time at all before you can walk this way on your own, human— for today I can guide you, though tomorrow you could try walking on your own. Though you might get lost— or fall, so…” 

Even if he dreaded the blackness around him, he could feel some heat on his face—being led around as if he were an infant was not something to his liking. “S-Sure, tomorrow…” he found it hard to accept that this experience would not be a one-time occurrence; it would be something for weeks, perhaps months. His heart sank in his chest.

 

They proceeded on their walk—soon in the distance he was able to distinguish the warm orange light that lit Beatrix’s maw; the teeth inside with a saffron tinge upon them. It was emitted by the flames from light sparks in the air, causing a faintly familiar smell. Karoson was standing in front of the white marble, in utter silence.

 

“And… here we are!” Conlogy stepped into the light along with his partner, letting go of his arm to move forward for a few more steps toward the closed exit. “See how we were already close? I told you we were getting here! it’s a pretty short way once you get used to it— like I said!” he stretched his arms out to the sides.

 

“I-I guess…” he sighed—relieved, due to the fact that they had escaped the darkness. Still, a short lull was brewed between the three—Karoson minding his own business and Felix for not knowing what else to say. “Umh…” his gaze shifted to the front. “Now what…?”

 

Conlogy spun on his heels to face the abra. “Now we wait—! Until Beatrix opens her mouth. Which should happen soon…” his voice trailed off softly, “though normally that happens when everyone arrives, so…” he hummed. “Soon—!”

 

He was interrupted by the colossal rumbling.

 

The ground roared, excessive shaking like an earthquake, mercilessly trembling the floor. Felix was the first to drop, his face smashing into the tongue before he could even react. Conlogy staggered forward, maneuvering with his whole body to step backward and brace his back against the great wall of bone that was the teeth—which were parting. Karoson wobbled from side to side, but by simply leaning his arm to one end he was able to maintain his balance completely, without any complications whatsoever. 

 

Shaken as if the very fury of the gods had descended upon them, he watched the rays of light make their way into the interior of the jaw—for like a colossal door the gates of flesh and bones opened, their heavy movement pushing aside the water beneath the cetacean. The path to the exterior now visible, and with a final abrupt motion, the floor on which they stood lifted a few inches; resting the full weight of the tongue on… the wood of a dock.

 

Still with his chin pressed against the pulpy, Felix watched as what now surrounded them; the outside, they found themselves on the wood that protruded out into the open sea, which led to a pale yellow shore. The salty scent mingled with the smell of mass and urban life. Rock stairs led up to a path of the same material, pebbles that made their way down to what —on the horizon— appeared to be houses. More akin to diffuse blurs were the figures that went from one side to the other, some were human-like, others not.

 

Felix inhaled deeply—he wished with all his soul that it wouldn’t happen again, but he couldn’t count on it. He pressed his palms against the ground but ceased when he saw the hand Conlogy had offered him, “Come on, human. I know it’s easy to fall the first time, it happened to me when I joined too— though Strivete didn’t, but being fair he can fly so—”

 

“T-Thank you…” he accepted the help, the gentle force propelled his body to his feet. He was answered with a soft beaming smile. However, his right ear twitched once he detected the sound coming from behind him-it was footsteps. He turned to face the source.

 

And he stared as, from the gloom, the other members of the crew emerged, stepping from the tongue and viscous drooling corridor. It was Zelodec, Arinton and Doshe, the captain leading the way ahead. 

 

Zelodec whistled at the sight of him, and waved his hand. “Gee, so Manti was right! Ye’re up early, boy!” he exclaimed, hurrying to stand beside him and pat him on the shoulder, chuckling. “Nothing better than a morning prankster, or did Conlogy wake ya up? I wouldn’t be surprised, that ole boy’s full of energy!” 

 

“No, Captain!” the ralts shook his head, turning his gaze towards the giant four-armed creature—of which he still did not know his name beyond the personal, or perhaps the species was just called that. “The hu-” his eyes widened and he bit his tongue purposefully, “I mean,” he cleared his throat. “Felix was up before me, Captain! I didn’t expect him to be a morning person either, really, but that’s just better!”

 

As the two chatted, Felix had discovered a part of his identity —new or old he was unable to say— and that was that he detested earthquakes. The roaring shuddering of the earth was capable of also rattling his bones. He rubbed the end of his muzzle, trying to ignore the sensation in his nerves from the sudden crash.

 

“So he wake ya up…” Zelodec snorted. “He must have woken ya up by pranking ye, bwahaha!” he clutched his belly with one of his hands, and once he ceased to take a breath, he turned his gaze towards the magmortar. “I see ye’re up early too,” though his smile remained, his tone had a tinge to it that was hard to even detect.

 

Karoson merely nodded, failing to even turn his head before setting foot off the whale’s tongue—inside the wood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get the missions,” and with that he led the way, stepping off the dock onto the stairs that led down the pebble road to the village in the distance.

 

“Sure, no problem!” Zelodec flashed a thumbs up. He turned his head to watch the others behind him —more figures moving in the darkness arriving from the hallway— and motioned to call out to them with his hand, waving it in the air. “C’mon, let’s go, it’s been a while since we last checked out Arcella!” he patted Felix on the back, and with that, the heat left him once more. “Go ahead, recruit!” he added, then set course forward, abandoning the whale’s tongue. “I sure hope Agent Magnezone isn’t too mad, hahahah…” he muttered to himself.

 

Before Felix could move, past him passed the lizard known as Doshe. As soon as the sun’s rays made contact with his scales, he raised his hand to shield his forehead—like the visor of a cap. “Isn’t it hotter than usual today?” he hissed, hunching his body, following closely behind the broad back leading the way.

 

“I don’t think so! The sun always shines bright in the mornings.”

 

For a brief instant he caught sight of the ralts flinching against the light—although Felix was momentarily blinded, so he could comprehend the feeling of the brief pain in his eyeballs, as if an anvil had pressed against his vision for just a mere instant. What mattered to him, however, was the sensation in his feet—the smooth wooden planks. That accompanied what his other senses could feel, such as the salty scent, or the distant squawking of birds and the roar of gentle waves at dawn.

 

He permitted the ralts to control the rhythm of his gait and guide his path, this one following behind Doshe. Out of the corner of his eye he could observe how the others also emerged from Beatrix’s maw and placed themselves in the advancing line. Soon his feet passed from the neat wood to the odd yellow sand, and then touched with his soles the cobblestone of the path that led to the village.

 

In front of him he spotted Zelodec stop the motion of his legs, turning on his heels to stare back—his gaze was higher than any other, scanning the horizon, and he stretched out his arms to wave them in the air— “We’re returnin’ soon, Beatrix! See ya!”

 

Felix felt goosebumps as he listened to the waves of sound that rumbled the floor where he stood. “Good luck on the job, guys,” the female voice said in a soft tone.

 

As that happened, Felix glimpsed from the corner of his eye a demonic blue blur run past him—that was Fash, who with his short legs was able to dash forward like a fireball to walk right by Zelodec’s side.

 

Zelodec headed up a flight of stairs that facilitated the ascent of a slope, and when he reached the top —to some infertile dirt grounds— he took only a few more steps before ceasing his gait, giving space to those who came behind him.

 

Then Fash halted, Doshe, and finally they arrived. The kinetic force ceased to pull Felix back and forth—when he looked ahead, he beheld Karoson along with other pokémon he had never seen before.

 

The magmortar clutched a deck of letter-sized pages in his hand, held firmly between his claws that sprouted from the tips of his cannons. “Thank you,” he nodded, caught in the middle of a conversation. He lifted the cards from his grasp, quickly reading through these before nodding once more—from the thickness of these alone, Felix could count a minimum of twenty.

 

“BZZ. YOU SHOULD WAIT FOR YOUR CAPTAIN TO GIVE THEM TO YOU. BZZ!” the other creature in front of him was a long, thick steel disk, floating about three feet off the ground—with one edge sticking out of the diameter of its main body, for at its sides were two balls, from which sprouted magnets, red and blue-tipped, like the sirens of a police car. Its red-pupiled eye was focused on Karoson.

 

At the sides of the disk pokemon were two other beings, similar to the additions to its body—single-eyed steel spheres, with two magnets on their flanks and a screw poking out of their heads. On one of them; the lefthand one, crossed the leather of a strip attached to a half-open bag, with the paper standing out and tucked inside.

 

“No need for that,” Karoson replied, and turned his head to face Zelodec.

 

For a moment, he could feel the tension like a thread as effortless to sever as butter.

 

“Captain,” he spun his body around to face him—no one muttered anything. “I’ve already seized the missions, so I’m leaving,” he blurted out, then turned his back on them all in a monotone, leaving the place without another word.

 

The bagon was the one who spoke first, giving a small jump accompanied by a radiant smile. “Good luck, Uncle Karoson!” he exclaimed, waving his hand as he watched him depart.

 

The others had already arrived, witnessing the situation. He heard the sigh coming from Mantoroh.

 

The disk creature rotated on its axis to face Zelodec. “BZZ. MAYBE YOU SHOULD—”

 

Zelodec clapped his hands once, flashing his wide grin before stepping forward to approach the one who spoke to him. “Nah, all good, don’t worry, Agent Magnezone! We’ve got everything under control!” he displayed two thumbs up.

 

He could assume, then, that they were the cops—the similarity of the colors made it no mystery to him. “BZZZ. ALRIGHT. YOUR CREW, YOUR RULES. BZZZ,” it narrowed its eye. “BZZZ. THERE ARE OTHER ISSUES OF HIGHER RELEVANCE: SUCH AS YOUR DELAY. YOU HAVE ARRIVED FIVE DAYS, TEN HOURS AND THIRTY MINUTES LATER THAN EXPECTED. BZZZ.” Although its tone was monotonous; as was to be expected from a mechanical being, its complaint could be felt in the soul. “BZZ. DUE TO THIS, THE AMOUNT OF MISSIONS HAS PILED UP BY AS MUCH AS TWENTY-FIVE PERCENT AND—”

 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Zelodec reached out his hands sideways, turning on his heels to angle his body to the right, so as to pat Agent Magnezone on the back—or what could be considered as such. “Calm down, man, I was doin’ some missions on an island!” he interrupted with a smile. “It’s just some nothin’ missions, we can handle it!”

 

“BZZ,” its own voice was akin to a spark of electricity—like the buzzing of a bee. “BZZ. AFFIRMATIVE. YOUR TEAM HAS SHOWN GREAT PRODUCTIVE CAPACITY, WE ARE CONFIDENT YOU CAN. BZZ.” — Then, without warning, their magnets pointed in arc trajectory into the air before beginning to flash brightly; red and blue, resembling the sirens of a police vehicle.

 

Like a chemical reaction, the hovering spheres beside it mimicked the gesture—the bag one advancing towards Zelodec, the leather dangling from its body due to the smooth motion.

 

“Don’t worry, we always can! When did I ever fail ya, agent?” Zelodec chuckled before turning his stare towards the bag, his hand going to snatch it up; as he did so the ball returned to its original position. “Thank ye!” with one of his free hands he held up his thumb.

 

The magnets ceased their flickering glow. “BZZ. THAT’S IT. OVER AND OUT. BZZ!” in unison —chillingly— all three turned their backs to them, and departed to the town.

 

He had barely comprehended the conversation and the actions that had occurred in it. He twisted his head slightly to look at Conlogy, searching for answers—though perhaps his gesture was in vain, for the ralts could not see his incredulous look in his eyes; so in the end he was left with only using his voice: “hey, Conlogy…” he whispered. “What… what just happened? W-Who are they—?” he could only assume but it was better to confirm.

 

“Them?” Conlogy tilted his body to lean a few inches close—without mimicking the volume of his voice. “Oh, right—” he began to whisper likewise, “human, I forgot you didn’t know these things—” he cleared his throat softly, casting a glance toward the retreating agents. “The big one was Agent Magnezone, and they’re is a Magnezone. The other two were the Magnemite officers, and they’re members of the police, the ones who give us the missions every time we come to a town— they’re the ones who collect the stuff, because we don’t do it, they do, like I said. The captain takes them and then he distributes it— among everybody, of course, although Karoson took some, sometimes he does that—”

 

“A-Alright g-got it, thanks…” Felix interrupted in a low voice, trying not to descend into the depths of a long rambling. Though he couldn’t help but remark on the absurd design of that system—multiple questions remained up in the air, such as why they weren’t capable of doing the missions themselves, or why rely on sailors who only arrived after days or even months. Even if they were unable to fulfill civilian requests on their own, they could just hire people on their own.

 

He felt that all those doubts were valid and justified.

 

He also believed that keeping quiet was a good strategy.

 

Zelodec spun on his heels to face those present, the leather ball swollen in his grip; cards threatening to spring from within to be carried away on the breeze of the barren land. His smile faltered for a moment, and one of his arms went to point—going one by one, muttering something under his breath to himself. “Wait— ah, no,” he blurted out, and cleared his throat before clapping his hands. “Well! Well, well, If we’re all here now, then we can start handing out the missions,” he let out, hastily opening the bag.

 

“Shouldn’t we head back to the ship to tally up the missions first?” Mantoroh inquired, behind the whole group. He gently pushed Sancyel —who was in his way and only grumbled before biting his tongue— aside to reach and face Zelodec head-on.

 

The four-armed creature only gestured up and down, at the same time his hand dipped inside the bag, clutching a handful of cards. “Nah, if we’re all here already and we can count them in a bit, better here, and we won’t waste a second!” he exclaimed, and shifted his gaze towards the group. “Do ye want to go back to the ship?”

 

“I don’t see any problem with us doing it outdoors,” Huirai replied—causing the fresh air outside to dry up as if they were deep in the earth. Or maybe he was just exaggerating.

 

Arinton roared. “I don’t see the point either! Come on, let’s pick fast, I wanna do missions!” he seemed to vibrate from sheer excitement, stepping forward to reach in to grab the missions, pulling out an amount—causing several to fall. “Ah—” he didn’t even make the effort to bend down.

 

The one who picked them up was the azure blur, the bagon who grabbed them with his teeth in the air and with his paws, then ran to return them toward the chesnaught. “Ta’eth, da’th!” he mumbled, his fangs busy holding the yellow-colored papers in position in his jaws. 

 

Mantoroh picked them up, and proceeded to stick his other paw inside the bag right next to him, as he found himself standing next to the four-armed pokémon. “Thank you, Fash,” he sketched a friendly smile; in one of his hands the cards and the other carrying more towards the slowly forming deck. His eyes scanned the ink symbols written on the paper.

 

… He didn’t understand what was happening—unable to process, let alone comprehend how the situation at hand didn’t seem strange to anyone. He saw no point in creating decks of unfamiliar letter-sized papers, and could only watch, dumbfounded.

 

Conlogy’s horn began its flickering glow, dim and faint, waiting patiently at his side. He rotated his face to observe the visible confusion in his partner, and leaned a few inches close to him. “Ah— human,” he whispered, “we’re choosing missions, in case you didn’t know— which you don’t so I’ll explain. Mantoroh and the captain review the missions and order them by rank, then we can take the ones we want.”

 

… He failed to see the point. They could leave the amount and let them select it; it would take less time, with the same results. He didn’t even know there were ranks—he wondered who decided them, or how they were decided.

 

But silence was the technique of the survivors, so he restricted himself to watch as Zelodec emptied the bag and handed its contents to the full-handed chesnaught.

 

Swiftly, Mantoroh read and skimmed the symbols written in dry ink, muttering to himself, “fifteen rank B… two rank A…” with the celerity of a master, he moved a card back and forth, arranging them in his hands. A full minute —which Felix counted inside his mind— of silence; interrupted by the soft whispers and sounds coming from idle individuals, passed until the papers ceased their movement, divided into a large deck. “Well, we have fifty-six missions in total.”

 

“By Arceus!” the arms of Zelodec left the bag, to instead rest an elbow on Mantoroh’s shoulder, giving the envelope-sized papers a glance, and whistled. “Agent Magnezone wasn’t kidding, bwahaha!”

 

“Can we handle them all in a week?” Doshe asked, calmness never deserting his voice.

 

Between only ten of them, that meant each one should take between five or six. In his mind he referred to them as creatures or just pokémon, but there should probably be a broader, shorter term: like ‘mon.

 

The possibility of calling them monsonas was raised. It was immediately dismissed.

 

Zelodec cracked a laugh. “No worries, Doshi! That we only have to do one little job to spare, no hurry and no trouble, besides, ya’ll are all hard workers, so I bet ye’ll finish about fifty missions of nothin’ in no time!”

 

“In less than a Jigglypuff can sing, Captain!” the incineroar grinned, and leaned to the side to put a hand on the reptile’s shoulder. “Come on, don’t be lazy! How will you ever get to be so cool if a bunch of nothing missions intimidate you!?” he asked, no malice in his heart.

 

Doshe’s expression didn’t falter an inch. “I was thinking more about the missions that are going to arrive in the middle of the week,” his tail wagged idly.

 

“Well, we can address that later— although it’s a reasonable concern. Now, I’ll read the missions, if you don’t mind,” he cleared his throat; causing silence from those present, and took a deep breath. “We have one eight-star criminal search mission, two four-star escort missions, one three-star escort ones, three one-star rescue missions, nine S-rank rescue ones, two A-rank escort missions, ten B-rank rescue ones, seven B-rank criminal search ones, nine C-rank escort ones, nine C-rank criminal search ones, two D-rank rescue ones, and one D-rank object search mission.”

 

He could vow in the depths of his soul that he had tried to comprehend the myriad of information that assaulted his senses without any mercy, but he had failed in the process, awash in the doubts that arose from his own mind: he didn’t understand what the stars were, or how the ranks worked—but it made sense that they were from the easiest; the latest letter in the alphabet, to the most difficult, such as A.

 

Huirai sighed—of relief. “The good ones are still there. I was afraid Karoson had taken the good ones,” he smiled slightly. Felix felt a shiver, so he decided to look away.

 

Zelodec clapped his hands once, loudly, echoing off the coast they had left behind. “Well, ya heard him, so it’s time to take on the missions, boys!” the enthusiastic glow had returned to his gaze, and his eyes went to glance at the entire group. “Who wants to start?” 

 

He could assume what they were going to begin for, but he didn’t know the process. The sensible thing to do was to wait for someone else to step up and learn by watching—

 

“Us first, Captain!” the ralts beside him exclaimed, raising his hand to set his little feet in motion toward Mantoroh.

 

…The alarms in his mind went wild, and the cry of protest was only heard by his own psyche, watching helplessly as—

 

Arinton cut him off, his soles leaving coal where his feet trod—causing Conlogy to step back, returning to Felix. “Step aside, lil’ buddy, I’ve got a mission on lock-on and it’s not getting away from me!” his chest puffed out, a wide grin as his gaze fell on the papers held by the chesnaught.

 

“You? You shall be the one to acclaim a mission first?” the bird soared into the sky, flying up to perch in front of the anthropomorphic cat—he had his beak tilted upward, one eyebrow arched. “Then you are mistaken. I shall be the one to select an assignment before anybody else.” 

 

Earth splashed Felix’s legs —who recoiled, cringing— as the pebble pillar slammed into the ground with a mighty thud. Being fulminated by Strivete’s gaze, Sancyel did not relent and rested his eyes on him. “I’m gettin’ all bothered by your gutless rich-ass talk ya’re on about, ya pushover,” he blurted out, and with a step forward he approached the chesnaught. “So I’m gonna choose over your pompous hecking arse at the very least. Yeah.”

 

“I don’t think this is that serious, so I’ll pass for now,” Doshe flicked his tongue out, and took a step back to allow them space.

 

He was followed by Huirai, “I can pick later.”

 

Even though some had retreated, the tension felt palpable in the atmosphere—like a pressure stagnating the air in place. While Arinton still wore a haughty smile, the look between Sancyel and Strivete could kill anyone who stood between the two.

 

“Pompous? Daring words issued from a barbarian; and negative, my words were not a mere suggestion,” he replied sharply, voice like ice.

 

Sancyel frowned, lifting the chunk of stone and letting its underside hit the ground once more—causing the cracks to lash the earth lightly. “Now you think ya can give me orders or what, lookin’ heck good-for-nothing torchic?” his voice raised, as did his body posture.

 

“Excuse me?” In response, the owl lifted his voice, indignation tangible in his tone. “You equate me with a substandard evolution level species, when you are but a filthy city rat—?”

 

“Hey, hey, stand still! Everyon’!” Zelodec stepped between the two, pushing the two discussion participants to the side. “We’re just picking missions, boys. Easy, I’ll pick who gets the missions out first, better!” he held his arms up. “So take a breath and take a step back, alrighty, alright?”

 

Strivete grumbled before ceasing his flight, turning on his heels before retreating. 

 

“…Whatever,” Sancyel spat at his feet, and followed Strivete’s action.

 

The one who hadn’t backed down at all was the incineroar, still in his stance without even flinching. “So how are we gonna choose?” his foot tapped the ground softly in an idle motion.

 

Zelodec snapped his fingers, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all ready now… here!” he tapped the pad of his index finger on his temple. He stepped back, taking a safe distance from everyone present, closed his eyes…

 

And began to spin. On his own axis.

 

Just like infants, when they made themselves dizzy.

 

Felix’s jaw dropped. The situation was akin to a puzzle, of pieces that each time he looked at them they dismantled all his initial thinking. Now he was no longer sure how this fit together.

 

He blinked a couple of times before looking to the sides, trying to gauge the expressions of the others—no surprised faces. Not a single jaw dropped, just expectant or neutral expressions. 

 

…

 

There was never a better strategy than silence. He returned his gaze to Zelodec.

 

A few seconds later it was when he ceased his rotating, coming to an abrupt halt. He raised one of his arms, pointing his index finger at the one in front of him. “And it’s your… turn!” he exclaimed, his eyelids lifted to let him observe the world.

 

The one he was pointing at was the incineroar, which smiled vaster and wider.

 

“WELL, I’VE GOT ALL THE LUCK! YEAH!” The incineroar roared, pumping both fists in a forward lean. 

 

The conkeldurr snarled, grumbling to himself before taking another step closer to mingle with the group. Strivete didn’t bother to complain, only with a slight scornful grunt. Conlogy’s shoulders slumped, as did his posture. “Aw. Well, I hope they don’t snatch the missions from us, the good ones— the bad ones they can take them…”

 

He pondered about whether the ralts had gone insane. Perhaps they had all lost their minds. Probably he had too.

 

With faint sparks leaving his fur with each footstep, the incineroar marched up to Mantoroh. Roughly he snatched three of the cards from the deck, not even bothering to say a word. His eyes fell upon the contents, and then with another equally rough motion he slipped them inside his trusty satchel—which everyone present possessed. 

 

“Don’t you want to check them first?” The chesnaught asked, still holding the papers in his hand.

 

Arinton shook his head, his claws in the thick leather. “No, I’m all served!” and with a step backwards, he commenced his stride towards the village in the distance—he raised his arm to wave his paw in the air, “Good luck! May that bring you up to my level! Hahaha!” and he walked off laughing.

 

Huirai raised his hand silently, as a waving farewell motion as he watched the feline retreat—Conlogy did the same, so Felix mimicked the gesture. “Good luck, Uncle Arinton!” Fash was the one who exclaimed, waving his short arm quickly. 

 

“Good luck!” he joined in the goodbye, turning on his heels to face him. Smoothly he spun back around, giving another loud clap to cut through the noise and others’ gestures. “Alrighty, let’s go to the next one!” — And he began to spin. It was similar to a spinning top. As soon as the word appeared on his tongue as soon it vanished.

 

After a few seconds he ceased the movement, this time his index finger pointing towards Doshe.

 

“Ah. How nice, my turn, then,” the sway of his tail was almost hypnotic to Felix. With parsimony and a hunched stance, he approached Mantoroh. He flipped the papers to face the reptile, and the latter stood on tiptoe to match his height.

 

Doshe’s gaze loomed over the cards. Slowly his paw lifted, deciding to take three different missions. In his hand, he repositioned them, “Well, I’m served. Good luck,” was his only farewell as he took off towards the horizon.

 

“Good luck, Uncle Doshe!”

 

Fingers tapped rhythmically on the upper part of the rock pillars. Strivete swept the dust from his body with his feathers. Before the tension could dig its claws into them once more, Zelodec clapped his hands. “alrighty— to the next one,” and he spun again.

 

He’d had time to process it, figure out the system—but that only left him more bewildered, more lost in the situation. It was frankly ridiculous, there being thousands of better methods… but he had to be strategic.

 

He managed to pause and ponder for only a few moments before Zelodec stopped his movement, pointing forward. The index finger was pointing at someone in particular, which felt a shiver as it met his eyes—it was Felix. “Well, well, well, aren’t ya lucky, prankster!” he cackled, his hand for an instant going to pat him on the shoulder before noticing the difference in distance and yielding.

 

His muscles stiffened, back tense and firm, tail held high; pointing to the sky. He didn’t know for certain what to do, or how to proceed, for he had barely learned—

 

He was pulled —physically and from the eternal well of doubt— by Conlogy, pumping his free hand and with the other grasping Felix’s. “Let’s go—! You’re lucky, Felix! More perks of having you as a partner, I guess, though there were several important ones already—! Though maybe it’s too early to say if you’re lucky or not—” he moved towards Mantoroh, dragging the abra. “Whatever, let’s go!”

 

Carried to find himself in front of the still crouching chesnaught, he watched as Conlogy tiptoed up to read the missions. Felix merely stood behind the ralts, further to the left.

 

Thanks to his superior height, he was capable of peering over his companion’s shoulder, examining the papers in his vision with his gaze.

 

…

 

He squinted his eyes. It was logical that he was incapacitated to read such illegible symbols, but still his eyes darted from side to side, trying to discern or decipher their meaning—to no avail. He tensed his muscles in order to stop the faint trembling.

 

Conlogy stared, highly concentrated—or so he could assume, considering that he was not capable of reading minds. Perhaps there was a possibility, but he had no idea how to do so, so it didn’t matter.

 

Swiftly the ralts snatched a mission from the deck—one of the ones in Mantoroh’s right hand. “This one! This is a good one— I think!” he exclaimed, turning on his heels to face Felix, starting to walk. “We’re ready! Aren’t you excited? This is your first mission, this is going to be so cool and—!” 

 

The sound of someone clearing their throat intercepted him in his rambling. “Uh… Conlogy, not to imply anything, but…” Mantoroh held up one of his index fingers as he spoke, “that mission is a B-rank, and Felix is new to the crew, so maybe…” his voice trailed off.

 

“Don’t worry, Mantoroh— we may be weak… but we can take on a no-good criminal!” he replied, with all the confidence in the world as he puffed out his chest.

 

A criminal.

 

His alarms instantly roared. Just the mention of those words echoing in his mind were sufficient to ignite the flickering red and crimson in his skull, urging him to cease whatever was happening at that instant. To try to halt his own death sentence. His ears lowered; flattened against his forehead, and the muscles grew rigid as solid stones. If he had assumed correctly, B-rank missions were the second most complicated. Conlogy was driving them to hell—to Felix more than anyone else.

 

His throat closed fiercely, only a laugh escaping without a hint of humor or air from his lungs. His voice trembling, he gently grasped the white creature’s arm, staring straight at him. “Ha, ha, ha.. C-Conlogy. I— I think— I-I think h-he’s r-right. Ha, ha,” his laughter was a cry for help. “W-What i-if, uh, w-we take a… a more— a more e-easy… mission? P-Please?” he tried to smile—totally unsteady. 

 

“How about a D-rank mission?” his gaze shot briefly to the cards, settling on the ones in his left hand before handing it over—the paper seemed to glow with salvation. But the offer faltered as Mantoroh retracted his hand, his eyes slightly widening, “ah, I didn’t mean to imply that—”

 

The sheer sigh of relief interrupted him, “P-please. Y-Yes. T-Thank you,” he inhaled sharply, awaiting the ralts response.

 

His glance shifted from one to the other before he grimaced. “But— well, alright…” he relented, and with a sigh handed the paper in his hand to Mantoroh, getting the new mission instead. “So, let’s go? This was a downer… I’m sure we could do that mission but if you insist,” he didn’t even bother to grab Felix’s arm, instead preferring to set off towards the horizon—town of small figures. The abra followed.

 

“Good luck, new friend, and brother Conlogy!” Fash waved his arms, accompanying the silent Huirai who only nodded as he watched them depart. 

 

He glanced out of the corner of his eye as they both retreated; in the distance Zelodec’s voice was easily recognizable, ready to pick the next one. It was not a good system. 

 

Positioning his sight ahead and walking behind the ralts, the closer they came to the village. The houses; of a material similar to kiln-fired clay, were now no mere blurs of orange colors but concise, stable shapes in his vision. On the pebbled streets, pokémon of all kinds were abundant. Unknown species he had never seen before —though he had not met too many— of warm colors that mimicked those of the environment, some with fire emanating from their bodies, others solid as the rock they stepped on, earthy and birds flying overhead.

 

He felt the earth slip between his toes, the stone rubbing against the soles of his feet. The heat manifested itself as sweat trickled down his forehead and back, wrapped in the warming embrace of the star of the infertile dirt moor.

 

He missed shoes. He pondered whether pokémon had invented them.

 

The lack of paved streets only made the experience more uncomfortable; order existed only due to the pebble paths that formed the roads, with the multiple houses on the sides—which grew higher in number the further they went. He marched very close to Conlogy, trying to pass through the crowd of ‘mons advancing from one place to the other. They passed by the side of a long square filled with market stalls, with small children of short stature playing among them. 

 

Vessels, sanded pieces of stone, apples, seeds, fruit, various articles of things he was unable to identify—everything was on display, in the streets as well as in the square. People shopping, going about their daily lives. Luckily, Conlogy didn’t lead him into the myriad of people, just moving to the front and leaving the accumulation of the crowd behind.

 

He noticed how Conlogy slowed his pace, to instead move along with him—at a similar speed. “So…! Are you ready for your first mission?” he asked, the paper still in the soft grip of his fingerless hand. 

 

Felix scratched behind his neck, “uh…” no, “I think?” he shrugged.

 

“Great—! I already knew you’d be ready, after all humans are always ready, although I didn’t expect humans to pause so much when talking, but it’s alright! I understand that like pokémon, you guys are also different from each other. Oh, and don’t worry, where we’re going isn’t that far… It’s just the Leaky Meadow! It’s close to here, and it’s pretty easy— even though it’s just picking up an item, we should have done something more hard and cool…” he folded his arms, with a frustrated snort.

 

He gulped—the very thought of something more dangerous chilled his blood. “M-Maybe… something simple to start with, uhm…” he didn’t wish to contradict him either. “I mean… t-to warm up? Is good?”

 

Conlogy hummed, and nodded vigorously. “…You’re right! Yes, you are— warming up is always good, or at least I think so!” as he strolled, his bag swayed lightly; gently tapping his chest with the leather. “Do you have any questions? Although we have all the way to talk, we haven’t even left the village yet— although we’ll be out soon, do you see there?” he pointed towards the horizon—ignoring the people, a few meters away there seemed to be a second road branching off to the left, leading past the houses.

 

“Umh…” — Thousands of questions swirled around in his poor brain, but there was really one that was pressing like an anvil weighing hundreds of tons. “Y-You think… it’ll be too hard?” he rasped, throat tight from just envisioning a negative answer.

 

“Ah?” Conlogy tilted his head to one side, then his eyebrows rose to his forehead. “Oh— don’t worry, human! It may be a little tough, because it’s your first time… but there’s the two of us, and in company, in an easy dungeon, there’s nothing impossible. Or so I think because we’ve never acted together, but— well, we’re already a team, so I trust you!”

 

Terrible decision. “I… umh…”

 

“Look, we’re almost at the crossroads!” The ralts’ gait hurried, rushing ahead of the abra as he pointed forward. “Come on, let’s go, we’re already leaving Arcella Town!”

 

He could hardly keep up with him, but this time he didn’t trip over his own feet. Instead of muttering a word, he decided it was his destiny to accept where Conlogy was leading him.

 

After all, surely where they were departing to wasn’t far off.

 

Right?

---

His bones howled in agony.

By that point, it was less wailing in grief, but rather similar to the whimpers of torment—thorns and stabbing needles coursing through every nerve every time a joint and cartilage made the bold mistake of moving a few inches. The pangs were not only physical, but mental at such a point—scraping both flesh from his muscles and the ramparts of his ego, eroding his psyche. The searing burn enveloped him everywhere, from his brow covered in sweat, to his reddened knees and soles, to the cream color of his muzzle now sharing his skin tone. The sun’s rays did not aid in such an agonizing journey, where his sinews tore with every footstep, where every second was seized by the heat.

 

The dripping dampness of his form did not contribute to the sensation of being wrapped in a hot, gluey blanket, sinking him against the floor, disgusting as well as smelly—drops of that sweat trickling down from his temples to his jaw, leaving a trail on the path of burning earth on which his feet rested. Yet at that moment, rather than the ground, it felt like embers on which his soles walked just as bitterly as the star that mocked him every minute this torture prolonged. Oxygen was rending his esophagus, and the heartbeat was threatening to shatter his brittle ribs.

 

He breathed in gasps, in a vain attempt to relieve the intense sharpness in his knees. The soul threatened to slip out of his body with each exhalation, returning inward with each inhalation.

 

Conlogy, on the contrary, had a much steadier gait, leading the way forward. His breath barely ragged, his legs barely faltered in his stride, sweat trickled down his body but it didn’t leave him looking like a bloated ball of meat wrapped in a thick sauce of disgust. 

 

He couldn’t refrain from gawking, jaw dropped, at the ralts—watching his capacity to continue on for hours with barely a hint of fatigue was a stark reminder that every creature in this world could annihilate him without the slightest complication; that he could only be grateful to have one by his side. So utterly at loss he was, he ended up stumbling against a rock in the road—gravity did its job, causing him to tumble face-first into the ground; kicking up dirt which flew up his nose. The rough sensation of incandescent particles coated from his stomach to his muzzle, but instead he received the gift that was the pang on the soles of his feet—the positive one, which relieved with pleasant pain all his afflictions. 

 

Replying to the thud, Conlogy spun on his heels to approach him. “Human, come on, we’re almost there! You can’t give up, even though I know you’re tired— I can tell!” he crouched down to grab his arm, pulling hard with the full weight of his body. “Though I don’t know why— if we’ve only walked four hours—” he continued to tug.

 

He barely managed to lift his head with the weakness his bones carried—the backlit figure of the ralts loomed above him, like a grim reminder of the obvious disadvantage he was at just by existing. In this world. It was better to consider how they had walked four hours, how that explained his anguish. Being a bounty hunter would not drive him to his grave, but this would. 

 

He dropped his skull, ready to drift down into eternal sleep—he didn’t even care that his forehead hit the floor roughly. He groaned, closing his eyes, “I can’t anymore… no…” he muttered, voice cracking.

 

Conlogy pulled harder—probably the pain following the cartilage in his small arms. He propped his feet on the ground, heels digging tenuously into the earth. “No, you’re not giving up, we’re so close now!” he clenched his teeth, forcibly moving Felix a few inches. 

 

He groaned louder, without bothering to even attempt the effort of swinging his arms in order to push away the one who tried to yank him away from the repose of his long wanderings. Even if the earth was incandescent like the sun, it was still more pleasant than the mere notion of continuing to walk. The star in the firmament could roast him, and he still would not budge.

 

…Being burned alive would only bring more pain for him later.

 

He clenched his teeth, and straining his knees while pressing his palms on the floor, he lifted himself off the ground. “…Al… Alright…” he yielded, the sudden twinge in his knees causing him to exhale sharply through his teeth. 

 

“Ah— that’s a quick change of mind— but I’m glad! I thought I was going to have to drag you into the dungeon, and that wouldn’t have been nice for me— for you either, I don’t think you’d like being dragged through the hot ground, though maybe you do, I don’t know, you like it?” he shrugged. He sketched a smile, “but whatever, let’s keep going!” he turned to lead the way once more. “Come on, we’re almost there! We’re almost in the forest.”

 

He took a deep breath, almost limping to follow the pace. “Why… why… is it called…?” he gasped, unable to stop his heavy breathing. “Leaky… Meadow…? I-it’s… a… forest…”

 

“Oh, that’s because it leads up to the Holey Meadow, so this is the Leaky Meadow— it’s also because inside it’s more similar to a meadow… although…” he hummed, bringing a hand to his chin. “Actually none of the dungeons look like a meadow, so I don’t know what whoever named them was thinking— ah, look, the forest!” he pointed ahead. A lush woodland loomed on the horizon, the verdant blurs now towering trunks filled with tranquil leaves.

 

It seemed that the ralts held his same doubts, but he decided not to continue to dwell on them and just followed. “So… there… shall we… go?” the destination was at his fingertips, with its foliage undulating in the breeze; almost like a hypnotic dance, one he was unable to appreciate in his exhaustion.

 

Conlogy nodded, “yes! We just have to go a little way in and we’ll find the entrance— you’ll know when you see it,” he quickened his pace.

 

He tried to follow the rhythm, but a single twinge in all his joints was enough to give up on the idea.

 

They kept moving forward, now with the comfortable silence that Felix couldn’t but be grateful within himself—talking occupied more of his sacred and so scarce stamina, further that now his muzzle possessed the exclusive job of bringing oxygen to his lungs.

 

Even to the ralts the journey seemed arduous, as he soon slowed his gait, keeping his mouth shut for the remainder of the trip. It was a harsh contrast compared to how the rest of the journey unfolded, where he questioned things that Felix was unable to explain; both because of his fatigue and his amnesia.

 

A few minutes later it was when they set foot in the middle of the woods. His gaze wandered back and forth, from the long worms that dwelled in the leafy canopies, to the plants with limbs and eyes. A drop of water fell on his head, and looking up, he beheld the waving of the big red apples. He recalled how they hadn’t eaten anything on the way. 

 

“Finally!” Conlogy exclaimed, stopping his walk in his tracks—his voice carrying a raspy undertone.

 

Felix approached at his own pace-but looking ahead, the trees were all still the same, no meadow opening to be found. Not until he lowered his gaze, peering down to the ground, that he found what —apparently—- they were looking for.

 

Concrete stairs. 

 

Sunk into the ground, only a few steps leading to no particular path, but to a dark abyss. 

 

…

 

What.

 

“Here, human!” he took a sideways step to avoid getting between Felix and the staircase. “See, these are dungeon stairs— I’ll explain because you don’t know, but these lead up to mystery dungeons; like the Leaky Meadow, the place we’re going, and once we get in, we can’t get out until we finish the mission, or get to the end of the dungeon, or use an escape orb— and I don’t have any of those, so…” he fell silent, then hurried down a single stair step; still not stepping into the shadow pitch-black. “So we’re left with just doing the mission, let’s go!” 

 

…That didn’t explain anything. It didn’t explain why stairs which clearly led to nothing would direct them to a meadow—a subterranean one, to heighten the absurdity, let alone why they couldn’t just turn around and return the way they’d originally come. But the most jaw-dropping aspect was the concrete stairs—someone would surely have had to built them, but for what, or why, was beyond him.

 

Conlogy descended yet another step, turning his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, what are you waiting for?” he asked, going down another, only a few feet away from reaching the bottom of the stairs. “If you come in too late we’ll end up in two different dungeons— and then you wouldn’t do the mission, nor would I be able to explain the dungeons to you, and that would be bad.”

 

He didn’t wish to tempt fate, so he shook his head, “oh— a-alright—” and hurried to make way inside the staircase, behind the ralts; which took one last step.

 

In doing so, as he stepped into what seemed to be infinite darkness, he disappeared.

 

It took a second to process—but when he did, he stepped back with eyes wide as saucers and eyebrows arched upward. The rending sensation in his chest twisted mischievously, threatening to make him turn and flee. But a misstep sent him forward by accident, entering the darkness—

 

The next thing he knew, a blazing glow enveloped him, blinded him, and he was unable to return.