After taking a short rest, Silas pressed onward into the cave, his lamp flickering faintly against the slick stone.
Each step drew him deeper into the dark, where the air grew heavy, damp… alive.
"Yoyo~!"
Castform's cheerful cries echoed ahead, her tiny body bouncing in midair.
The deeper they went, the more humid the air became and the more excited she grew.
Silas frowned thoughtfully. 'Not a trap, then…'
His eyes narrowed. 'Something down here's calling to her.'
His lips curved slightly. 'Could it be… a Water Stone?'
He followed the sound of rushing water that grew louder with every step. The Pokémon they met along the way were growing stronger, too – each encounter fiercer than the last.
Two wild Pokémon, both above level 20, fell swiftly to Crawdaunt's claws.
The crimson crustacean was thriving - his level had climbed to 35, a milestone that came slowly once a Pokémon passed the early 30s.
"Not bad," Silas muttered, glancing at his partner. "All that training's paying off."
He knew well how tough it was to improve past this point. Ordinary Pokéblocks barely moved the needle anymore.
Most trainers would've been satisfied just keeping their team well-fed.
But Silas? Never.
He needed more - stronger formulas, sharper growth.
Unfortunately, his own Pokéblock-crafting skill wasn't yet high enough to make mid-tier Dark-type Pokéblocks.
So, for now, he bought them.
Thankfully, his Breeders' Guild membership granted him a tidy discount.
Even Murkrow had reached Level 20, his combat instincts honed razor-sharp after countless battles beside him.
From somewhere deeper inside came a rhythmic sound — drip… drip… glug!
Water dripped steadily from the walls, splashing over jagged stone. The air thickened with mist, and the ground underfoot gleamed damp beneath his boots.
Good thing he wore his expedition-grade gear; the anti-slip soles let him move easily through the uneven ground.
The tunnel widened gradually, shaped like the neck of a gourd - narrow at first, then swelling open as he advanced.
And then… the passage ended.
Silas jogged forward, blinking in awe.
Before him stretched a vast underground river, nearly ten meters wide.
The roaring current crashed against submerged rocks, flinging droplets high into the air.
A faint shimmer rose from the water - wisps of steam, swirling upward like living spirits.
The Poké Ball on his belt began to shake.
Silas smiled faintly. "Go ahead."
A burst of red light flashed, and Castform emerged. She twirled in the warm air, chirping gleefully as she floated above the river, her body spinning and shimmering.
Steam drifted upward, drawn toward her like threads of silk.
She absorbed it joyfully, tiny vortexes forming around her.
Silas stepped closer to the river's edge, eyes glinting as he studied the sight before him.
Steam rose in ribbons toward the ceiling where, impossibly, rows of sky-blue icicles hung like glass needles.
They pierced the ceiling like frozen spears, glittering faintly in his lamp's light.
Silas dipped a hand into the river and flinched.
"…Warm?"
The shock faded quickly, replaced by wonder.
"The top's freezing cold… but the river's hot."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "A world of ice and fire."
He took in the phenomenon with fascination.
Up above, icy stalactites dripped into the river below, each droplet cooling the surface just enough to birth steam – which then rose again, touched the frigid ceiling, and froze once more.
A perfect, natural cycle.
A self-sustaining ecosystem of weather.
"No wonder Castform's mastery of weather moves was so high…" Silas breathed.
"Living here… she's been soaking in the essence of climate itself."
He extended his palm, feeling the strange energy swirling through the air - faint blue and red hues blending like the breath of two opposing elements.
"Yo!"
Castform floated close, her round body glowing softly. A gentle suction pulled from her form, drawing the colored mist into herself.
"Absorbing ambient energy, huh?" Silas murmured, fascinated.
He grabbed a few empty bottles from his pack -sturdy glass containers meant for preserving samples and began capturing the drifting vapors.
One by one, he sealed them tight.
When the last bottle clicked shut, he stared down at them, mind racing.
'This… isn't ordinary moisture.'
He held a bottle to the light - the contents shimmered faintly, pulsing between azure and crimson.
'This is raw atmospheric energy… pure climate essence.'
A grin spread across his face.
"If I had a hundred Castform living here… they could absorb this vapor, train their transformations, and master every weather pattern under the sun."
He chuckled under his breath, half in jest, half in awe.
"Imagine it - an army of Castform, one hundred strong… Rain, Sun, and Hail working in perfect unison."
His eyes gleamed.
'The power of a thousand weather Pokémon. Maybe even rivaling Kyogre's storm itself…'
The thought sent a thrill down his spine.
Absurd, yes. But not impossible.
He finished bottling the last traces of colored air and wiped his gloves clean.
"Still," he muttered, "if this river's a hot spring, maybe it connects all the way to Lavaridge Town."
He paused, thinking aloud. "The town's famous for its open-air hot springs… or maybe it's influenced by Mt. Chimney."
That volcano wasn't far from here -a dormant beast with lava veins running beneath the region.
Everything here made sense.
Hot magma below, icy drafts above - the perfect birthplace for a Castform.
Silas kept walking along the riverbank. The current glowed faintly in the torchlight, flickering like liquid glass.
As his gaze swept the water, he caught glimpses of movement - ripples, fins.
"Feebas… Magikarp…" He sighed. "Of course."
Common, adaptable, stubbornly ordinary.
They could survive in anything - clean, dirty, hot, cold. Nature's true survivors.
He spent hours exploring, mapping, collecting notes.
When he finally looked up, it was already the next day.
No signs of people. Not even footprints.
"This place…" He exhaled slowly. "A perfect hideout."
Greed stirred quietly in his chest.
The thought of keeping this hidden paradise to himself - untouched, unknown – sparked something fierce inside him.
"If the cave entrance is the only way in or out," he mused aloud, "then sealing it off could keep this place secret forever."
He smirked faintly.
"I've never been one to pretend I'm a saint."
His voice echoed softly through the cavern.
"I look after myself first. Always have."
He glanced once more at the glittering ceiling of blue ice, the steaming river below, and the tiny Castform twirling in joy above it all.
"This cave…"
His eyes darkened with quiet possession.
"…is mine now."
The river murmured back, the steam whispering like an oath between man and nature.
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(End of chapter)