"Let's stop here. Any higher, and it'll get too dangerous."
Silas stood atop a jagged boulder, gazing up at the towering form of Mt. Chimney.
The dormant volcano stretched over 1,500 meters into the sky.
He was barely 400 meters up still far from the summit, yet already at his physical limit.
Even at this altitude, the wild Pokémon were no joke.
Most ranged between level 20 and 30, and going any higher would mean facing foes above level 40.
From the map, Mt. Chimney didn't look that big.
But standing here, surrounded by burning winds and rumbling rock, Silas finally understood its scale-massive, suffocating, alive.
He was already short of breath,not just from the climb, but from the thin, heat-heavy air.
The volcanic gases and drifting ash made it hard to breathe.
"Murkrow, clear the air for us," Silas said.
The Pokémon whipped up a low gust, dispersing the dust as Silas adjusted the oxygen mask he'd brought along.
The mountain's ecosystem surprised him. It wasn't just Fire-types-Mightyena packs stalked the ledges, Machop tribes trained along the ridges, and even species from other regions wandered among the stones.
"Not many loners around here," he muttered. "Makes sense. You either stick together or you burn alone."
By nightfall, Silas found a patch of exposed ground streaked with red mineral veins-perfect for making camp.
After a day of skirmishes and training, his team was exhausted but stronger; Murkrow had leveled up again, reaching level 22.
He was just setting up his compact tent when a flicker of orange light caught his eye–a fire burning somewhere higher on the mountainside.
"…That's odd." His brow furrowed. "I cleared that area earlier. There shouldn't be any wild Pokémon left."
Instantly alert, Silas glanced at Murkrow. The bird nodded silently and took flight.
Silas packed away his gear, his every movement controlled and quiet.
In the wild, the first rule of survival was simple,never camp near something you can't explain.
The night air shimmered faintly with heat as he crept forward, cloak blending into the shadows.
Following Murkrow's lead, Silas slipped between boulders until the glow of firelight flickered clearly ahead.
Peering from behind a rock, he spotted two figures dressed head to toe in red-faces hidden beneath hoods, uniforms marked with a black emblem shaped like a mountain … or an "M."
Silas's eyes narrowed.
'…Team Magma.'
He pressed his back against the stone, heart steady but alert.
'So the timeline's shifting already', he thought grimly. 'They've begun operations in Mt. Chimney years ahead of schedule.'
He watched as the two Magma grunts barked orders at their Pokémon-two Houndooms circling a battered Torkoal trapped in a ring of flame.
Silas didn't move. His mind worked fast.
Are they an advance team? Scouts? Or already establishing their base?
He gestured silently to his team-Umbreon and Crawdaunt remained still, while Murkrow swooped low around the flank.
Before it left, Silas tied a tiny night-vision camera device to the bird's leg.
Then he crouched low, crawling closer, every step calculated.
The enemy was in the open.
He was in the dark.
It was an advantage he knew how to use.
Especially at night-where Umbreon's eyes glowed sharp and Murkrow ruled the skies.
From his vantage point, faint voices drifted over the roar of the flame.
"Man, you're amazing, boss! Took down a level 30 Torkoal like it was nothing!"
The speaker was young, nervous, clearly new to the organization.
The taller grunt laughed roughly. "Stick with me and you'll eat well. Maybe even get a piece of the loot!"
The smaller one sighed. "Still, why did the higher-ups send us here? It's so damn hot. If my partner's Ice-type wasn't cooling us down, I'd have melted already."
"Who knows?" The older man shrugged. "Heard from the captain we're supposed to be collecting something. That's all I know."
"Collecting? Like what–?"
"Stop guessing," the senior grunt cut him off. "We're already breaking protocol sneaking off like this. Let's grab the Torkoal and head back before anyone notices."
They cleaned up the scene quickly and vanished into the darkness, the captured Torkoal's Poké Ball glinting in the firelight.
Silas exhaled quietly, his pulse steady but his thoughts racing.
So it's confirmed. Magma's migrating here and collecting something.
Meteoric minerals, perhaps. He didn't need to guess; he already knew the lore.
They were after the meteorite fragments that could awaken Groudon.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Relax, Silas. That event's still years off. No reason to get dragged into it now.'
Still, the thought of dozens–maybe hundreds–of Magma operatives scattered across the mountain made him uneasy.
"Heading straight down might be safer…" he muttered. "But if they've occupied every level above four hundred meters, we could run straight into another patrol."
Before he could decide, a flutter of wings interrupted his thoughts.
Murkrow landed gracefully on a nearby rock, the night-vision recorder still tied to its leg.
"Good work," Silas whispered, unfastening the device and playing back the footage.
Two purposes-
First, to confirm if other Magma units were nearby.
Second, to map the surrounding terrain while visibility was low.
The grainy screen flickered to life.
Countless red dots glowed faintly against the black mountain outline. Each one moved.
"…So many?" Silas murmured. His expression hardened. "They're everywhere."
Then something caught his eye-a narrow, unmarked side trail tucked between two rock walls.
A faded wooden sign stood beside it, carved with four faint characters.
He brushed off the soot and squinted through the dim glow of Umbreon's rings.
Fiery Path.
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(End of chapter)