On the outskirts of Verdanturf Town, a silver-blue tent stood pitched beneath the open sky. A small campfire crackled beside it, smoke curling lazily upward,clear proof that someone was camping here.
"Murkrow, use Drill Peck!"
At Silas's command, Murkrow's beak gleamed silver as it sharpened like a blade.
"Kraaa!"
With a whirling spin, the Dark Crow became a living drill, streaking toward a nearby tree.
Thud! The beak pierced the trunk cleanly, and pale resin oozed out, filling the air with a sweet wooden fragrance.
"Nice work, Murkrow," Silas said, stepping closer. "You're getting smoother with that inherited move. It'll be your main aerial strike later ,keep refining it."
He rewarded Murkrow with a Pokéblock, patting the glossy feathers as the bird cawed softly.
There wasn't much choice but to train out here-the Pokémon Center in Verdanturf had no real training ground. Compared to the bigger cities, this place was still behind.
Still, the peaceful air and scent of wild grass made the spot perfect, and Eevee seemed to love it most of all.
"Eevee!"
The little fox tumbled across the grass, sunlight glinting off her fur, rolling joyfully through the meadow breeze.
But that carefree play only began after her basic drills were done.
Once practice ended, discipline went straight out the window.
Whenever Silas focused on training Murkrow, Eevee puffed out her cheeks in mock anger-her pouty expression so cute it could melt steel.
Across the field, Crawdaunt was practicing Dragon Dance under Silas's watchful eye, his claws slicing through the air with precise rhythm. Everyone was working hard. Everyone except one sulking Eevee.
Ignored and jealous, she flicked her tail, glanced around to see that no one was paying attention, and eyes sparkling mischievously crept toward the deeper forest.
....
Silas, unaware of the tiny escape artist, was reviewing plans.
"The ring championship can stay sealed after ten straight wins… there's no rush to challenge it yet," he murmured.
The final showdown between two ten-win champions,the prize: a rare Ability Capsule that could rewrite a Pokémon's genetic trait. Whoever designed that format was a genius. It saved half the payout while turning rivalry into spectacle.
His thoughts broke off as a shrill buzzing echoed through the trees.
From the corner of his eye, three Dustox darted toward him, clouds of violet powder swirling in the air.
The sweet scent coming from Murkrow's training tree had drawn them in-the resin's aroma was almost intoxicating to wild Pokémon.
"You've got to be kidding… just my luck it's some special sap."
Silas grimaced and snapped a command:
"Murkrow, Tailwind! Crawdaunt, Sharpedo—Aqua Jet! Eevee-Swift!"
Water and wind collided, scattering the Poison Powder. Moments later, the Dustox were down.
Silas flicked three Poké Balls, catching them neatly before crouching by the tree.
He touched the leaking resin with a fingertip and tasted it.
"…Astringent, faint energy signature," he muttered. "Unknown resin. Slight stimulant-likely encourages Bug-type growth. And dangerously attractive to wild Pokémon."
Then realization struck.
"Wait. Eevee should've been first here if there was something sweet to sniff out…"
He turned-no sign of her.
The tent was empty.
A cold bead of sweat slid down his temple.
"Don't tell me…"
After confirming with his Pokémon-each shook their head,Silas's tone hardened.
"Murkrow, search the nearby forest! Stay within range!"
When repeated calls brought nothing, Silas headed into the woods himself. The forest floor crackled beneath his boots; tension weighed on his steps.
For the first time in a while, his normally calm eyes showed flickers of worry.
'My fault,' he thought grimly. 'I spoiled her too much. That ends after this.'
"Eevee!!"
The cry came faintly from deeper within the trees.
Silas froze, then sprinted toward it, branches whipping past his arms.
Sweat ran down his face and dripped onto his shoes as his heart hammered faster and faster.
He burst into a small clearing and stopped.
Eevee sat on the ground, trembling and crying miserably.
Opposite her stood a young man in a dark adventurer's outfit, his expression cold as stone.
"Tch. So it already has a trainer," the boy muttered with irritation. "Figures."
Silas's shadow fell over them. His face darkened. He knelt, flicked Eevee lightly on the head.
"And what did I say about running off, huh?"
The little fox yelped and leapt into his arms, burying her face against his chest.
Her tiny paws clutched his jacket, sobbing uncontrollably-apparently, the stranger had thrown Poké Balls at her seven times trying to "catch" her.
The tension in the clearing thickened.
The cold-eyed boy studied Silas quietly, realization dawning that the Eevee he'd been pelting was already someone's partner.
He exhaled and straightened.
"…So that's how it is."
Then, with a curt nod, he said, "My name's Reggie."
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(End of chapter)