The next morning, Silas set out once again.
He wasn't in a hurry to create the poison. His current preparation plan still included a type of Pokéblocks cube he had been developing - sun and Rain.
It wasn't finished yet, and with no proper facilities or materials available out here, further research was impossible anyway.
"Still," he murmured, watching the pale sun climb above the dunes, "if I happen to run into any Poison-type Pokémon, I can harvest some toxins to reinforce the Black Sludge. Even weak traces might boost its potency."
The Black Sludge he carried was clearly a low-grade variant - the toxins inside were so diluted that they'd barely affect Pokémon above level thirty.
By infusing it with fresh venom samples, he might strengthen it enough to restore its original corrosive power.
That was part of his plan.
Unfortunately, there were few Poison-types in this wasteland.
Hours passed without a single sighting. The desert teemed mostly with Ground- and Rock-types.
After cresting another sand dune, Silas paused to study the terrain.
Even this small desert, nestled between the plains, was considered one of the region's natural "forbidden zones."
That wasn't an exaggeration.
The danger wasn't only in the heat or thirst.
The ground itself hid death.
Many patches of sand were deceptively smooth -nothing unusual on the surface, but hollow beneath.
Sometimes these pits were the collapsed nests of powerful Pokémon.
Other times, they had once been used as incubation sites by entire species.
Some were natural. All were deadly.
The hollows could stretch five or six meters deep. Step in the wrong place, and the sand would swallow you alive before you could scream.
Silas, ever cautious, never advanced blindly.
He tested every few meters with his Pokémon's abilities - a routine that made his progress painstakingly slow but ensured survival.
"The only upside," he muttered dryly, "is that there aren't many wild Pokémon here. No ambushes. No detours."
He had chosen the direct route -cutting straight across the desert.
It was faster, and truth be told, a small part of him wanted to experience every terrain firsthand.
This one, at least, was new.
As he trudged on, something unusual broke the endless monotony -a single ancient tree rising from the dunes.
It was small, twisted, completely withered -not a leaf left alive.
Yet, Silas could feel something strange about it. His instincts as a breeder told him this was no ordinary dead plant. Perhaps a desert variant evolved to survive the impossible.
"Murkrow," he said, "Drill Peck. Take a sample."
"Kraaaaw!"
The dark bird swooped down, chipping off a sliver of bark with surgical precision.
Silas collected it, sealed it in a specimen vial, and stowed it in his backpack for later study.
He then checked his Pokédex. The glowing map showed he was already halfway across.
"If the readings are right, I'll be out of here by nightfall."
Still, he didn't let his guard down. Years of survival had burned vigilance into his instincts.
As he advanced deeper, the Pokémon population began to increase -signs that he was nearing the desert's inner ecosystem.
He saw Diglett burrows first - easy to recognize from the raised mounds dotting the sand.
They dug shallow tunnels, only a meter or two deep.
But Sandshrew were another matter entirely.
They burrowed deeper, faster, and were masters of hiding. Detecting their tunnels was nearly impossible.
As a result, Silas moved carefully, commanding his team to probe the ground ahead with their skills before every step.
Even so, a few mischievous Sandshrew tried ambushing him from below - only to be blasted away by Crawdaunt's scalding hot water.
"Craw-daa!"
Steam hissed as the creatures scurried back into their burrows, defeated.
By noon, the desert blazed like a furnace. Heat waves rippled across the sand, distorting the horizon.
Silas wiped sweat from his forehead and prepared to cross another dune , when suddenly a distant sound cut through the silence.
A battle.
Faint but clear -the clash of techniques, bursts of power, and the cadence of shouted commands.
"…A Trainer?" Silas murmured, surprised.
It was rare to find anyone out here. Surviving in a desert required both strength and experience -whoever this was, they weren't ordinary.
He moved closer, careful and quiet, circling the dune to gain a better vantage point.
Boom—BOOM!
The air trembled with the impact of moves slamming into the sand. Dust and grit flew everywhere.
Then, a clear young voice rang out:
"Skarmory! Use Air Cutter!"
Silas's eyes narrowed.
On the sand below stood a youth in an elegant dark-blue suit- far too expensive for desert travel.
Overhead, a Skarmory gleamed in the sunlight, slicing through the air as it unleashed sharp blades of wind toward a struggling Sandslash below.
But it wasn't the boy who caught Silas's attention.
It was the old man standing beside him.
Dressed in black casual wear, his posture was relaxed but his gaze toward the boy carried unmistakable reverence - the kind reserved for nobility.
And beside him stood a Pokémon whose presence alone distorted the air.
Even from a distance, Silas could feel it -raw, crushing power.
A creature resembling a living fortress, with a gray head like a shield of stone and a massive yellow body armored like metal.
A Bastiodon.
Silas's expression hardened. "A Shield Pokémon… and a strong one at that."
The pieces clicked together instantly.
A young master from a wealthy family.
And his guardian.
The old man's respect said everything.
Silas quickly averted his gaze. Watching another Trainer's battle was considered rude and picking the wrong fight here could be fatal.
He began to back away quietly.
But before he could move more than a step, the old man suddenly turned, his eyes flashing like steel.
They locked directly onto Silas's hiding spot.
The youth blinked in confusion. "Uncle sebas, what's wrong?"
The old man bowed slightly to the boy, then smiled faintly.
"Nothing, young master… just a small intruder lurking nearby."
Then his tone snapped cold.
"Bastiodon - use Ancient Power!"
The command cracked through the desert like thunder.
A rumble followed - then chaos.
Massive stones materialized midair, each the size of a small boulder, and launched forward like meteorites.
They came from all directions, forming a deadly web of rock that sealed every escape route.
Silas's pupils contracted.
No time to dodge.
"Protect!!" he roared.
A flash of green light enveloped his team.
Then impact.
The world exploded in dust and sound.
The ground beneath his feet caved in, the dune collapsing as the boulders struck.
Sand surged upward in violent spirals, forming a miniature sandstorm that tore across the plain.
The shockwave sent waves of heat through the air and when it finally settled, only silence remained.
The boy in the suit frowned, watching the devastation.
"…Did we overdo it?" he murmured.
The old man didn't answer immediately.
As the last of the dust cleared, movement appeared in the crater.
Silas knelt on one knee, breath steady but strained.
Beside him, Umbreon, Crawdaunt, and Murkrow stood battered but alive, their bodies glowing faintly from their recently deployed Protect.
They'd managed to withstand the strike -barely.
Silas exhaled, eyes cold and calculating.
That casual attack had nearly leveled him.
Whoever these two were… they weren't to be underestimated.
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(End of chapter)