Chapter 5 — Part 2: Town 9

At that instant, the prospect of collapsing and permitting his body to turn to ash, blown away by the breeze like dust, seemed not as terrible as it had been at the beginning of the hellish periplus that the three of them had been going through. Behind his knees the fiery pang like the sun coursed through his nerves like a horrible infection. His heart throbbed as if it would burst out of his chest, arch his ribs outward, shatter his sternum and air-deprived lungs like deflated balloons. Sweat trickled down from his temples to his jaw, leaving a trail wherever he went«the soft green dew down his feet; tickling his soles, he was unable to lighten the situation that afflicted his body with the worst of tortures.

 

It worsened as he became aware of how his two companions —both walking further ahead of him— were able to keep pace without the greatest of complications. Conlogy, though with sweaty hair draped over his face and heavy breathing, still had the ability to keep pace without slowing down at any instant, with a smile on his face. The linoone did not seem to shed a drop of sweat—although that could be due to the cinnamon fur that protected his complexion from the sun’s rays. 

 

On either flank, the trees towered high like unreachable pylons; with the leaves of the leafy canopies rippled by the soft zephyr—absorbing the scorching rays with their green. Moisture infused the air —unlike the path they had taken before, arid as desert and hot as volcanic soil— with a sweet tang in contrast to the sun’s rays descending upon them, with the scent of earth and wet grass. The large caterpillars roamed the trunks of the trees, perched on their branches, and from time to time they saw people passing through the woods. 

 

The ferret swiveled his head sideways, with a tight grip on the leather strap that crossed across his chest to under his left armpit. “We should be near…” he commented, the bag brushing against the refreshing pasture. “I’ve been here a few times— it’s nice, to relax my head for a little.”

 

…Something struck him as odd about that statement, but he was unable to pinpoint what. Now that he pondered it, Felix couldn’t help but wonder about the high knowledge the ferret; a self-proclaimed foreigner, had about the region. Although, perhaps, he was only overthinking an imaginary problem. It must have been the heat. 

 

Conlogy nodded, advancing to the linoone’s side. He hummed, “Sir, I agree— this is a very nice forest! I actually first visited here once a few seasons ago— before Strivete joined the crew—”

 

“Strivete, the prodigy?”

 

Conlogy was hushed for a moment, and crossed his arms. “…Yes, the prodigy,” he grumbled softly. He shook his head and cleared his throat, sketching a smile—though there was a forced tinge to this one. “But yes, before Strivete joined—!” his eyes lit up, letting out a choked gasp. “Sir, sir— and Felix, too! Did you know that this was where Farfrou found the remnants of the human double spine and found the archaeological remnants of The Hypothesis? What’s more— even Bowost recognized the huge gold mine— well, not literally gold, but in archaeological discoveries—! But what I mean is… here on the Sand Continent are a lot of remains of human civilization!” he rambled, bright expression—his tone mimicking his gaze. “Can you imagine what it must have been like to live in this forest— for humans? How, for example— what structures did they have? How did they live? Was Bowost right and were they in some mineral-rich subway tunnels—?”

 

A forceful cough interrupted him 

 

As Conlogy turned toward the source, he was gazed back at by the linoone—with wide, clouded eyes, fixed on him. The ralts shrunk down, averting his gaze elsewhere. “Ah— sorry, did I ramble again? I didn’t mean to—”

 

“Oh— no, no, no, no, no,” the ferret denied with his paws, showing his padded palms. “It’s alright— I just… I wasn’t expecting that, but it’s no problem, really,” he looked sideways, his eyes bleeding with longing. “I was thinking more…” the breeze ruffled his fur, brushing against his skin, “about when I used to run around here, when I was younger. On the land, in the woods…” he sighed.

 

Conlogy’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you lived here as a kid?”

 

The linoone mimicked the gesture, his body tensing. “Ah—” he cleared his throat. “Yes— yes, of course. Didn’t I mention it before?” he cracked a smile, some trembling at the corners of his mouth.

 

Watching the conversation silently —more focused on not collapsing from exhaustion— and following the two from behind, Felix couldn’t help but shudder. A bitter aftertaste was present on his palate that did not abandon him, instead it only became more pronounced the more the conversation progressed. He narrowed his eyes…

 

But he merely kept silent. They were his imaginings—of that he was fully aware. And even if the rumbling feeling that tore from inside his chest were right, there was no way he could utter it aloud—it was too risky to say, and he already knew what the best strategy was.

 

So he applied it, and continued.

 

“Oh, look—” the ferret stepped forward to the ralts, “I think it’s this way…” he murmured, rummaging through some tall bushes stained by the dew of dampness in the air. He quirked a smile, pushing aside the brush—revealing concrete stairs, sunken and destined for an infinite abyss of pure blackness. “Yes, they’re right here—! My memory didn’t fail me this time, but here it is.” 

 

“Ah— nice!” Conlogy hurried, to the opposite side of the linoone. “Well done, sir! You seem to know the way very well— I’m glad to have you with us!”

 

He sighed, “no need to be so kind, it’s nothing…” he cocked his head, and turned his gaze toward the endless gloom. “We should go inside. Quick, good people,” with ease he dragged his thin, long body, descending into the shadow—which he mimicked, becoming one with the darkness. 

 

“Ah— yes, let’s go!” Conlogy descended a step, skimming the abyss. “Come on, let’s go, Felix,” he gestured snappily with his free hand, urging him to follow in his footsteps, “I know you’re getting tired— it’s showing on your face, but it’s time to fight! Or I hope not, that would be nice, but I don’t think we’ll be so lucky—” his words were interrupted once he disappeared.

 

He walked down some steps, confronting the obscurity.

 

…

 

He took a deep breath. The air pressing against his bones. The smell of earth and dew would be supplanted by the wet thuds of blows and rocks impacting against skin—by copper in his mouth, by metal permeating the air. He was not ready, never would be. But though his legs trembled, he could not stay behind—not in this cruel world where he had ended up.

 

He descended.

 

The light encompassed his senses—blinded every bit of his sight until it left nothing but pure white like snow, like an eternal blizzard. Like being a light feather lost in outer space, like no more than a speck of dust in the infinite cosmos. To be one with nothingness, with the impossible.

 

And when he opened his eyes—

 

“Watch out, Felix—!”

 

Heat spread across his muzzle—the heart-like thrumming made its presence known as it took rein of his nerves as if it were the only thing important to his senses. He staggered back, instinctively bringing his hands to his mouth. It was there that he sensed the liquid gushing; in tiny droplets, over his upper lip. It all took barely a second, before he could even regain his vision—just the blurred figures of light moving swiftly. 

 

He blinked, tasting the copper with his tongue. As the world shifted colors, he was met with the sight of Conlogy —his back brushing the wall to his right, directly next to the entrance to a hallway shrouded in dungeon mist— staring at the monster in the middle of the room: a brown-bodied sauropod with palm fronds covering its head, sprouting from its back, the bananas on its chin waving from the sudden movement. Its milky eyes; bright as lights in a dark night, were locked on the abra.

He got attacked by a razor leaf suddenly in the mouth, upper the lip. He covered his mouth with his hands. As the world shifted colors, he was met with the sight of Conlogy —his back brushing the wall to his right, directly next to the entrance to a hallway shrouded in dungeon mist— staring at the monster in the middle of the room: a brown-bodied sauropod with palm fronds covering its head, sprouting from its back, the bananas on its chin waving from the sudden movement. Its milky eyes; bright as lights in a dark night, were locked on the abra.

His heart skipped a beat—with just a glance his weak soul was fulminated, feeling all the blood in his body freeze like the arctic. He was helpless to control the trembling in his bones, the bile rising in his throat to intermingle with the copper on the end of his tongue. The wet, hot sensation on his face didn’t help.

 

In a single throb the sauropod roared, lowering its long neck to mimic his height—even with its colossal size, it was able to point the top of its skull at his stomach and begin to run; like a primal, savage beast to deliver a headbutt.

 

Felix’s mouth opened to emit a shriek—

 

The flash —the pink blur— flew at the beast, striking its temple. It stumbled to the left, but turned its gaze to look at the ralts, which stood with his hand in the air and his breathing ragged. The sauropod easily recovered, setting its feet on the ground and letting out another deafening roar —which rattled Felix’s bones— before rushing at Conlogy.

 

Which had no time to react, unleashing a screech as the colossal sole hovered over him.

 

“Conlogy—!” his shout was cut short by the much louder—sharper, agonized yell.

 

The thud originated from the mighty stomp that rumbled the ground. Conlogy writhed under the formidable force that put pressure on his entire frame, wiggling his limbs and struggling as best he could to extend his hand to point it at the rock.

 

In a throbbing, Felix tried to swing his hand to aim at the same spot.

 

But his limbs weighed more than millions of tons.

 

His heart was about to burst in his ribs. But he didn’t move an inch—he was unable to even breathe, the air stuck in his throat, just like the lump between his chest, unable to be swallowed. 

 

Another squeal was uttered by Conlogy as the power crushing him rose only a couple of inches, only to descend upon him once more.

 

He was powerless. He lacked oxygen. His muzzle was throbbing. His breathing was faster than a bullet.

 

Another stomp—another thunderous scream filled his ears. 

 

He couldn’t breathe. His eyes searched frantically; something that might save the ralts, something that might make him capable of moving his paralyzed muscles. He found only the ferret, cowering and hiding inside the hallway where Conlogy had been moments ago.

 

By a miracle, when the sauropod elevated its leg, Conlogy slipped away like a rocket—crawling with her arms to escape. The stomp only kicked up dirt and dust from where they were standing, creating a cloud of brown which the ralts took advantage of to flee—coughing. 

 

With another roar, the dinosaur spun its body in a frenzy, searching with its white eyes—but before it could react, a pink bullet-like blur slammed into its eye. It plunged into its socket, causing a wet blast-like sound—accompanied by its resounding howl. It staggered backwards, being slammed down once by a pebble shrouded by a colored aura. Its cry was more shattering, cutting through the air of the entire room with its volume. 

 

“Take that—!” Conlogy exclaimed, his arm upraised and gesturing with these, snapping movements that could barely keep up with the rhythm of the boulder. Like a conductor, managing the course of something smaller than the palm of his hand. But he was unable to match the pace, and staggered, lowering his arm. He grabbed his own limb with the other, wincing in pain. “I can’t— Felix— do something!” he recoiled, taking distance.

 

He could still feel his heart hammering in his ribs with each throb, on the verge of bursting. But those words caused lightness in his muscles, enabling him to at least wiggle his fingers. He nodded, sweat trickling down his forehead, staining the slash above his mouth. He raised his trembling arm, pointing toward the pebble.

 

He attempted to imagine.

 

His fingers twitched. Nothing happened.

 

His eyes met the beast’s.

 

“Felix— c-calm down— otherwise you can’t use psychic powers—!” the horn of Conlogy glowed brightly, only to lose all its glow in a flash.

 

He brought a hand up to his own chest, feeling the bandage around it with his fingertips. The smooth texture relaxed his heart, but nothing could quell his quick breath—palpitate in his throat, bile rising. He tasted the copper. His vision blurred…

 

The sauropod rumbled, swinging its head and rushing toward him.

 

His heart lurched, but his hand was engulfed in the pink aura—ondulating with the strong zephyr that swept across the earth, raising a cloud of dust between them.

 

The rock soared into the air, moving madly. The first strike was to the temple. He wiggled his fingers with dexterity—the second impact was on the forehead, then on the cheek, striking on the leaves and then on the muzzle. With each jab it roared louder, the pebble cutting into its skin—blood spurted from the small gashes on its face, recoiling and staggering to the opposite side from where the swift impacts came from. 

 

The sauropod swung its wings—the strong air sweeping across its path. The breeze sliced through his skin, causing him to stumble and fall on his posterior. Felix shrieked, crushing his own tail—the aura leaving his limb. That was when he choked on his own spitè—when he looked up and saw the large sole of the foot, bigger than his head, rise above him.

 

“Felix—!”

 

He felt his body light—gravity dragged him with unearthly force to the side, dodging the stomp that produced the cracking of the earth where he’d been sitting just moments ago; the crevices reaching all the way up to him. Within a second was when his mind processed how he was cloaked in a pink aura, this one enveloping his body completely—but that counter-current energy to gravity released him immediately. He shot a glance at Conlogy….

 

Seeing how he lowered his arm, breathing as if he had run a marathon. His body was hunched over, with clear bruises forming on his head and trunk, the crimson contrasting with the white of his body, stained by dust and scratches. “Hey— mess with someone your own size—!” he exclaimed, “though that wouldn’t be with me, but with someone bigger— but whatever! Leave Felix alone!” 

 

It didn’t respond, just snarling once more, pouncing on the ralts. 

 

It was as if the world froze.

 

He had to do something, or else Conlogy would be mauled once more. The flash of the screams drilling into his eardrums caused the shiver to run through every inch of his body, his soul. 

 

Heat pooled in his fingertips.

Blood flowed to the end of his limbs—it was as if time had stopped, as if color had been washed from his sight, just for a mere instant.

 

With a gasp, a purple wave formed in front of his forehead—and shot out toward the sauropod.

 

It struck its back—and with a roar of pain, it staggered forward, its feet confused as it stomped and stumbled over its own legs, until finally, with a final shriek, its body collapsed; kicking up the dirt and rock around it.

 

He wiped over his muzzle with his hand. He felt the warm fluid seep between his fingers. It was red, drenching his digits. By the time he wanted to realize it, the world was spinning around him, like a dizzying combination of colors.

 

Conlogy panted, leaning his back against the wall behind him—now on the opposite side from where he had appeared, on the flank of a different entrance to the left. He clutched his chest, breathing hard. “Haaah… Haaah… Haaah…!” paralyzed, the world seemed to go slow for both of them. But instead it was the ralts who shook his head, running towards the abra. “Felix you did it— y-you’re fine— you even used confusion!” he inhaled sharply. “I thought the tropius was going to step on you but— but I moved you in time— you’re actually lighter than I expected but still—”

 

“I’m so sorry!” Felix interjected—his emotions leaking from his throat like a deluge ravaging the dam that was his closed throat. That worm squirmed and ripped inside him, like a black tar pit. “I—” the words slit his throat, unable to convey what he intended to tell, the apologies he wanted to give having watched helplessly—observing the bruises on his body. “I…” he fell silent, and lowered his head. He clenched his fists, averting his gaze toward…

 

The linoone, who emerged with slow feet out of the corridor where he had been hiding. He barely peeked out, only his head visible from the fog. 

 

“Y-You…”

 

“You!” when the ralts laid his eyes on him, he rushed—invading his personal space. “Are you alright—!? Where were you!?” he frowned, his tone taking on a sharper tinge. “You could have helped—!” that’s when his eyebrows arched upward. “Wait— wait… you were scared? Is that it? Is that why you didn’t do anything?” he cocked his head to the side.

 

“I-I—” the ferret stepped back, gripping the leather strap tightly around his abdomen.

 

“Alright, you were— sorry to assume, I—” Conlogy gestured with his hands, but interrupted himself with a slap to his own forehead. “Sorry— it was dumb of me— I’m sorry— sir!” he backed away.

 

The linoone raised his hands, showing his palms, with which he denied. “N-No— no, don’t apologize, please! I-I just…” his claws sank into the leather. “I just… I freeze— I’m not used to it, I…” he gulped, averting his gaze. “I’m so sorry, I should have helped.”

 

The throbbing in his body, in his back and rear were nothing compared to the burning in his muzzle—warm and wet. But even that could not be as aching as the thorn found in his heart. There was something so familiar about the nuance in the ferret’s voice that it was impossible to ignore. It was bitter, like the taste of copper on his tongue. “Umh—” he took a deep breath, covering the cut on his upper lip with his fingers —it stung with just the touch— before replying, “i-it doesn’t matter, it’s fine, uh, sir…” he was no one to judge, not after how he had acted.

 

“Yes, really— no worries, sir! And sorry for assuming bad things ahead of time!” Conlogy drew in a deep breath, clicking his tongue before turning on his heel toward the upper left corner of the room. “But well, let’s go—!” he interrupted himself as his gaze fell on a round red-colored item. “Ohhh, a tiny apple—” he ran to grab it. He motioned to stuff it into the bag hanging from his trunk, but there was nothing but air. His hand jerked before he realized, “ah— right, I forgot the satchel—” he frowned.

 

“…Y-You don’t have anything on you, do you?” the ferret asked, walking to stand near the ralts.

 

Conlogy shook his head, “Exactly— well, no, not, not exactly, because—” he plunged a hand into his scalp, rummaging around for a few moments before pulling out a tiny pouch—smaller than his own palm, which jingled as it was shaken. “Because I carry this with me— always! It’s gold!” he shook it; Felix fixing his gaze on the leather, “you never know when you need some gold, and I don’t always carry my satchel, so it’s always good to bring some gold— like that story where an explorer didn’t carry any and so he couldn’t go to a tavern, so he went to a dungeon and got eaten by ferals— but he survived! So I always carry some gold,” he turned to the abra. “Ain’t that a great idea, Felix?” he grinned.

 

“Ah- y-y-yes,” he brought a hand to the base of his neck, squeezing it lightly. “I-I guess it is,” his gaze went to the linoone.

 

Which had his eyes locked on the leather of the tiny sack. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

 

He blinked, and cleared his throat. “B-By the way, I think we, uh, should… g-go on,” he gulped, giving a furtive glance toward the four corridors in the square room—where the green grass tickled the soles of his feet, where the moss-covered walls towered high into the sky, covered by canopies of trees growing on an impossible horizon. “I wouldn’t want to… uh, stay… m-more time than n-necessary.”

 

Conlogy nodded, “And we won’t, don’t worry—! It wouldn’t be a good idea either, considering we don’t carry our badges…” he hummed. “Oh, but nothing bad is going to happen to us, so don’t despair, Felix!”

 

His heart sank in his chest.

 

“And now…” he pointed straight ahead, to the north corridor. “Let’s go get that Charme-claw—!” he turned his head to the linoone standing next to him, “it was a Charme-claw, right? I may have forgotten—”

 

The ferret nodded.

 

“Alright, good—” he turned his gaze back to the front. “Let’s go get that Charme-claw!” he started marching toward the mist, giving way into it. “I’m sure your friend will be happy, sir.”

 

The linoone hummed, “y-yes, I’m sure… yeah.”

 

Moving forward in line —Conlogy leading the way— the three progressed into the first floor of the dungeon. Felix glanced sideways and back. If he had fur, his hairs would be standing on end. With every breath his body sent a twinge in the nerves in his mouth and rear. Moss and mist enveloped his every step…

 

“Wait— move back!” the high-pitched voice guiding them shouted, taking a step in reverse—bumping his back against the ferret’s muzzle in the process, “there’s an enemy here—!” his voice was interrupted by a shriek. From Felix’s perspective it was complicated to witness, but the sight of a purple needle being shot towards the ralts forehead was unmistakable, like a violet blur. 

 

Felix retreated, emerging from the passageway—but not the ferret, which rose still, not budging an inch.

 

Now he could discern the enemy on the other side of the corridor more clearly: it was a larva with a spherical, beige, segmented body and a distinctive pink nose on its big head, with a tiny horn glowing with a lilac light. It crawled forward, and its horn detached itself, shooting forward —and being replaced by a new one, which promptly grew— penetrating Conlogy’s skin.

 

“H-Hey— get back! Fighting in a hallway is hard—!” he was cut short by another squeal, which increased in intensity. He brought his hands to his forehead, shielding his body with the back of them, as he cringed.

 

“Ah— I’m sorry—!” the ferret shrieked, but even his feet made no attempt to move. 

 

He felt a distinctive itch—the one that prompted him to dig his fingers into the tail of the one who stood obstructing the way, to tug at him with all the strength of his poor arms. But his limbs weighed—more than was feasible, breaking the limit of the tons they could accumulate. He stepped back, praying that the linoone would do the same.

 

“Ah— I think— aw— I see a rock—!” Conlogy cried out, ahead of them, and extended his arm to aim toward the next room. His limb was covered by an aura and with a sharp motion toward himself, the pebble darted out to hover toward him—on its way hitting the back of the insect’s head. With a spinning motion, the stone changed trajectory to impact against its nose, causing gravity to drag its enemy to the center of the room. “Alright— everyone, go forward!” the ralts rushed, taking up position near the larva.

 

But the linoone continued to stand still.

 

“C-Can you—?” he urgently asked, his fingers twitching with the desire to push him, but his throat closing up just from the thought. He leaned to the side, watching as another pink blur shot across the room just like a bullet, leaving the zephyr in its path. He could hear the gasps, more squeals. His breathing quickened, “p-please—” 

 

That’s when the ferret darted forward, stationed next to the corridor exit. Felix ran into the room, looking frenziedly for another item to throw—finding another stone in the right corner of the room. He ignored Conlogy’s loud panting, raising his arm to take aim, and with a sharp blur—

 

Gray slammed into the insect’s nose, which, with the impact finishing off the back of its neck, writhed on the floor before its eyes lost color. 

 

Heavy breathing —mostly from the ralts— filled the silence that reigned in the room.

 

In an instant, Conlogy staggered backward, threatening to lose his balance. He inhaled deeply, the air rushing in through his teeth sharply, “Ah— T-Thank you, Felix!” he clutched his chest, wiping his nose with his other hand. But before the abra could think of replying, the ralts turned on his heels toward the linoone—frowning, “Hey— you did it again!” he exclaimed, stomping loudly toward him.

 

The linoone’s hair rose on end, “I-I—!” he allowed his head to drop, and looked away. “I- I— I’m so sorry!” he bowed with his whole body, controlling his trembling—causing softening in Conlogy’s gaze. “I really didn’t know what to do, I—” he motioned with his hands in a lost gesture, “I froze, I didn’t know— I thought about— I know I’m a burden but—”  

 

It was painful to watch. “I-It’s alright,” Felix interjected, earning a look from both of them. He cringed, resting his eyes in the opposite direction. “I-I mean— umh…” he was no one to judge, “I-I mean, uh, I…” he sighed, and looked back at the ralts. “D-Don’t you think it would be better to… c-continue?”

 

He returned his stare, his shoulders dropping a few inches. He sighed, “you’re right, Felix…” he turned his head toward the ferret. “Sorry, sir… it was rude of me— again— of course you’re scared, you’re not used to fighting— I should have known, and there’s nothing wrong with that—” he shrank back, “sorry.”

 

“No— I understand, don’t worry… I don’t blame you,” with those words, silence settled between them again, weighing like the scent of earth and grass coming from the mossy walls.

 

Soon Conlogy spun toward the upper left corner of the room—where a gleaming pile of gold, coins in a large amount, lay near both walls. “Oh, gold—!” he dashed, ignoring the object nearest the center —embracing the start of the right passageway, the other exit from the room— which was a transparent green-lidded flask with a brown liquid flowing inside. 

 

As the ralts’s hand hovered over the gold, another paw interrupted its path—it was the furry one of the linoone, which stood beside it, having rushed toward the glittering wealth. He blinked, and drew his hand away as the red eyes fixed on him, “ah— sorry—” he rubbed the back of his paw with his claws, “it’s a habit, excuse me. Here.”

 

Conlogy tilted his head, “a habit—? Ah, no, but don’t worry! Who wouldn’t react like that at the sight of a pile of gold? I think your reaction is quite normal, sir, there’s nothing wrong with it, I react like that too, I think” he sketched a slight smile, pulling the sack out of his hair to deposit the new riches inside. After that he stood up, straightening his back to face the abra, “Felix!”

 

He startled at the call, “a-ah— wh-what?”

 

“Go grab the elixir— the one in the corner!”

 

He didn’t see the point of being him, but complied with the order, “a-alright,” he walked to the right, passing by the entrance to the hallway. He bent down —feeling a twinge behind his knees— to catch the glass between his fingers. He glanced inside, noting the brown liquid.

 

“Alright— now drink it—! Well, open it and then you drink it.”

 

…

 

He blinked, raising his gaze. His eyebrows shot up to his forehead. “Ah—? No—” he gaped, a sensation tingling in his throat, causing him to arch his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t… Wouldn’t you, uh, rather take it, better?” a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “You’ve, uh… made, well,” he fiddled with the vial, “more stuff, so…”

 

Conlogy shook his head, “no— don’t worry!” he clutched his left side with his opposite hand, pressing against a bruise. “I’m fine, really!” he breathed sharply, “besides… you’ve done things too, things you’re not used to, besides! So no, you need that elixir more than I do.” 

 

He eyed the bruises.

 

He gulped and cringed. “I-I…” he relented, “alright…” he deflated, opening —with difficulty— the bottle, taking the whiff of its scent: sweet as honey, sour as lemon. He wrinkled his muzzle. “A-Alright, then…” he brought the rim to his lips, and drank it in one swig. It had just the slightest bitter aftertaste, like a medicinal herb. As he felt the warmth go down his throat, it was as if the heaviness in his bones vanished with an inhalation, as if his senses became clearer, now free of the haze. 

 

A second passed before he dropped the flask, which rolled to his feet. “Good! Ready? I take it you’re done with it— I mean, you wouldn’t have dropped it otherwise, so…” Conlogy took a deep breath, and turned to his right, facing the corridor to the left of the room; at least from the perspective of where they had entered. “Well, then— let’s continue!” he pointed with his hand, clicking his tongue, and exited the room.

 

Actually, the best strategy and formation was for the ferret to be behind them, considering how the previous encounters had played out—but before he could say anything, the linoone was already following the ralts closely. Felix gritted his teeth, walking last.

 

The silence was disrupted by the steady clicking of a tongue. Repetitive.

 

As they reached the next room, what stood out most was the red sphere resting on the floor, with its brown stem—it was an apple, right next to the stairs sunk into the grass. 

 

“Well— that’s our lucky break! There’s even a tiny apple!” Conlogy pumped his fist, rushing toward the fruit resting on the lawn. He bent down, flashing a smile —it conflicted with the slight purple tint that began to form in his eye— as he held the pome in his hands, “we haven’t had lunch, so— I hope you don’t mind!” he opened his mouth, taking a big bite. He chewed, straightening his back.

 

His eyes tracked the motion of the water dripping from the juicy inside of the apple. He felt the saliva pool under his tongue. He gulped—it was better that the ralts had a bite before anyone else, he could wait until they found another.

 

The linoone approached towards the stairs, peeking his head up to look down from above. “Uh… by the way,” he spoke, not setting foot to descend. “Are you… are you sure you want to continue, right now? You could— I mean, we could… well, try to find more things, like an oran berry, or…” he trailed off, words hanging in the air unfinished. 

 

Conlogy stared at him, taking another bite, but suddenly— his horn glowed with a blinding glare. As soon as that happened, his eyes snapped wide, and he stood with his mouth open, “oh—” he swallowed the piece of apple inside his mouth. “Ohh! Sir, don’t worry!” he shook his head, “we don’t need any more gold— or any reward— you don’t have to help us with that!” a beat of silence. “…Ah—! Sorry, I read your thoughts without asking—!”

 

“N-No, it’s alright—!” the ferret startled, goosebumps rising on his fur. “I— uhhh…” he fiddled with his digits, then scratched the base of his neck. “I, uh, umh. I mean— I had just assumed that I could, well, like you said…” he looked lost, and took a deep breath. “But you’re right, we’d better move forward,” he took a side step.

 

Conlogy nodded, “Yes! The faster the better for us,” he descended one of the steps, “at least in a dungeon— in this one, I mean, and all the others,” and disappeared.

 

“…Y-Yes, you are right,” the linoone soon faded into the gloom.

 

Only the abra was left there, which stood for a few moments—similar to a dazed state. The abyss looked back at him…

 

…

 

He gulped, and went down. Light enveloped his consciousness. He rode the clouds before dropping back down to earth.

 

When he blinked and the light made passage through his closed eyelids, the lingering figures traced a long room in which the three of them now stood. He turned, seeing how to his right —and further back— the exit to a corridor was hidden by fog, resting beside it; leaning against a wall, a round, palm-sized apple. He focused his gaze ahead, noting how Conlogy had already hurried toward a blue-colored berry in the middle of the room—ignoring the other one further to the, in his perspective, right corner, near the exit to another hallway. The linoone merely glanced sideways, one paw on the leather.

 

“Look, Felix— an oran berry! You remember them, right?” the ralts mentioned, lifting the fruit from the ground and turning on his heels to face him. “Come, come,” he approached, bringing the berry up to the abra. “You’re hurt from the battle with the tropius, right? Here— you need it!”

 

There was someone in the room who needed it more than Felix—much more. He gulped, fixing his gaze on the indigo orb resting in the hand that offered it, expectantly. He scratched the base of his neck, “uh—” the words stuck in his throat. He grimaced, and sighed. “I—” 

 

A sigh.

 

He nodded weakly, “o-okey—” his fingers twitched as they made contact with the fruit, but he grabbed it anyway and took a bite. The liquid flowed down his throat like fresh water in the desert, feeling the thirst in his bones being quenched. 

 

Conlogy tilted his head, hand still held in the air. “…Okey? What’s that? Wait—” he blinked. In a single heartbeat, he lunged to grab his shoulders, eyes wide with wildness, “Is— Is that a human expression— or something?!” The glare was chilling.

 

“Human expression? I’ve never heard it— not that I read much of those fairy tales…” the linoone commented, watching from afar with a blank stare.

 

The abra was shaken, feeling goosebumps. “Uh— yes, but—”

 

“It is! I knew it— it sounded like one!” he shook harder, “come on, tell me what it is! Please! Please! Please, come on, tell me!” he pleaded—

 

And was interrupted by the linoone clearing his throat, urgency in his tone. “Uh, I don’t want to… uh, butt in where I’m not needed, but—” he pointed down the hallway to —in his perspective— the right; front corner, of the room. There, out of the mist, a new pokémon emerged rolling: a yellow cocoon with a dome-shaped head and triangular black eyes. It advanced like a wheel, shortening the distance between it and its enemies.

 

Conlogy spun around, placing one leg behind the other and raising his arms to protect himself with his forearms. “Ah— Right, I can ask about human stuff later— now we must fight, Felix— get ready!” he glanced sideways, taking notice of a lone pile of rocks hugging the left wall of the room.

 

Felix was startled to see the pokémon approaching them—his yellow armor sending a shiver down his back. “W-What is that thing—?” he asked, his arms heavy; meanwhile the ralts was already enveloped by the pink aura—as was one of the pebbles, which was shot toward the cocoon.

 

The linoone had stood behind them, protected behind the walls of flesh. “Wait— don’t you know what a kakuna is?” the enemy did not back down from the blows, still advancing toward them.

 

“Ah— sir, my friend is just kind of clueless and sometimes forgets the name of a few species— yeah, it sounds weird, but it’s true, I swear— so don’t worry about him asking obvious questions from time to time—!” he blurted out the words as swiftly as his mouth was capable of saying them, them running over the beginning of the previous one. “Well, not really, I could have picked a better lie, but— watch out!” he failed to visualize the path of another rock, leaping to the side to avoid the insect’s tackle.

 

The one who didn’t sidestep was Felix, who immediately spat out bile and saliva that bubbled in his throat as the cocoon made contact with his belly, sharply. The oxygen in his lungs evaporated in less than a second, as did the strength in his knees—he collapsed, kicking up a cloud of dust that scraped his skin. He covered his belly, and with itchy eyes watched as the cocoon bounced backward, tearing the grass in its slide. The muscles in his abdomen were as tense as those in his arms, which quivered. 

 

He breathed out through his teeth, fighting for precious air—ignoring how the cocoon dug into the earth, and thrust himself toward him once more. His eyes opened wide, opening his mouth to release a choked scream.

 

Which was disrupted by the shattering —like glass breaking— and thunderous sound that followed the millisecond after the stone —wrapped in a pink aura— hit the side of the cocoon, changing its trajectory to the right; flying into a wall and letting out a strange shriek. When it dropped to the floor, it writhed and gurgled a purple liquid before shutting its eyes.

 

Felix continued to kneel, with a low, breathless scream. He barely spared a glance towards Conlogy; still panting with heavy breathing —causing his chest to rise and fall with exaggeration— and who rushed towards him. “Oh, by arceus— that must have hurt—” he tried to touch him, but his hands only hovered over his figure and twitched. “Ah— what am I saying? Of course it did, it was a stupid comment, sorry—” he straightened up; mind enlightened, and ran towards one of the berries in the room, turning back to Felix. “Here— I think you need this, Felix!” his hand lingered.

 

Though he shook his head, his trembling hand reached up to grasp the fruit, which he brought to his weakened lips. He tried to mutter, to protest at the clearly unwise and inefficient decision… but his gut gladly accepted the brown liquid that ran down his throat with its tasteless flavor. He swallowed as he felt the warmth on his face. “T-Thank you…” he couldn’t even raise his eyes from the floor, though his body did.

 

“You’re welcome—!” he interrupted himself mid-sentence, biting his own tongue to swallow a groan of pain. He took a sharp breath, staggering back slightly before turning his head to walk around a corner, “by the way, Felix— you didn’t eat anything on the way here!” he bent down to grab a tiny apple, and trotted back to his partner. “That’s not healthy— eating is important, because it gives you energy, but not elemental— so, here!” 

 

His stomach growled. “T-Thanks— again,” he accepted the food, taking a bite. It was sweet. Like soft caramel dancing on his palate. He munched.

 

Meanwhile, Conlogy paced to the center of the room, taking in the view and bringing his hands to his hips. He stood silently, beside him the linoone, and interrupted the lull with a humming, “sir, do you think it would be a good idea to bring paper and ink to draw a map of the dungeon floors? Not with my foot, obviously, but with my hand— well, my finger, but not exactly my finger, which I don’t have—”

 

“Umh…” the linoone gave him a quizzical look. “I think… well, wouldn’t that be a, uh, weird waste of paper?” he replied in an uncertain tone, scratching the front of his neck. “The floors are random every time, so…”

 

Conlogy clicked his tongue, “Right, right… Right! Maybe it’s not a good method, and paper’s not like it’s cheap, so…” he nodded, but his gaze lit up. “But it would be great for orientation on large floors—! Although, really, there aren’t that many big floors to require making a map, so, well, actually, it’s not as great an idea as I thought…” he hummed.

 

Felix dropped the apple core to the ground—fertilizer for the herbs, may they devour its useless contents and new life be born from them. 

 

The ralts spun to face him, as his arm pointed forward—to the hallway to the right, in his perspective to the left, “Ready, Felix?” he spoke with a lively tone, but of a forced nuance, pulled by the energy horses within him—like a flame fearing to be extinguished. “Come on, then— that we have to go on!” 

 

And so, they began to march. They stepped into the haze that shrouded the corridors as darkness engulfed dreams.

 

As they entered the new room—

 

A pile of gold, and next to it—

 

Felix was startled, his muscles tense and about to raise his hand—

 

The heat made its presence felt on his shoulder. Conlogy put his other hand to his own mouth to barely cover it, shaking his head. “Shhh…” he whispered, pointing toward the caterpillar —a wurmple, he remembered— curled in on itself, snoring softly. “Calm down, Felix— we just don’t have to make noise.” He pointed down the hallway to his left, farther in front, “and we can keep going, alright? Follow my lead—” he began to walk, on tiptoe and very slowly—ignoring the other two aisles to the front, where in between the two slept the insect.

 

He waved his hand inward, and with that, the other two followed as a disorderly line, also tiptoeing along—

 

A crunch.

 

Felix turned, seeing how the linoone —which was walking behind him— had his hind leg on top of a stick resting on the ground, hidden in the undergrowth. “Ah—!” if it hadn’t awakened before, with the scream it was now assured that the wurmple would awaken.

 

And as he feared, so it did—it wriggled, fixing its gaze upon the ralts, which was nearest the entrance to the hallway, and scowled. With a thunderous cry, it opened its mouth; spitting out a white thread which shot toward Conlogy, blanketing his body with the goo.

 

“Ew—!” with his arms he tried to shake off the stickiness that adhered to his skin, the pringue that slowed his movements as it stuck his limbs and armpits to his torso.

 

Seeing what was happening, his gaze darted between the ralts and the caterpillar—his heart began to pump hard in his chest, urging his arm to rise; but the heaviness in his muscles stopped him, frozen. The world moved forward in slow motion as the wurmple spewed once more—this time a purple thorn, dripping with spittle and something else.

 

It jabbed into Conlogy, into his left forearm—his scream was more piercing than expected, a high-pitched shriek, as the purple fluid slid down his white skin until it dripped onto the floor. It was a bitter smell, like decayed lemon, that mingled with the muskiness of the metal. Conlogy glanced up in despair, but there was no rock. “Ah—” he gasped, his eyes wide… but his gaze fell upon the stick resting beneath the linoone’s feet, “that’s—!” he exclaimed, and pointed with his arm.

 

“Wait— Ah—!” the linoone trembled and staggered backwards as the branch beneath him slipped out from under him and flew—

 

Incrusting itself in the skin of the wurmple, which squealed loudly as the wood made contact, for the second after—

 

Felix fell to the ground. A ringing filled his ears—the heat of the explosion engulfed the front of his body with its deafening roar, and when the light was allowed to stop blinding him like a supernova, he witnessed the insect passed out; skin charred, the impact zone smelling of copper.

Felix fell to the ground. A ringing filled his ears—the heat of the explosion engulfed the front of his body with its deafening roar, and when the light was allowed to stop blinding him like a supernova, he witnessed the insect passed out

He put a hand to his chest—felt its throbbing. 

 

But Conlogy didn’t seem good—not good at all. He leaned his back feebly against the wall at the side of the corridor, pulling out the purple thorn with his hand —spraying a thread of crimson— and covering his wound with his opposite limb. He clenched his teeth, gulping down a shriek, “I-I think… I-I think I’m not alright—” he whimpered, the skin on his face taking on a hue similar to the liquid leaking from the spike on the floor. 

 

His eyes opened wide. His breathing quickened, just like his footsteps as he hurried toward the ralts. “Y-You— A-Are you alright?” he asked, his voice trembling, his words swift. His fingers twitched, hovering over the wound hidden by the pale hand. 

 

“He’s poisoned,” the voice over his shoulder commented, “you’ve… you’ve never— you’ve never seen it before?”

 

His breath hitched. “P-Poisoned?!” — he was the cause, and that was capable of stinging his eyes more than any twinge behind his knees, than any shallow breathing, “w-we have to…!” he looked sideways, “we have to look for a-an antidote— or something!” 

 

Conlogy wobbled forward, to rest his free hand —palm drenched in purple— on Felix’s shoulder. “D-Don’t… worry,” his voice was devoid of that inner flame—just ashes, yearning with every ounce to burn again, “I’ll be fine… on the next floor, r-really, trust me,” he dropped the weight of his body back against the wall, his little legs trembling. “Let’s… let’s go…” he tried to spin around, his arms weakly gripping the wall. 

 

He heard the sound of clinking metal behind him, but didn’t even bother to turn, following closely behind the one who entered the passageway, with slow, shuffling steps. After a few seconds it was when he heard soft footsteps coming from behind him. 

 

When they reached the next room and the haze dissipated like on a summer day, he spotted the shriek before the presence of another wurmple in the corner of the room. Which —like the previous one— took attention of the ralts, scowling before it growled; like a beast which was not to be underestimated just because of its stature. 

 

Conlogy was hardly able to turn on his heels, “ah—!” before another needle shot out at him, growing larger in his vision and aiming straight up to his forehead—

 

“W-W-Watch out—!”

 

The force pushed him forward, Felix taking his place—the stinger grazed underneath his armpit, creating a red scratch, which didn’t quite trickle. He hissed as he felt his nerves scream with the prickling sensation that spread up his arm, but turned to face the caterpillar.

 

All he could hear was the throbbing in his eardrums. The residual buzzing.

 

A pebble in his vision was enough to instigate the raising of his arm, and with a flick of his fingers, with a flick of his imagination—

 

The stone slammed into the wurmple with a gooey, wet, unpleasant noise as red sprayed into the air—which stained the wall into which the wurmple was pinned, writhing before closing its evil eyes.

 

He gasped, and dropped his arm—too heavy to hold. His shoulder throbbed like his heart, as if with a life of its own in his armpit.

 

“F-Felix…” Conlogy smiled—but he didn’t have an ounce of the energy he should have, “th-thank you… we s-should… go on,” he pointed straight ahead—to the north, “I th-think— I mean, I’m not… sure… but I hope—” he swallowed a whimper, “I hope that’s where… the stairs are…” he exhaled with difficulty. He took a step forward but his legs yielded, staggering to the floor.

 

Felix startled, rushing over to the ralts and offering him a hand. “A-Are you alright—?” 

 

“No—” he stood up.

 

“S-Sorry, right— wait—” he positioned himself at his side, lending his shoulder—in which the ralts leaned easily; the size difference made it easier than expected, “I— I know it’s not much, uh, but—” at least it wasn’t grabbing his arm, that would be too invasive. This was the least he could do—perhaps the only one.

 

“N-No— it does help, really, th-thank you…” he moved forward.

 

The linoone followed behind them, without a word.

 

When they surfaced from the mist, what looked back at them was the room—a blue fruit resting… beside sunken stairs. Beside him, the ralts made a faint movement with his arm, as if to pump his fist.

 

It was the ferret who hurried over, scurrying between them to catch the berry. He turned to offer it to the abra, “you look tired, sir— wouldn’t you like to take it?” there was that concerned tinge in his voice, with an inward look and frown together. There was something else, though.

 

But now was not the time to identify that—what he should do was shake his head, for, though he did not wish to antagonize him, it was clear that someone else needed the berry, and he could no longer ignore it. “I— I-I think, umh, actually— umh, I-I think,” he gulped, and looked back at Conlogy. “D-Don’t you rather, uh, have it?”

 

He slumped slightly, “I-I think…” he inhaled sharply, “I think I could use it… a little…” the purple tint on his face deepened, fluid still dripping from the tiny hole in his limb.

 

“Oh— a-alright, then,” he handed the berry to the abra anyway.

 

The latter took it, and stepped to a wall to allow Conlogy to lean against before handing him the oran berry.

 

“T-Thank you, sir and Felix…” he accepted it, biting down slowly. Some liquid trickled down his jaw, but he slurped and blinked. His wound smoldered, the skin growing to heal quickly, leaving a red stain where the hole used to be. Still his face remained purple. “Good, I’m… better!” he stepped forward—to soon stagger, about to lose his balance, “well— not so much— but better than before, at least!” he strode toward the stairs, down a step. “I’ll recover from the poison on the next floor, don’t worry, Felix! Now, let’s go down—”

 

The feeling under his bandages still raked his throat from the inside. “Y-You’re… Y-You’re sure you, uh, don’t need a… an antidote?” 

 

“He doesn’t need one,” the linoone interjected, walking to position himself behind the ralts, still facing the abra. “You’ve never been in a dungeon before?” he quirked an eyebrow.

 

Before he could answer, Conlogy did it for him. “No, sir, he’s never been—! Well, yes, he was once— but it was only once, and there was no poison! And no, he’s never heard of dungeons before either, sir— I know it sounds weird, but he really doesn’t know, so don’t worry about it,” he went down another step. “But let’s go— that, uh, still, well, hurts a little—” he barked a laugh, but it was quick, shallow. He descended into the darkness with alacrity, losing himself in the gloom.

 

The linoone hummed, “yeah, we should keep going,” he also stepped into the abyss.

 

…It was still chilling. He gulped, and allowed the light to envelop his senses. 

 

---

 

The stickiness latched onto his skin—wet threads like spit, gumming up his muscles with the others, turning his motions heavy as his limbs. He restrained a gag, struggling to remove them from his flesh with alacrity.

 

The ralts found himself in the same situation, fighting against the silken threads enveloping his skin—he used his hands to rip them off, but more were shot in his direction. He groaned, “stop— ah!” Suddenly, the green-colored, yellow-bellied caterpillars swooped at him from all directions, tackling his diminutive body to the ground and coming to rest on top of his back. He whimpered at the headbutts, scrambling to lift himself up but being sent to the ground due to the weight, “get— off!” he clenched his teeth, waving his arms, “get— off! Felix, do— this is your chance to do something!” he shouted, covering the back of his head.

 

The large boulder loomed near the passageway through which they had emerged. The length of his torso, it proved too much to lift—but there was nothing else to throw, so he had to try. He aimed for the pebble, and sucked in a deep breath, feeling his heart pounding out of his chest. 

 

The air was heavy. As if a rope were wrapped between his fingers. As if he were holding a dumbbell. With a flick, the aura trajectory formed—it shot toward the caterpies, hitting them all in the head with a wet thud, pinning them each against the wall. They writhed, howling in pain; some closing their eyes. 

 

But he had underestimated the size of the stone, and it dropped of its own weight the moment the aura left it, collapsing at Conlogy’s feet. He cried out harshly, the tips of his limbs flattening and the blood pooling in a lump in his kneecaps, the veins throbbing distinctly in the sunlight. 

 But he had underestimated the size of the stone, and it dropped of its own weight the moment the aura left it, collapsing at Conlogy’s feet. He cried out harshly, his legs crushed by the boulder.

“Ah— sorry!” he winced, turning his vision to the caterpillars, which crawled; like a death squad, lined up to spit silken threads at them. 

 

He raised his quivering hand; the tip twitching, and lifted the rock —its wobbling course through the air, barely landing a few inches away— before writhing on the ground, “F-Felix— attack again, I’m— uh! Well— bad!” he tried to stand up, but his legs gave way; with purple bumps of skin on his heels.

 

“Ah— al— alright!” He aimed toward the rock—but cringed and spewed spittle as one of the two remaining caterpies slammed into his right side, digging into his flesh and causing his body to lurch to his left flank. The world whirled, but he had no moment to recover, for he shrieked as he felt the piercing sensation of jaws on his arm. red splattered over the caterpillar’s green, leaving two crimson dots on his yellow skin. They sank again, dangling from his arm and its tail grazing the ground. His epidermis palpitated. Breathing shallowly, he closed his hand and sought to deliver a left punch to his enemy’s temple—but it slithered around his figure, crawling snake-like toward his back and digging its jaws in once more. He shrieked, “H-Help!” he looked frantically sideways, wincing as the other caterpie continued to spit silken threads over his body.

 

“I-I don’t know how!” the linoone shouted—his voice cracked, hiding behind the corner of a hallway; head sticking out of the fog.

 

He spun around, frenziedly trying to swat the creature with his palm against the skin, as if it were a mere mosquito to squash and not a caterpillar the size of his arm. Another bite, another screech—the stinging burning feeling spread through his nerves like a poison from hell. He cursed in his brain how they had somehow managed to end up in that predicament, how the ferret had led them into a death trap—but even so he could not blame his incompetence, for they were both the fruit of the same tree, and among thieves there is no betrayal allowed. He hunched over, the insect nibbling at the back of his head.

 

Conlogy cast a glance toward the ferret, his horn glowing with a distracting radiance. “S-Sir— Sir, I know you don’t want to fight, but— we could use some help, really— even if you don’t know how!” he aimed toward the large rock, but before the aura could fume from his arm, he winced and grabbed his own limb with his other hand, grimacing.

 

There was no retort. Felix caught the back of the caterpie’s neck with his claws, and with all the strength his weak arms possessed, dragged it down, and proceeded to hurl it forward. The insect writhed on the ground, letting out a mighty cry as it kicked up the earth with its impact. It faced towards the abra, opening its jaw to—

 

A large boulder smashed its cranium into the grass, with a dull thud that flecked the greenery with scarlet. The other feral stared, stunned, leaving it no time to react to the boulder that flew into its face—with a single impact, it squirmed, closing its eyes; with the sharp point of the stone still inside its trunk. 

A large boulder striked its head, knocking it unconcious. The other feral stared, stunned, leaving it no time to react to the boulder that flew into its face—with a single impact, it squirmed, closing its eyes; with the sharp point of the stone still inside its trunk. 

It reeked of copper.

 

He staggered back, touching the back of his neck—it felt hot, wet. When he glanced down at his fingers, the drops with their red reflection stared back at him. He let out a heavy, stagnant exhalation in his diaphragm, and cast a look at Conlogy.

 

He was no better, panting and breathing labored. He soon lowered his arm, clutching his limb tightly, clenching his teeth in an obvious wince. He took a deep breath, turning on his heels to face the hallway behind him—the opposite of where they had come from. “Well…” the flame in his voice had perished, burning with the kindling of exhaustion and sheer determination, “we should get going, I think we only have this one room left,” he looked back at the ferret, and sketched a weary smile. “Sir— don’t feel guilty for not wanting to fight— also not for coming in here, we should have come anyway,” he grimaced, and started walking, stepping into the fog.

 

“S-Sure, I know that, but…” he lapsed into silence mid-sentence, following closely.

 

Felix said nothing—there was a lot he wished to share, but he was no one to talk to. He followed as well.

 

Where they arrived was another room—no hallways and no objects, but concrete stairs. 

 

The blaze flared up anew, as Conlogy ran toward the cement, and pumped his fist—albeit slowly. “Good, the stairs—!” he turned his head to regard the ferret out of the corner of his eye, “sir, by the way, on what floor did you say your friend lost his Charme-Claw?” 

 

He startled, “uhhhh…” he scratched the front of his neck, “oh— o-on floor eight,” he looked out into the infinite darkness over the ralts shoulder. “By the way, sorry for the inconvenience— I know I said it already, but—”

 

He descended a step, “really, sir, don’t worry about it, it’s our job—! Well, not really, come to think of it this isn’t a mission… But it’s our job to help, so…!” he went down another step, “really, don’t worry. Now, let’s go down, we should be close,” he disappeared, shrouded in darkness.

 

“S-Sure we are,” he also vanished.

 

And then he was engulfed in light, drenched in a bitter sensation; more burning than the stinging in his pangs.

 

---

 

At Frarn’s store the berries and fruit were invariably cheaper than at the market stalls. That was including the discount they received for a deal with the crew. Still, not everything could be bought there, so he found himself in the marketplace— looking with his eyes for the salesman who offered new cups and gallons of water. He was also required to buy a couple of extra hay beds, should the need arise, and Karoson had informed him that he needed more cooking utensils and a couple of handkerchiefs.

 

Mantoroh whistled softly to himself, stepping carefully through the crowd. He bumped his shoulder against a diggersby, and lowered his head lightly, “ah, excuse me,” he blurted softly, moving forward. 

 

That’s when he heard it.

 

“…Yeah, those kids— the ones I was tellin’ ya about,” at first instant, he ignored the conversation as no more than white noise in the bustle of the village and the hectic square. It was a high-pitched, sibylline voice. “Those go and like get in the way, like they think they’re some heroes or something— the freaks… then one mentions he’s from the crew and—”

 

He spotted a stall where they seemed to be selling stone glasses, he was about to check the prices— wait.

 

“From the crew? Some little kids? Are you kidding?” a hissing voice replied, “obvious they’re lying, or else they would have realized what they were getting into…” he sneered, “or maybe they just accept any chump these days,” he snickered, “wanna give it a try? Maybe this is your golden chance to join—”

 

He growled, “oh, shut up, this is serious.”

 

By this point, his gaze had already shifted to them—watching from the crowd, in the distance.

 

“But as I was sayin’, before you interrupted me,” the younger voice continued—it was a salandit, “then, the guy goes and says something, I don’t know what it was, I didn’t catch a listen, then they talk for a bit— because, of course, I stayed to listen, who wouldn’t?”

 

The other one was a silicobra; a green bandana around his neck, “someone who’s not nosy—”

 

“Shh. But as I was sayin’… they go, they talk for a little while, and then— he tells them to go to a dungeon,” he paused dramatically, speaking with his hands, “less obvious and the guy doesn’t get to born,” that earned a chuckle from his companion, “and you know the worst part? they believe him, and follow him! I saw them go, they fell flat!”

 

The earth serpent shook his head, a sly grin. “No. You didn’t saw, because it didn’t happen— no way it happened. They must be outsiders, and liars on top of that, because, really, no houndour like that would be such a blockhead,” he chuckled, “or maybe they’re ruined already. There goes the golden children of the cops, haha.”

 

He loomed over them. “Uh, excuse me,” he hunched his body, trying to match the heights as much as possible—it was complicated, but he didn’t wish to appear threatening to strangers. His heart had raced—it was clear as the sun in the firmament, but he couldn’t blame them, ignorance wouldn’t deserve to be mocked; someone good shouldn’t. “Pardon me for intruding on your conversation, but— were those, uh, children, a ralts and an abra?” he asked with alacrity; he had no time to waste.

 

They both looked at him, with narrowed eyes and a look of disgust—he understood why. “…Mind your own business—” the salandit grimaced, frowning; but was interrupted by a whip on the muzzle, he let out a gasp and covered his mouth, “hey—!”

 

The silicobra glanced at him and hissed, squinting like a feral, retracting his tail, “shut up, this a crew member, this chesnaught— don’t you see?” he sighed, shaking his head in annoyance, “you always embarrass me, really…” he lifted his gaze to make eye contact with Mantoroh. “But yeah, they were,” he cracked a sly grin again. “Heh, what, are you going to go arrest them for going around ruining the reputation of the police gold houndours?” 

 

…

 

His facial muscles went rigid. “…Do you know what dungeon they went to?”

 

---

 

Once more the dead-end room stared back at them, with its tall mossy walls; if they had eyes, they would be full of disdain. When the universe returned to normal, and he felt his feet touch the ground like a graceful quill landing on the grass, he blinked; rubbing his eyes, watching as Conlogy stood in front of them both, hands on his hips. “Here we are—! Now, where is your item…” he looked around to the sides, to the ground, and finally; hesitantly, upward. 

 

A heartbeat of silence. Then another.

 

Conlogy turned to them both—with eyes wide. “Sir— the Charme-Claw is not here!” 

 

The linoone’s expression shattered like glass, “is n-not here? What do you mean, not here? It should—” his voice hitched, taking on a rapid pace like his sudden breathing, rushing forward—scraping the front wall.

 

That sensation that bathed his body took hold in his gut—it was confirmation, “t-then… we came here for— for nothing—” the throbbing behind his knees, in his muzzle and in the red areas of his body disagreed with the words spoken, burning, twisting his flesh. But in part, they had only wasted time… and that was lighter than the worst possible circumstance. As bitter as it was, it was not appalling.

 

The ferret pawed at the wall—palpating the moss, trying to find nothing. “No… No— it h-has to be here! I know it was here!” upright on two legs, his torso made contact with the wall, like a desperate embrace.

 

Conlogy’s shoulders slumped, “Sir…” his voice was tinged in pity, with a commiserating look. “I’m sorry but—”

 

Red.

 

In the blink of an eye, his vision was suffused with crimson.

 

Heat drenched his torso with droplets.

 

The scream drilled his eardrums.

 

In less than a blink, the back of the ralts was punctured by the fierce claws of a beast—one of red scales.

 

He staggered forward, falling to the floor—crimson slash, fluid gushing to the ground; blooming roses, which filled his vision with the sickly scent of copper. His stomach twisted with the urge to vomit.

He staggered forward, falling to the floor, with clear slashes on his back. The sight made his stomach twist. 

His heart froze, just like his entire nervous system. Only his hands moved, to cover his muzzle, to protect his own gash above his lip—scarlet dripping from its backside.

 

“Heh!” the monster snorted—smoke rising from his nostrils, and he lifted his leg, stomping —with a wet sound— on the fallen ralts back, pinning him to the ground. He cried out—it was gut-wrenching. “Next time look behind you, dumbass— both of you, you’re fools!” he taunted, displaying his sharp fangs.

“Heh!” the monster snorted—smoke rising from his nostrils, and he lifted his leg, stomping the fallen ralts back, pinning him to the ground. He cried outg. “Next time look behind you, dumbass— both of you, you’re fools!” he taunted, displaying his sharp fangs.

The air caught in his throat. In front of him, the predicament was just as he had feared on that street—now his heart was beating faster than possible, than believable, a rabbit in the prey’s paws.

 

Conlogy gasped, squirming under his foot. “Y-You…!” he exclaimed, breathing heavily. He swallowed a groan. “You followed us here… outlaw…!” he tried to reach out his hand—but his hope was crushed, extinguished as the heel dug deeper into the incision of three diagonal lines.

 

“Follow you?” he hunched his body, his claws curling inward—scratching more flesh, dragging out more shrieks. He guffawed, pure malice in his heart, with such black venom seeping into his voice, “don’t make me laugh, I wasn’t following you— fool! Do you really think I was following you, without you noticing? Have you no brains there in your wet little skulls?” he snorted, “I was waiting for you— since I left, I’ve been waiting for you,” his grin widened, and he looked up… “Isn’t that right, Bahzar?” 

 

Felix’s gaze shifted to where his eyes landed and—

 

A laugh; deep and slow, filled his ears. 

 

It buzzed in his eardrums like white noise, like the pounding of his heart he felt in his throat.

 

The ferret turned, a vast smirk on his face. “Exactly, Piros!” he exclaimed, “and you know what’s the best— you know what’s the funniest thing about all this is?” he thumped the grass with his hind paw, bursting out laughing, “that they haven’t even noticed— these wet furs are so dumb they haven’t even noticed! Throughout the whole dungeon, it’s unbelievable!”  

 

His heart sank in his chest.

 

A louder—more piercing gasp, punctuated the air, akin to a choked squeal. “W-WHAT?! BUT—!” he squirmed, “But that— that means that—!” he clenched his fists—his frown deepening with each heartbeat, with each second the realization made weight in his brain, until finally— “You— you— it means that you… you’re nothing but thugs— you two! It was a trap!” he pounded the ground, and tried to rise up—causing the heel on his back to dig deeper. “You— you cheaters!” he gritted his teeth. 

 

“Bo, ho!” he crouched his head, bringing his face closer, and spread his arms out to his sides, “so long you took, stupid!” he lifted his chin, glaring, “or should I say…” he snarled, spitting at the back of his neck, “liar. Because that’s what you are, don’t you,” he flashed his gums, “or do you think you could scam good people by saying you’re a crew houndour— and did you think anyone would believe you?” he hunched over, “without a badge? Without a bag? Without guts?” he huffed, causing Conlogy to cough. “Not just any dumbass joins them, not even a slowpoke would buy your lies. You want to rob us, don’t you? Is that it? Is that it, isn’t it?!” he backed up—

 

Conlogy’s eyes snapped wide, and with a gasp, he rose—

 

To spit as he was kicked in the side, tumbling to the ground and dragging the earth inward. “That’s it, I can tell! I can tell from here to Turbine!”

 

Something fizzled in his chest and inside—it was something more than cold. It was warm. Pungent as infernal piquancy. He clenched his fists, as if his blood was boiling; but even with that, he was unable to move a muscle. He had to do something—but he knew he was powerless, realized there was nothing he could do—and yet, he was…

 

“And sure they’re bad liars, if these wet furs were more obvious they weren’t born,” the ferret walked forward, standing in front of Conlogy—who was still eating dirt. “You sure are a bad liar, that you didn’t even realize I was tricking you! You fool!” he pointed at him and laughed, cracking a mischievous grin. Then, he paused to swing his hind leg forward, striking the center of Conlogy’s face. 

 

Which squirmed, gasping and trying to cover his face with his hands, which barely budged—as an instinctive movement. “We weren’t—!” another kick, another screech interrupted his words.

 

“Shut up! At least you’re good for something—” Roughly, he inserted his hand inside the ralts’ scalp, pulling—grabbing the sack, a few green hairs falling to the ground; pulled out by the roots. “Piros~ Surprise!”

 

The reptile squinted, and soon opened his eyes wide. “Wait— did they have gold?” his gaze lit up—an inner glow like that of a predator in the dark.

 

He let out a chuckle, “yeah—!” he cast a glance toward Conlogy, “honestly, we’d just come to kick your asses… but, hey,” he shrugged, “double prize. Who doesn’t like to kick the crap out of outsiders?”

 

Conlogy trembled, his arms vibrating as he rested his palms against the floor, lifting his torso. “I-I-I’m not even an outsider—” he was disrupted by, once again, the foot impacting against his midsection, causing him to stagger and fall to the grass.

 

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t do anything.

He never. Never could.

 

It was the red-scaled reptilian, who huffed—amber sparks, “now you’re going to tell me you were born here? You, born here? Tell me a better lie, wet skin— you’re not from here,” he kicked again, “nor you…” he shot a glare at Felix.

 

It chilled his blood. 

 

“Nor your friend are welcomed in our lands.”

 

The linoone jingled the bag, the metal like a familiar chime of derision. “Ah, yes, your friend, that wimpod!” he pointed toward the coward, “Oh, look— he’s shaking! Oh by Arceus, he’s shaking! What a good-for-nothing dumbass!” he laughed—how homely.

 

“H-Hey-!” Conlogy shouted, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his teeth, letting out a hiss, “D-Dont… Don’t pick on Felix— he, yeah, he’s a little slow, but… but he’s not a good-for-nothing— here… here… here…! Here the only good-for-nothing ones are you! Unlike you he—!” 

 

“Who asked you?!” he clenched his paws and swung his fist with a rippling wet sound. It impacted right in the right eye, beginning to form a purple coloration around it.

 

If only the earth could swallow him. If only he succumbed to eternal sleep.

 

The lizard reached down, grabbing Conlogy by the hair and lifting his head off the ground—uttering a groan from him, “Exactly! Who asked you, huh, who?! Not us! No one! So shut up!” and with herculean force, he slammed his head into the grass.

 

His forehead smacked the earth, a cracking noise followed. It was an infernal sound.

 

It repeated, like a cacophony.

 

The ferret strode toward the abra—he didn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t breathe. “Well, well, well, well, aren’t you going to do something?” he snickered, “of course not,” he huffed, turning to look toward Conlogy, “see how much your little wet-skin friend is interested in you?” he shook his head. “You wet-skins are scum, you know that? You don’t give a damn about anything, do you? You don’t even have friendships with each other, you only care about our gold…” he spat at Felix’s feet. He headed towards the front, going for a punch to the ralts temple, with his head —forehead dripping with scarlet— held up by Piros. “But you know what bothers me the most, Piros? You know what I hate about you wet-skins? Not of wet-skins in general— of you. You guys in particular.”

 

“Y-You’re nothing but… but…” he tried to reach his arm forward, “but bullies—” he shrieked as a heel dug into his spine.

 

It was the scaled one, “what is it, Bahzar?” he glanced back at the ferret.

 

He hissed, “well…” another punch—provoking another yelp. “It bothers me, very, very much so, that they play hero— What— It’s as if they think they have a say in the conversation, which is not even theirs! You are outsiders, nothing more, you have no reason to meddle in anything, absolutely nothing, of our town— of our people! ” he brought a hand to his chest, “I was born in these lands— I—” he pounded the side of his fist, just above his heart, “I crossed these woods in my youth—” another thump, “I worked in these fields, and— and WE,” he clenched his fist—poking red dots in his fur, “WE alone, raised this town! And no one else!” he pulled his face closer, a grimace of disgust etched into his expression. “And then you come, and you think you can just come and take away everything we have— what our people— have done?! And without shame— to make it worse, because you have no shame! You are of the worst kind, and you have no shame!” his voice rose progressively, until he shouted. “You take opportunities— mine, and everyone’s! Opportunities for work, for land, for resources— everything, everything you steal! So if you’re going to steal… then we’ll take everything from you too! Did you hear?! Everything!” 

 

It was nonsense. Nothing but nonsense. It ran in his blood, it ran in his veins—an emotion so, so familiar, so raw and visceral. Throbbing beast, dormant and unable to be awakened; plunged into eternal slumber. It pulsated as his heart, pulsed with life, chained like a beast to the depths of his soul.

 

Conlogy writhed, clenching his teeth. “I-I’m so sorry you can’t— can’t find work, as I guess you’re saying, but— but…!” he spoke loud and clear, a desperate undertone, “but that doesn’t make this right! I— it’s not the foreigners’ fault that—!”

 

The snapping sound once echoed through the room. Again, and again, and again. The hot splashed one of his feet.

 

“Shut up! Shut up— right now!” it boomed, a thud. “What do you know— what would you know! If you’re nothing— nobody, a nobody, a wet skin who didn’t get to see how precious Arcella was… before you came— free of your kind, of your people!” he slammed his skull against the floor, again. “You’ve even robbed the council— all thieves, those and the guilds— all of them— all of them— all thieves, who have given you our home as if it were worth less than gold! How much did you pay to take everything from us!? How much, eh?! HOW MUCH?!” he roared, raising his voice.

 

“Tell him, tell him!”

 

Even with everything, the ralts was shaking less than Felix. “N-No…” he squeezed his eyes shut, and raised his head, red dripping from his forehead. “Y-You’re not right…” he spat at the lizard’s feet, with a clear scowl on his face, “you’re just angry— and you’re stupid… you! You’re stupid—! The foreigners are not the cause of your problems, it’s— it’s yourselves!” he pressed his palms against the ground, breathing heavily. “They… They’re the ones who— you— you— you’re the ones who… you have no reason to be… you’re just— you’re just cowards—!”

 

And they bashed his head in again. “Shut up already, you stupid wet skin!” 

 

“Cowards, us? The only wimpod here is your friend, the other gutless wet-skin,” he darted a glance at Felix, squinting his eyes like slits, and then looked back at Conlogy. “What about you? Stop thinking you’re so clever here, you’re dumber than a slowpoke. You don’t stop bothering…” he unfolded his claws, reaching out his arm to the sides, “so I’m going to show you what happens when you mess with good and decent people…” he raised his hand, taking a step forward. “This is justice, you bastard!”

 

A heartbeat.

 

Leather ripped off.

 

And a thud.

 

The linoone cringed at the impact, squealing as he felt the bruise form on his back. He turned with alacrity, at the same time as the bag —which had flown off his torso— that impacted his fur fell to the ground—abandoned from the pink aura. His eyes wide as saucers were fixed on the abra…

 

…Who had his arm raised, pointing at him.

 

With another heartbeat, he realized how his bones had moved of their own accord, how his consciousness had stranded to the seas of the mind, there until lost—now it had been ripped away, his soul brought into the situation at hand. He blinked, not bothering to control his violent shaking, and gasped, “w-what…” his three claws were frozen in place, “w-what did I just…?” he muttered, cold sweat rolling down his forehead, “w-what did I just… do—?” his daze was interrupted by the heat—that spread across his face, throbbing beneath his skin like his heart. The sharp sensation pulled him to the ground, just like the gash that now made room on his cheek. He felt the grass tickle against his backside, instinctively bringing his hand to cover his face… his fingertips stained with scarlet droplets that trickled down his skin.

 

“You like playing hero too, wimpod?” his gaze fulminated at him, voice cutting like a knife. With a look of disdain, he raised his body on two legs, and huffed. “Then…!” he raised his paw once more, “abstain to the consequences—!”

 

The linoone found himself backlit.

 

“W-WHAT—?!”

 

The source of illumination was the amber that cascaded from behind; consuming the ferret’s cinnamon fur. With a wrenching scream, he collapsed forward, hugging the grass in front of Felix. With a glance from above, he could witness the brittle charcoal forming at the tips of his standing hairs, sparks crackling in the air with a loud crunch. 

The source of illumination was the amber that cascaded from behind; consuming the ferret’s cinnamon fur. With a wrenching scream, he collapsed forward, hugging the grass in front of Felix.

 

Towering over him, the reptile crinkled his eyes. With a kick he spun him on the ground, facing his face to his, and lifted his foot, stomping with the wickedness of a demon just above his muzzle, forcibly shutting his grimace. “Ahh…” he huffed in relief, “finally you shut up,” he twisted his heel, frowning—in his eyes, he was a feral, and even worse. “Finally!” he hunched over, clamping his claws shut, which took root in the linoone’s nose—drawing red from his nostrils, “you finally shut your mouth— you’ve tired me out with so much hypocrisy and feigned annoyance!” at the whimper of —trembling— confusion he only spread his arms out to the sides, “Come on, don’t play around! You’re nothing but another wet-skin, just like them!” He roared, “You’re not— there’s no difference between you three, you’re the same!” he twisted his foot, his claws raking the flesh aside. “Or do you think because you were born here you’re any different from them? Wrong! Bad! You’re wrong!” he spat, “your ancestors brought wetness in their skin— and you have it in your veins! Thieves are still thieves even if they steal for generations on end, and you… you’re just another one on the line!” 

Towering over him, the reptile crinkled his eyes. With a kick he spun him on the ground, facing his face to his, and lifted his foot, stomping with the wickedness of a demon just above his muzzle, forcibly shutting his grimace. “Ahh…” he huffed in relief, “finally you shut up. Finally! You finally shut your mouth— you’ve tired me out with so much hypocrisy and feigned annoyance!” at the whimper of —trembling— confusion he only spread his arms out to the sides, “Come on, don’t play around! You’re nothing but another wet-skin, just like them!” He roared, “You’re not— there’s no difference between you three, you’re the same! Or do you think because you were born here you’re any different from them? Wrong! Bad! You’re wrong!” he spat, “your ancestors brought wetness in their skin— and you have it in your veins! Thieves are still thieves even if they steal for generations on end, and you… you’re just another one on the line!”  

The ferret’s eyes opened wide, his pupils growing like dots. Felix felt a spear in his heart—what a familiar look. “What—!? No-! What?!” he seemed incapable of mustering the words, stumbling in his speech, hissing at the sight of dripping blood, “what the heck, Piros!” he snarled, “you know I’m not a wet-skin— we know each other— if I—!” he scowled, “I’m not like them— I was born in Arcella— and I’m not going to accept that neither YOU, nor— nor anyone, should go and say that these aren’t OUR lands—!”

 

“OUR?!” he elevated his foot —the linoone attempted to slip away instantly— to stomp, cutting through the air and causing a splashing sound, “OUR lands?!” with a snarl, he cracked open his maw; spitting out an orange ball; sparking embers which flew towards the ferret’s back.

 

It stank of burnt flesh.

 

He wanted to throw up.

 

He wanted to do so many things.

 

“Don’t—!” a stomp, “make—!” again, “me—!” and another, “laugh—!” rang louder than the rest. “Nothing— but nothing here is yours— or anyone else’s! No one but us, the TRUE owners of this land—!” he thumped his chest, with a rumbling sound that echoed through the room, “MY ancestors were born, and lived, and built this town! And yours?! They only showed up to steal— to do nothing but take what’s ours!” he pointed at him, “You’re just an usurper… a thief… you’re just like these wet-skins— you’re just the same!” 

 

“Th-That’s—”

 

“That’s not true!” a voice broke through the fierce argument—it was sharp, and wounded… but with an inner fire that the reptile could only dream of imitating. They both stared at Conlogy, and he staggered, propping his palms so that he was at least kneeling; his feet quivering, just like his arms. “He… he’s not the same! He was born here— I was born on this continent too, but he was born here— in Arcella! And it’s not… it’s not fair for you to say he doesn’t deserve to live in a place where— where he grew up, that he obviously cares about— though in a bad way— and you should care about him!” he tried to rise up, tried to point his arm towards the bag of scattered objects, but the aura was faint, “after all— aren’t you two friends?! How do you talk like that about a partner— of a friend! Even if you’re both thieves, and cowards, and worse, liars too, and should be arrested— you’re still partners!” he pointed at the ferret, “he seemed to trust you and—!” his own scream interrupted him.

 

He was engulfed by the blaze of flames from the chameleon’s jaws. He collapsed back to the ground, black marks on his chest, throbbing like his heart; now covered in charcoal, fragile as glass. 

 

“Shut up! Him?!” he pointed at the ferret, and cackled, “Him, a friend?! He’s nothing! Did you hear?! Nothing!” he increased his voice, stomping harder. “He’s nothing but a— a— a— a thing I used to end up with more wet fur— a thief who doesn’t even realize he is one… and it fills me with rage— I can’t stand to listen to him anymore!”

 

The linoone snarled, “I’m not…!” he screeched, gritting his teeth, “Piros, I’m not a wet-skin—!”

 

“SHUT UP NOW! Shut up!” he raised his foot.

 

He stomped on the head.

 

The sound was deafening, it was shattering. It was like a crack breaking the earth. It splattered—it was warm, like iron and burnt, smoky flesh. 

 

Conlogy gasped, the linoone writhed.

 

“You’re nothing— NOTHING! You’re a usurper, you’re a THIEF! GET— get out!” he pointed at Conlogy, “get out!” he pointed at Felix, “and you!” he stomped at the linoone, “and you! All of you get out of our lands, of the earthly pokémon, NOT OF YOU!” 

 

It bubbled, boiling.

 

Another stomp, “Get out—!”

 

He was headed toward heart failure.

 

“Get out of here!”

 

He could shield his ears, ignore reality, but the screams pierced his soul like switchblades.

 

“You don’t deserve anything! Nothing but— but get kicked out of here!

 

Another stomp.

 

He must do something.

 

He had to.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

But he had to— he wanted to. It burned. Like red. It burned, and tore, and howled to be released, to manifest, to do something.

 

Another stomp.

 

To do something—

 

“Stop! You bastard!” 

 

He shouted, with all the oxygen in his lungs, with all the fire inside him; seething his blood.

 

Time halted.

 

The three gazes fell on him, who had risen to his feet. Three of disbelief, three of small pupils—as if he had cut and killed the atmosphere just with his mere words, with his mere presence making itself known. 

 

He covered his muzzle.

 

He was dead—on the spot, there now only stood a corpse; one that would soon begin to rot, once he truly passed away at the hands of the beast. He had leapt into the abyss, like a headless bravesman, and now he would lose his heart. Immediately his throat stung, blazing like inferno.

 

The foot left the ferret’s muzzle, preferring to face Felix. His face was contorted—that could not be called the expression of a rational being; it was something far dreadful, it was something primal and animalistic, with a grimace deeper than he could imagine, with flaming eyes like his tail. “…Excuse me?” he took a step forward, spreading his arms out to the sides—his tone low, almost dazed, slow-worded. “Let me see if I get this—” he relaxed his frown, “am I a bastard? Excuse me?” he drew in a deep breath…

 

And then, the abra shrunk.

 

Seeing the pupils like dots penetrating his soul. “AM— AM I THE BASTARD HERE!?” he roared, with a loud stomp that raised a curtain of dirt between the two, filling Felix’s mouth with dust, “I— ME!? ME WHO WAS BORN HERE, ME WITH PARENTS WHO FORMED ARCELLA AND WHO HAVE LIVED HUNDREDS OF YEARS IN THESE LANDS, ME WHO EVERY DAY HAVE TO WATCH AS WET SKINS DESTROY OUR HOME!?” his voice echoed, rattling bones with its powerful vibration. “ME!? AM I THE BASTARD!?” and without warning, he rushed forward.

 

In an instant, the world spun abruptly, and dizzying red splattered his sight—the heat and pang spread across his right cheek, claws slicing into his yellow flesh like butter. He stumbled, pulled by gravity, and shrieked as he crushed his own tail with his weight once more. His trembling fingers went to the three thin slashes, soaking his digits with the warmth that descended to his chin. The only clearly audible thing was the throbbing in his ears, his heart in his tight throat. He opened his jaw to beg for mercy, but its dryness prevented him from pushing out a word. He was condemned. He shook his head, lost in trembling—he could kneel and beg, but he knew what his fate was, so familiar to beings like him.

 

“YOU!” he pointed his claw at him—dripping blood, “YOU… YOU are the worst of these wet-skins— I just realized it!” he bared his fangs, tensing his neck. He jerked his chin up, glaring down with disdain, “you tremble like a wimpod but you think you have the guts to play hero like your useless friend back there— you’re the worst, you’re a filthy coward, a cowardly thief,” he took a step forward.

 

Felix stepped back, using his elbows to crawl on the ground on his back, like a worm.

 

Another step, “do you hear me?! You’re a cowardly thief— among the wet skins, your kind are the worst— shameless scoundrels who don’t even have the guts to show their faces, just hide, and show their hand when they’re safe!” he snarled, advancing further and further, kicking up the dirt—leaving sparks of fire in his gait, “you disgust me— and that’s why I’m going to give you what you deserve, I’m going to show you how cowards like you should be treated— with a good beating, the one you deserve!”

 

Felix’s back hit a wall. He glanced back out of the corner of his eye, feeling his breath hitch. This was the demise.

 

The claw grazed his nose, “and not just you— all the wet-skins, all the thieves… all deserve this…!” he backed up for a single step, taking distance—just to lengthen his foot backward, hunching his body forward like an animal. He licked the corners of his muzzle, and released a guttural growl, “and I’m going to start…!” he opened his maw, dark as a tar pit; which was brightened by the amber of hell bubbling up from his throat. “WITH YOU!”

 

These were his last moments.

 

As he witnessed the stream of fire-wrapped embers being blasted like bullets towards his chest, he reckoned how he had really done nothing but ruin the situation—it was as if time was ticking forward in slow motion, as if his entire life was flashing before his eyes… but there was nothing to commemorate, only a dark void with no closure.

 

At least, at the last moment, he was allowed to open his eyes as wide as possible and scream at the top of his lungs.

 

He could feel the heat grazing his skin.

 

He couldn’t accept the finale, but life certainly wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.

 

He blinked.

 

The cream shielded his sight. 

He gasped, feeling and watching the embers being deflected to the sides—like a shield that refracted them, creating currents to his flanks; orange rivers that scorched the air and dissipated in the strong breeze that whipped through the grass.

 

Conlogy gasped too—and though he couldn’t see it, hidden behind the broad back, Felix was able to overhear the shaky, “WHAT?!” coming from the chameleon, which recoiled.

 

“I-It’s…!” the ferret’s eyes widened.

 

He parted his forearms, not lowering his limbs but splitting the shield—completely intact, with its green spikes pointed toward the enemy.

 

“M-Mantoroh!” Conlogy shouted, at least raising part of his body off the ground.

 

“A-A crew member— a real one?!” The tremor was palpable in the reptile’s voice.

 

The chesnaught turned his head to the side to glance out of the corner of his eye toward Felix. Though he couldn’t see his expression, the soft gaze was like a —pleasant— pang to the heart, a relief. “Are you alright, Felix? The fire shouldn’t have gotten to you— although it must have been uncomfortably hot, but…” he cast a glance toward the ralts. “Sorry for being late. I’m not saying you couldn’t have handled the situation on your own, but…” he focused his eyes straight ahead, “I’m glad I got here on time.”

 

“What the—? How did you know that—?!” Piros abruptly got silent mid-sentence—howling a choked scream as his face was grabbed by the thick brown claws. He didn’t have a split second to react before he was lifted into the air, trapped against his will. He waved his legs, digging his claws into Mantoroh’s arm. “L-Let go of me!”

 

He disregarded him, “and, I think, there’s no harm… in helping some fellow mates,” and with those words.

 

He plunged his hand to the ground.

 

The earth cracked, forming noticeable crevices in the grass.

 

The screech was deafening—that of the chameleon being slammed to the floor. He barely managed to make more noise before he closed his eyes, head slumped and covered in rocks. 

 

---

 

With a yawn, Agent Magnezone rolled back their magnets, blinking leisurely as they scanned the papers on their desk. These were a collection of documents, of reports; ready to be organized, to be examined, and the police forces deployed for the investigation.

 

Slowly, they grabbed —with magnetism— the hot mug of chesto berry infusion on the wood, taking a sip. Through the window the natural sunlight was streaming in, hanging over the bluish firmament, shielded by the wide white clouds.

 

With their eyes settled on the sheets, they transferred the document to a different stack—that was another agent they would have to dispatch for the investigation into the theft of some bananas. Best to hurry, otherwise the Council would start putting pressure—and they already had enough with Central on them. 

 

They sighed, reading the next one—

 

They nearly choked on their beverage. They coughed, sparks crackling in their antennae.

 

Their eye cracked wide, and they swallowed hard. “BZZ. VIRGAS!” they called, raising their voice, lifting the page to read it, again and again, carefully; quickly, but that did not alter its contents.

 

The magnemite showed up in the doorframe, eye downcast. “bzz. What?” they yawned—the bag around their torso dangling near the wooden floor of the office. 

 

“BZZ. CONTACT ZELODEC. IMMEDIATELY. BZZ!”