In the black market, power spoke louder than words.
Most onlookers were left unsettled when Silas's Crawdaunt-already a Stage 2 Pokémon-loomed at his side. After all, Crawdaunt could only evolve at level 30.
In this den of shadows, that alone marked him as a dangerous figure. No one was foolish enough to pick a fight over petty things.
Silas drifted through the crowded stalls, the hood of his robe casting deep shadows across his mask. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a man's gaze lingering on him-then darting away.
Silas sneered beneath the mask. 'So many restless eyes here… and all it took was one visit to a store for someone to mark me?'
He stopped casually at a stall, pretending to examine wares, while his real focus swept the crowd. The tail was obvious.
Silas slipped into the flow of bodies, turned down an alley, then another-vanishing. By the time his pursuers realized, he was gone, slipping through the door of an old, quiet shop.
Inside, the air was cold, business sparse. Most customers were drawn toward rows of glittering PokeBlocks-mid and high-grade, lined up behind glass. But Silas ignored them. His eyes fell instead on the oddities displayed in the corner-strange, rare materials.
'Just what I need.'
He recalled the reward recipe he'd received back at Trainer School: a formula for crafting intermediate Dark-type Pokéblocks. Many ingredients were near impossible to source legally. But here… here they were.
He began picking items, ignoring the stares that followed him
A jagged Houndoom fang.
The preserved heart of a Mandibuzz.
A fragment of a Water Stone, still faintly gleaming.
A crest feather from a Braviary.
Along with crates of rare Berries and unusual medicinal herbs.
By the time he was done, he had spent ₽700,000 Pokédollars. Ignoring the mutters behind him, he strode away with brisk confidence.
'Of course I drew attention again.'
On the market's narrow streets, the feeling of eyes on his back grew heavier. A few figures began trailing him openly. Silas's contempt deepened. 'This place really is a pit of hyenas. Flash even a hint of wealth, and they'll pounce to tear you apart.'
He ducked suddenly into the crowd surrounding a busy vendor. When he emerged, the black robe was gone-replaced by the slim silhouette of a masked youth. Those following him blinked in confusion, waiting in vain for the robed figure to reappear.
Silas moved on, entering a different store-this one bustling, shelves stacked with gleaming Technical Discs. Dozens of masked buyers crowded the counters, flipping through cases and making trades.
Here, his arrival caused no ripple. In the black market, staring too long was a declaration of challenge-and few were so reckless.
Scanning the racks, Silas dismissed most discs. Too common. Too mismatched. But two caught his attention:
TM – Scald (₽400,000)
TM – Taunt (₽500,000)
After only a moment of thought, he purchased both.
"Crawdaunt needs a true special attack," he murmured, fingering the Scald disc. "Bubble Beam isn't cutting it anymore."
The Taunt disc, meanwhile, was for Murkrow. With its Prankster Ability, Taunt would become a devastating tool-perfect for shutting down stallers and defensive Pokémon Silas despised.
(Of course, if he used such tactics, that was different.)
To be safe, he disguised himself twice—buying each disc in separate outfits before leaving.
From there, he wandered further, collecting curiosities. One caught his eye in particular: a strange rotting flower growing from a stone. Even in Rustboro Gym's library, he had never found mention of it. His only guess-it was the first of some new hybrid species.
"Valuable research potential."
He haggled it down to ₽3,000 and slipped it into his pack.
At the black market's base hall, he rented a skill machine. One by one, his Pokémon absorbed the discs. Crawdaunt now bore the power of boiling water, and Murkrow's sharp caw carried new menace.
His fortune of nearly ₽3,000,000 dwindled fast. In just two hours, he had burned through over ₽1,000,000. For most families, it was more than they'd ever see in a lifetime. But for Silas, it was nothing more than investment on the road ahead.
Finally, he located a quiet corner shop and sold off the captured Mightyena. The high-level beast fetched just over ₽300,000. A modest recovery.
High-level Pokémon taken from others were notoriously difficult to tame-most buyers treated them only as temporary weapons, worth far less than a fresh-bred Pokémon raised from scratch.
With business concluded, Silas departed the black market. A successful trip-profits, materials, and new power all secured.
.....
Back at the Pokémon Center, the front desk bustled as always. Nurse Joy glanced repeatedly toward the door, her eyes searching.
When she spotted Silas, her face brightened. Lifting her skirt slightly, she hurried toward him with quick steps.
"Silas-you're finally back!"
He blinked, meeting her anxious gaze. "Nurse Joy? Did something happen?"
Her expression faltered, faintly flustered,still holding onto the sting of his refusal from before. But she steadied herself, pressing a hand to her chest and speaking softly.
"Silas… I just received an urgent call from Petalburg Gym. They're asking for you immediately."
Silas's hand shot to his Pokédex. Sure enough, multiple missed calls blinked across the screen. He hissed through his teeth.
'Tch-forgot I'd shut it off before entering the black market.'
With a curt nod to Joy, Silas turned and rushed upstairs.
<><><><><><>
(Bonus chapter for holloween)
(End of chapter)