Pikachu looked up at the group with big, glistening eyes, tilting its head adorably as its long ears flopped back and forth.
If someone offered you ten billion, could you still bring yourself to hit this little cutie?
Darrick stared at the Pikachu, then slowly lowered his gaze to the wooden stick in his hand. He turned around with a deadpan expression and fixed Antilly with lifeless "dead-fish" eyes.
"I'm going to need a reason."
"Do you really need a reason to hit a monster? Just hit it!" Antilly cheered, pumping her fist.
"Remember—when you strike, you need killing intent! Pure malice works too. Don't think of it as chasing it away or sparring. If you do that, it won't work." She spoke with strange seriousness.
…What kind of bizarre rules were these?
Darrick exhaled helplessly. "If you don't give me a proper explanation, I'm not doing it. I'm not attacking a monster that hasn't attacked me first."
"Geh… such a pain."
Antilly scratched her head, frustrated. "Yesterday when I tried to explain, you were too busy feeding your wolves to listen. Now you want reasons again? You're so high-maintenance."
She gave Roger a pat. "Hey, Beast Mage, explain."
"Oh." Roger cleared his throat, holding a cocoa fruit still attached to a branch. "The reason we brought you here is to test a rumor. Supposedly, if you attack the peaceful monsters here in the Gourmet Zone, it triggers a punishment event—a powerful monster descends from the sky to kill the attacker."
"Also, once the punishment is triggered, the next time you enter the Gourmet Zone, all monsters will attack on sight. Come back a third time, and things return to normal."
He casually tossed strange fruits and herbs into his mouth while explaining:
"But the details aren't consistent. Some people attacked monsters with no punishment, others triggered it—but different monsters appeared. It seems the punishment creature depends on some trait of the attacker."
"That's why we need your help."
Darrick nodded, finally understanding—though he couldn't stop the complaint running through his head.
Why didn't you even flinch when she called you "Beast Mage"? Creepy. You're never setting foot on my farm again.
"If some unbeatable monster actually shows up, I'm running," Darrick warned. He knew his limits—dying here was not in the plan.
"Relax, you just need to land one hit. We'll handle the punishment monster," Antilly said confidently.
The real reason they didn't want to hit anything themselves was simple—they didn't want to be hated by the Pokémon. After all, the two had been studying this area for days, and didn't want to ruin their relationship with its inhabitants.
Darrick didn't care about that. As long as his wolves didn't hate him, he was fine.
Ideally, they should have tested this with multiple people—but why only bring Darrick?
Because Roger had already convinced several others to test it, and they'd noticed a pattern. However, those testers were either Bronze-ranked or civilians.
Darrick was the first high-tier combatant.
Would a Silver-ranked adventurer summon a stronger punishment monster? They wanted to know.
"Remember—strike with malice!"
"…Got it," Darrick replied flatly.
He looked at Pikachu, whispered a silent apology, and charged forward with the wooden stick.
But having malice was easier said than done. What normal person could feel hatred towards a Pikachu?
He tried imagining Pikachu as a slime—no good. As a Darkwraith—still no good.
"Pika!"
Startled, Pikachu whipped around with an Iron Tail. Darrick barely dodged it.
"This isn't working. How am I supposed to do this!?"
Closing his eyes, dark memories surfaced—flames, twisted laughter, humiliation. His heart tightened with killing intent as he swung the stick down.
"Woom—"
The air rippled. Space behind him warped and twisted, as if something massive was forcing its way through.
Pikachu flinched and fled. Darrick's wooden stick hit the ground instead.
If one looked closely—even if Pikachu hadn't dodged, Darrick had held back at the last second.
"It's coming, it's coming!" Roger gripped his staff and rapier, staring at the forming silhouette. "Kid, get away from there!"
Just as he suspected—the stronger the adventurer, the stronger the punishment.
Darrick didn't hesitate. He leapt back as the monster's form solidified.
A massive humanoid figure, with thick, mineral-like arms and a body forged from unknown ore. Its presence practically screamed "hard as hell."
[Golem Smith]
[Overall Combat Rating: D+]
The moment it materialized, the Golem raised a burning stone hammer and charged straight for Roger.
"Never seen this kind before," Roger muttered. He immediately cast Invisibility and vanished. "Can't wait to see what the Hunter's Manual says about you."
The hammer smashed into the ground, stone exploding outward. Rattata scattered, Fletchlings took to the air, and Digletts dove underground.
The once-peaceful Gourmet Zone erupted into chaos.
"Clang!"
Roger's rapier struck the Golem's side—only chipping off a few rock fragments.
"So tough!?" Roger blurted. That thrust could pierce normal stone golems—yet this barely counted as damage.
The Golem swung again. Roger rolled across the dirt, barely dodging.
"You're already struggling, Mage," Antilly muttered, rummaging through her pouch before pulling out two small spheres—Pokéballs.
"Go! Take it down!"
With a flash, two monsters burst out, lunging at the Golem.
Antilly's Pokéballs did not contain Pokémon—they held her own bred monsters.
After her "friendly negotiations" with Roger, she'd learned about Pokéballs—how they miniaturized monsters and, more importantly, suppressed their aggression.
Yes, they could still snap or attack their owners—but with training and companionship, even that could change.
Turning uncontrollable beasts into tame, teachable creatures…
It was revolutionary.
To beast tamers like her, the Pokéball was a miracle.
Normally, they could only command artificially bred hybrids—weak in strength and ferocity—or use magic to forcibly control wild monsters.
Keeping a battle pet was risky—it could injure you, get stolen, or be targeted by enemies.
But with Pokéballs, she could store them safely and summon them only when needed.
Beast tamers were a dying trade. Now, Pokéballs could bring their profession back to life.
Antilly had already written letters to beast tamers across the kingdom—soon, they would flood into Bedford City.
What she didn't know was that deep in the Sein Dungeon lay something even more extreme: the Pal Ball, capable of forcible brainwashing.
It was so overpowered that Wade had only left one prototype—buried deep inside a forest.
"Raaaagh!"
Her two beasts latched onto the Golem—
—only to immediately roll around howling in pain.
Their teeth shattered.
"You've gotta be kidding…" Antilly stared, dumbfounded.
She threw another Pokéball—this time releasing a flaming bird monster.
A crossbreed of a Flame Pine Bird and a normal bird—physically frail, but capable of spewing fire.
If physical attacks didn't work, use magic—basic adventurer logic.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Fireballs exploded across the Golem—
—but caused even less damage.
Antilly's expression twitched. Reality was falling apart.
Then—Darrick leapt into the air, sword raised, and brought it down on the Golem's head!
Surely that would work!
The Golem's head cracked slightly.
Darrick's sword snapped in half.
Another weapon gone in just a few days. His face spasmed.
Slashes, stabs, magic—nothing worked.
The Golem, hammer blazing, looked like an indestructible war god.
How were they supposed to fight this thing!?
Roger and the others ran for their lives, chased all the way out of the Gourmet Zone.
When Roger glanced back, he screamed:
"WHY IS IT STILL CHASING US!?"
They sprinted, dodging monster after monster, barely clinging to life.
If any of them had been weaker, they'd be dead.
Only when they reached the Firelink Shrine did the chase finally end.
Everyone collapsed around the bonfire, gasping, too exhausted to speak.
One shared conclusion echoed in their minds:
If you don't mess around, you won't die.
"What… now?" Roger wheezed. "Are we still… raiding?"
"There's still time…"
Darrick lay face-down by the bonfire, barely alive, but his eyes burned with resolve.
"Today… I'm taking down that Darkwraith."
Roger and Antilly exchanged glances. Exhausted as they were, a deal was a deal—they'd help him after he helped them.
"No problem, kid," Roger said weakly, thumbs up.
"You've got my staff and sword."