"Boom!"
The blast echoed across the empty heart of the desert.
In Garchomp form, Jason brought a brutal Dragon Claw down on Sandy Shocks, flipping the hulking mass onto its back and kicking up a storm of iron sand.
A massive claw-print crater smacked into the ground. Sandy Shocks lay in its center, plating cracked in several places—obviously hurt badly.
"Done, right?" Gast drifted over from a safe distance; it had been hiding far away, afraid of getting clipped by the crossfire.
Jason didn't answer, eyes still locked on the fallen Sandy Shocks.
Iron Valiant held its stance too, blades still bared. It clearly didn't think things were so simple.
Sure enough, a second later the supposed KO case shook its head, braced its limbs, and forced itself upright again.
Its gaze was still fierce, fixed on Jason and Valiant, a low growl rumbling out.
"What… is with this guy?" Gast gaped. "Beaten up like that and it can still stand? Does it carry a dozen potions around?"
That was the fifth time Sandy Shocks had gone down and gotten back up again.
Each time its injuries worsened—but it refused to back down.
Jason canceled the Garchomp form and flowed back into Ditto-pink.
He eyed the stubborn Paradox Pokémon, then frowned slightly.
Turning to Valiant, he murmured, "It looks like it's guarding something—won't let us get any closer no matter what."
Valiant nodded. A normal wild Pokémon, seeing the gap in power, would have run or yielded by now.
But this Sandy Shocks stood like an unmovable mountain in their path and wouldn't give an inch.
"In that case…" Jason's gaze sharpened. "We end it for good."
He stopped holding back and began to change again.
Valiant read him perfectly. The ground dented under its feet; it flashed and lunged.
Facing the full-force charge of two far stronger opponents, Sandy Shocks didn't budge.
It loosed a thunderous roar, poured everything into its limbs, and met their strike head-on.
Clang!
With a brittle metal crack, the armor that had held so long finally shattered.
The massive body flew back like a severed kite, skidding a gouge through the sand before slamming down at the base of a dune.
This time, it didn't get up.
Iron filings spilled all around; its core energy wobble dropped to a whisper.
Silence settled.
Gast floated over and poked it gingerly. "Hey… still alive?"
No response.
"Looks like it's out for good," Valiant said, retracting its blades and stepping up.
Jason dropped his form, too. Looking at the KO'd Sandy Shocks, he felt little triumph.
Whatever it was guarding, it wasn't attacking out of malice. It had just been trying to do its job.
"Come on. Let's see what it was protecting," he said.
Skirting the downed Paradox, they pressed deeper into the dunes.
They didn't get far before they stopped dead.
In the middle of a relatively flat stretch of sand lay a Pokémon.
Miraidon.
Its violet body gleamed with a metallic sheen under the sun; the sleek lines radiated future-tech cool.
And yet it looked battered.
Gashes marred its frame, plating in places split to reveal tangled internals. Where energy lights should have glowed, its eyes were dim.
It was sprawled along the dune, chest rising and falling—moving at all looked painful.
"I… I'm not seeing things, right?" Gast's voice wobbled. "That's… Miraidon?"
The name of the future legend needed no introduction. Gast had never imagined they'd meet it here—and like this.
Jason froze too.
He'd expected treasure, or maybe a powerful boss—but Miraidon?
No wonder the Scovillain had said something worse than Iron Treads and Great Tusk had shown up. Against Miraidon, those two were small fry.
Jason pulled himself together.
An image flashed—Area Zero—the thunderous escape.
"It's him…" he murmured.
He recognized it: the same Miraidon they'd glimpsed bolting from the depths when they first entered the crater, already wounded.
He'd told Top Champion Geeta; the League had searched a while with no luck.
Who'd have thought it had holed up in this isolated desert, licking its wounds alone.
"Makes sense," Valiant said, surprised despite itself. "It ran because the injuries were this bad."
Jason had told it the story; seeing the damage up close was something else. What kind of foe had hurt a legend this badly?
Their presence didn't go unnoticed.
Miraidon jerked its head up, electronic eyes suddenly sharp with wariness.
It tried to stand, but the wounds held it down.
"Bzzt—"
Pale-blue arcs crackled around its body—unstable, dangerous.
A warning: don't come closer.
Jason saw its state at a glance. This wasn't a battle posture; its core was damaged—those arcs were ugly.
Days had passed and it still looked like this; the original injury must have been brutal.
"Easy—we're not here to hurt you!" Jason raised his hands, voice soothing.
For a badly wounded, hyper-alert legend, words weren't much. The wariness didn't fade; the electricity flared.
Valiant glanced at Jason, then stepped forward. Data streamed through its optics as it slipped into combat analysis.
If talking failed, it would win the fight—and then explain.
"Wait!" Jason caught its arm.
Are you kidding? It's Miraidon.
Hurt or not, who knew what aces it had left? You don't escalate with a legendary unless you have to.
"Why?" Valiant asked flatly.
"Let me try," Jason said.
The standoff stretJasond—until a listing silhouette wobbled over a nearby dune.
Sandy Shocks.
Armor still split, limping hard—pitiful to look at.
But its eyes were as steady as ever.
It ignored Jason's group and went straight to Miraidon, putting its scarred body between it and them.
It turned its head, guilt and weakness in its voice. "Sorry… I couldn't keep them out."
Miraidon looked at its battered shield; something gentle flickered in those dim eyes.
It gave the faintest shake of the head.
"It's fine. Not your fault."
Weak, but clear.
Now that it was close, it recognized Jason and Gast. They were the ones who'd dared the crater and lived.
Whatever their exact strength, these two weren't simple.
Sandy Shocks' failure made sense.
Recognition didn't erase caution. If anything, the intruders seemed even more likely to be here for Miraidon.
Sandy Shocks, reassured, turned back and glared at Jason—posture screaming it would fight to the last.
Miraidon, too, strained to draw on its reserves, trying to stand and face them together.
The air crackled tighter.
Then Jason spoke, voice quiet but carrying. "What if I said… I can treat your injuries?"
Miraidon froze.
For a heartbeat, confusion washed through its optic glow.
Heal it? What nonsense was this Ditto spouting?
No one knew its condition better than it did. That battle deep in Area Zero—yes, it had escaped, but at a savage cost.
Core damage. Self-repair crippled.
It had hidden here for days, drawing in energy without rest—and recovered barely a third.
Even the best Pokémon Center in Paldea would need heavy resources and time to manage this.
And this little Ditto claimed it could fix it?
Impossible.
Its first impulse: disbelief. Maybe this was a ploy—entice it to lower its guard, then strike.
The arcs around it flared again—hotter, wilder. A warning growl rose in its throat.
Sandy Shocks made the threat plain. It dragged itself forward again, tightening the shield wall around Miraidon with its battered body. Those fierce eyes said plainly: one twitch, and we fight.
"Jason, are you serious?" Gast bobbed close, whispering for their ears only. "Don't talk yourself into a corner. This is Miraidon. You said it's terrifying. If you piss it off we're going to be desert decorations."
The ghost was rattled.
Boasting in front of a god—looking for a short life?
Iron Valiant said nothing, but the subtle shift of its stance said everything: it was ready for whatever happened next.
And yet, under the drawn wire of the moment, something shifted in Miraidon.
It looked at Jason's bland Ditto face. For some reason… it didn't feel like a lie.
Those little bead eyes held a hard-to-name confidence.
It remembered, too, that first meeting in the crater—this Ditto had been with human women.
Humans.
Miraidon's feelings toward them were… complicated.
It distrusted their greed and ambition. But it knew they were also capable of real kindness—and had tools and techniques beyond understanding.
Maybe—just maybe—this strange Ditto had learned something from its human allies. Something that could help.
Once the thought appeared, it grew like weeds.
The will to survive made it reluctant to throw away even the slimmest chance—even one that sounded absurd.
The hostility in Miraidon's optics ebbed a fraction, replaced by scrutiny and hesitation.
It neither attacked nor relented; it sank into a tense, troubled quiet.
Jason read the change and knew: it was wavering.
~~~
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