Chapter 284: Desert Oasis
"Basalt?"
The person holding the sign was a young man with tanned skin. When his lips parted in a smile, they revealed white teeth, giving him a friendly appearance.
"Yes, I'm Basalt."
"Hello, I'm Quentin, from the Pokémon Research Department. Professor Rowan asked me to pick you up." The tanned young man, Quentin, grinned and reached out to shake Basalt's hand naturally.
"Nice to meet you, senior!" Basalt, playing the part of a junior, quickly bowed and thanked him for the pickup.
However, looking closely at Quentin, Basalt felt he looked surprisingly mature. There were hints of gray at his temples, his hairline was unusually high, and his smile seemed a bit… oily. If someone told him Quentin was forty, Basalt wouldn't have doubted it.
"Senior, what year are you in?" Basalt asked tentatively.
"What year?" Quentin seemed pleasantly surprised, then ran a hand through his distinct hairstyle. "To be honest," he said with a grin, "I finished my undergrad ages ago. I'm a third-year grad student now, pushing thirty in a couple of years. You really know how to talk, junior. Do I look that young?"
"Only a third-year grad student?" Basalt's mouth twitched. He remembered Professor Mogan mentioning that several PhDs were working on this research team. He had assumed Quentin was a doctoral student. Turns out, he was only in his third year of grad school.
"So much for a research career. Not for me, not in this lifetime..."
Looking at Quentin's skin, hairline, and temples, Basalt felt immensely grateful he had chosen the path of a trainer. Trainers didn't need graduate degrees; after undergrad, they were on their own. Not like researchers, who went from undergrad to master's, then ideally to a PhD. And even after getting a doctorate, it wasn't always smooth sailing. There were too many pitfalls on the path, and it consumed so much time.
Trainers had it simple. Just one standard: can you battle?
Led by Quentin, Basalt left the airport and took a taxi out of the city.
Once they were clear of the urban area, Quentin quickly tossed out a Pokéball.
"Fly-gon!"
With a clear, melodious cry, a green Pokémon with bright red eyes, two large wings, and a long tail appeared. It was a Flygon.
"The city was a no-fly zone, but now that we're out, we can use flying Pokémon for transport."
Quentin climbed onto Flygon's back, grabbing the two antennae on its head to steady himself. He motioned for Basalt to join him. "Hop on," he smiled. "You can grab Flygon's neck when we take off, or hold onto my waist so you don't fall off."
"Hold onto your waist?"
Basalt looked at Quentin's greasy smile, and goosebumps almost broke out on his skin. That was genuinely repulsive.
"Uh... senior, actually, I have my own flying Pokémon. Maybe I should just ride mine." Basalt gave an awkward laugh and took a Pokéball from his belt.
"Is your Pokémon fast enough?" Quentin looked skeptical. "Even though we're still in the Aridia Region, this region is huge. It's about eight hundred kilometers from here to the camp. Even if everything goes smoothly, it'll still take four hours."
According to Professor Rowan, Basalt was supposed to be a first-year freshman. How strong could a freshman be? Advanced-rank at best.
But Quentin was different. Although he was a research student and didn't focus on battling, his Flygon, which he had spent ten years and considerable resources raising as a utility Pokémon, had barely reached the Pro-level. And with its Levitate ability, it was an excellent flyer.
So, Quentin seriously doubted if Basalt could keep up. If he couldn't, it would be dark by the time they reached the camp. And the Takla Desert at night was terrifying. Even proper Pro-level trainers wouldn't dare travel carelessly, let alone a half-baked researcher like himself.
Hearing this, Basalt just grinned. "So, your Flygon's cruising speed is about two hundred kilometers per hour? Then my Bronzong should be fine."
"Broonz!"
With a deep chime, Super Bell appeared.
"Whoa, that's huge!" Quentin's eyes widened. He had seen Bronzong before, but never one this massive. It clearly wasn't weak.
"Alright then. I'll see if your Bronzong can keep up with my Flygon first. If it can't, you'd better ride with me. We have to get back to camp before dark."
After making sure Basalt understood, Quentin patted Flygon's antennae. Its wings beat, and it shot into the sky.
"Bronzong, let's follow!" Basalt said casually.
"Broonz!"
Bronzong understood. Tilting its body slightly, a white light flared from its base, and it launched forward like a jet, rapidly closing the distance with the Flygon.
Previously, Bronzong needed to use both Reverse Gravity to lighten its weight and its propulsion cannon to accelerate, which consumed a lot of energy and wasn't sustainable. But now that Basalt had given it Excadrill's Float Stone, it no longer needed Reverse Gravity. Super Bell had gained some endurance.
"Not bad, kid!" Quentin blinked, looking Bronzong up and down. Seeing no sign of strain on its "face," he asked curiously, "This probably isn't its top speed, is it?"
Basalt was about to say "Yep," but Quentin's next sentence immediately stopped him.
"Basalt, I didn't expect your Bronzong to be so fast. Why don't... I ride with you? We could save some time."
"No, no, this is absolutely its top speed," Basalt quickly denied, simultaneously sending a telepathic message to Super Bell to slow down a bit.
After leaving the provincial capital, the first part of their journey was mostly over high mountains and hills. Some of the peaks even had patches of snow, indicating their extreme altitude. Occasionally, they would see clusters of human settlements or small towns. While largely sparsely populated, it wasn't completely deserted.
After more than an hour, Basalt finally saw the golden expanse of the desert.
"Basalt, ahead is the Takla Desert. It's the largest desert in our Alliance, covering hundreds of thousands of square kilometers—equivalent to several of our coastal provinces combined."
Quentin's face was full of excitement as he pointed at the vast sea of sand. "I heard you're building a Sandstorm team? Then you've come to the right place. There are tons of Pokémon in here. When you have free time, I can show you around. You're bound to find one you like."
"That sounds great!" Basalt was overjoyed. "Then I'll have to trouble you, senior."
"We're practically brothers now, don't mention it." Quentin waved his hand magnanimously. Because of those first few words exchanged when they met, Quentin had a very good impression of this junior.
The weather was excellent today, clear skies for miles. Unfortunately, they were flying quite high, so they couldn't see any activity on the dunes below. Their main task today was just to travel.
But as they flew, Basalt noticed Quentin seemed to have adjusted their course.
Seeing Basalt's questioning look, Quentin quickly explained, "Our camp is in the Oasis District. Going in a straight line would save several hundred kilometers, but it would mean crossing the core region of the Takla Desert."
"That area is constantly plagued by sandstorms, and the Pokémon there are the strongest. With our current strength, rushing in there, even during the day, would be extremely dangerous. So, we have to take the long way around."
Hearing this, Basalt's eyes narrowed slightly. "The core region of the Takla Desert?"
According to Quentin, the Takla Desert was one of the Alliance's most dangerous areas. Even in the outskirts, you needed Advanced-rank strength just to basically guarantee your safety. To go deeper into the outer perimeter required at least one Pro-level Pokémon to hold the line. Further into the desert, the strength requirements increased exponentially.
In the core region of the Takla, even a Gym Leader-level trainer couldn't guarantee their safety. Especially during a sandstorm, when sand-dwelling Pokémon received a boost, could attack and retreat freely, and usually appeared in large groups. It was terrifying. After all, enough ants could kill an elephant, especially on their home turf.
Following Quentin along the edge of the desert, Basalt's initial excitement gradually cooled, replaced by caution. Quentin's words made him realize that one wrong move could genuinely cost him his life.
Fortunately, with an experienced guide like Quentin, although they encountered a few small sandstorms and an attack by a flock of Skarmory, they made it through without any real danger.
Around 3 PM, Basalt finally reached their destination.
It was a small oasis, like a green ribbon floating on the golden desert, exceptionally striking.
Within the oasis were small houses built from piled stones, all single-story but with surprisingly large footprints, connected one after another, some even with small courtyards.
As they descended, Basalt could already see people bustling about in the courtyards, each wearing thick head coverings.
Besides the people, Basalt also saw many Pokémon. Orange Numel, green Cacnea, gray Nosepass, blue Palpitoad...
He hadn't expected to find such a place in the middle of this vast sea of sand, where humans and Pokémon lived together harmoniously. It was like a hidden paradise.
"That's the village of the Roba Tribe. It's also where our camp is located." Quentin smiled slightly and waved. "Come on, let's head down."
Following Quentin's lead, Flygon and Bronzong began a rapid descent.
However, when they were still about a hundred meters from the oasis, they were intercepted by a group of ferocious, aggressive Skarmory, dozens of them.
"What's going on?" Basalt tensed up.
"Don't worry. These are Skarmory raised by the Roba Tribe. They're their warriors of the sky, and they also act as aerial scouts."
Although the Skarmory flock was eyeing him menacingly, Quentin wasn't afraid. He had his Flygon circle with them a couple of times, like old friends meeting.
"Skarm! Skarm!"
Before long, the Skarmory flock parted, allowing Quentin and Basalt to pass. However, their gazes towards Basalt and Bronzong remained wary.
"Quentin's back?"
As Flygon landed, the people in the oasis, dressed in unique robes that covered almost their entire bodies, regardless of age or gender, all smiled and greeted Quentin.
"Ayag, I brought back the cream cakes you wanted."
"Granny Buya, I bought you a whole big bag of refined salt."
Quentin responded warmly, occasionally patting his dimensional backpack, indicating it was full of goodies. It was clear he was well-liked here. His main task had been to pick up Basalt, but he had also run some personal errands on the side. Living in the desert, far from the city, made many things inconvenient.
Basalt followed behind Quentin, curiously observing the surroundings and the people. If it weren't for the fact that they spoke the same language, he would have thought he'd traveled to a foreign country.
"The Roba People are a tribe living in the desert. Don't be fooled by the small number of people here, maybe just a few hundred. Their entire tribe has nearly ten thousand members, just scattered across different oases."
Quentin seemed to notice Basalt's confusion. "It can't be helped. Each small oasis can only support a limited number of people. To avoid exhausting the resources, they have to practice moderation. It's a way of survival the Roba have perfected over thousands of years. But don't underestimate them. Their tribe has a history stretching back over a millennium, with an unbroken lineage. They possess unique methods for training their Tribal Pokémon, and their strength is not to be trifled with."
"Tribal Pokémon?"
Basalt raised an eyebrow. That was a term he had never heard before.
"That's right, Tribal Pokémon."
Quentin continued walking, nodding. "The Roba Tribe has always relied on their own strength and the power of their Pokémon to survive tenaciously in the desert. Over millennia, they've developed a whole system of Pokémon lineups suited for both combat and survival, which they've continuously strengthened and perfected through generations."
"You probably saw them just now: the Skarmory flock, their warriors and scouts of the sky; the Numel herds, their ships of the desert; the Cacnea groves, their guarantee of water; the Nosepass groups for navigation; the Palpitoad colonies for amphibious needs..."
"This... is quite interesting," Basalt's eyes lit up.
He had a feeling he could learn a lot from the Roba Tribe.
"Maybe after I get settled, I can battle some of the Roba trainers and see if I can pick up any good training ideas."
Basalt made up his mind. His purpose in coming to the Takla Desert, besides obtaining Professor Rowan's research results, was also for intensive training. He wouldn't leave the desert easily until he reached the Pro-level.
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