The door closed on the scent of damp earth and pine, sealing Alberto and Trias back into the Ship's sterile light. The Dugtrio immediately shuffled to the spot where it had begun making a small, comfortable depression in the floor—a gesture of ownership. The psychic bond, now clarified by the Speech ability, hummed with Trias's simple contentment. This not-earth is becoming a good den. It smells of you, and of quiet power.
"It's getting there, partner," Alberto said, storing his new supplies in the Pantry. His body ached from three days of constant training, but it was a good ache. His elemental control was no longer purely instinctual. He could now form a shield of interlocked, frozen wood, or superheat a stone in his hand to a molten state before launching it. It was crude, but it was progress.
He stood before the wall of doors. The symbols seemed to pulse with silent potential. The Catalogue's recommendation was clear: seek higher-tier resources. He needed a world with a deep, systemic understanding of magical minerals, where his stones could be appraised, and where he could learn to use them, not just as batteries, but as components.
His eyes landed on a door. It was made of weathered, grey stone, carved with intricate, swirling patterns of vines and mythical beasts. At its center was a symbol: a thorn-circled rose, superimposed over a crescent moon. The Ancient Magus' Bride.
The book by the door was thick, smelling of vellum and ozone. He opened it. The history was not of wars and kings, but of pacts, fae realms, and the slow, deep magic of the land itself. It spoke of alchemists who distilled the essence of things, of sorcerers who bound themselves to spirits, and of a fundamental truth: everything had a name, and knowing that name granted power.
It was a world of subtle, profound rules. Not the explosive ki of Dragon Ball or the regimented chakra of Naruto. This was older. It was about essence, transaction, and respect. Perfect for a man who understood systems and the value of a foundational component.
"This is the one, Trias," Alberto said, feeling a flicker of uncharacteristic trepidation. This wasn't a world of clear-cut battles. A misstep here could be metaphysical. "We're not fighting. We're negotiating. Your job is to feel the earth, tell me what's in it, and look intimidating."
Intimidating is a good job, Trias rumbled agreeably. The earth here feels… sleepy. But deep. Old. It will be interesting to dig.
Alberto shouldered his pack. He took one of the remaining Leaf Stones from the Vault—its essence of vibrant, growing life seemed the most appropriate offering and sample. He focused his intent on a safe, unobtrusive arrival point mentioned in the book: the outskirts of a known magical market, away from prying eyes.
He opened the stone door.
---
The air that washed over him was cold, damp, and carried the rich, peaty scent of the English moors mixed with something else—a sharp, metallic tang of raw magic. He stood in a twilight copse of skeletal, ancient trees. In the distance, the lights of a small, clustered town twinkled. Above, the sky was a deep, velvety purple, stars shimmering with an unnatural clarity.
The first thing he noticed was the pressure. It wasn't physical. It was a weight on his mind, on his new psychic senses, on the very elemental energies in his core. The world was listening. His Wood manipulation sensed the trees around him not as mere plants, but as silent, sentient observers. The Magma in his blood cooled, becoming subdued, wary. The Ice felt… at home, in the crisp air.
He recalled Trias. The Pokémon's presence might be too alien, too disruptive as a first introduction. He needed to scout.
Following the book's directions, he made his way down a winding path to the edge of the town. It wasn't like Celadon. The buildings were old stone and timber, leaning against each other. The sign above the gate read "SILKY'S" in peeling paint, but the book had noted it was a neutral ground for magical beings and practitioners.
He pushed the door open. The interior was warm, smoky, and fell silent. A dozen pairs of eyes turned to him. Not all were human. A small, hairy creature with a lantern sniffed the air from a corner. A woman with eyes like a hawk's tracked his every move. The bartender, a large, imposing man with scars that shimmered faintly, gave him a slow, appraising look.
Alberto walked to the bar, every sense screaming. He could feel the magic here—layered, old, and potent. He placed a single gold coin from his Pokémon earnings on the polished wood.
"Ale. And information."
The bartender poured a dark stout, his eyes never leaving Alberto's. "You're not from the College. Don't smell of the Church. What's your business?"
"Prospecting," Alberto said, taking a sip. The ale was bitter and strong. "I'm looking to have a stone appraised. And to learn about local mineral rights."
A snort came from a nearby table. A wiry man with fingers stained blue and green leaned forward. "Mineral rights? You a dwarf, then? Don't look it."
"I'm a specialist. I find things." Alberto kept his voice neutral. He reached into his pack and, carefully, placed the Leaf Stone on the bar.
The effect was instantaneous. The faint background hum of magic in the pub sharpened. The lantern-creature squeaked. The hawk-eyed woman stood up, taking a step closer. The stone glowed with its soft, internal emerald light, a pulse of pure, condensed vitality that seemed to make the very wood of the bar groan as if yearning to sprout.
The bartender's eyes widened. "That's… not a mere gem. That's a heart. A piece of a forest's heart. Where did you get it?"
"A deep place," Alberto said, covering the stone with his hand, dimming its light. "Is there an alchemist or a sage who can speak to its nature? Properly?"
The wiry man stood, his mocking attitude gone, replaced by avaricious curiosity. "I'm an alchemist. Cartwright. I can tell you what that is."
"I need more than identification. I need valuation. And I need to know what can be done with it."
"Then you need Elias Ainsworth," the hawk-eyed woman said, her voice like grinding stones. "Or his apprentice. They deal in the strange and the true-named. But the magus does not see just anyone. And his price is never gold."
The name sparked in Alberto's memory from the book. The central figure. A non-human magus of immense power and obscure motives. A direct approach was too risky.
"The apprentice, then."
The woman gave him directions to a cottage on the wind-swept moor, near a circle of standing stones. The path, she warned, was watched.
The walk was long and cold. The moor was vast and empty under the huge sky, but Alberto felt anything but alone. Things moved in the corner of his vision. Whispering reeds traced his progress. This was a world where the land itself was alive in a way Trias would appreciate, but far less friendly.
He found the cottage, nestled in a hollow. Smoke curled from the chimney. And there, in the garden battling a stubborn, animated shrub, was a young woman with vibrant red hair and one eye the colour of verdigris. Chise Hatori.
She sensed him before she saw him. She turned, her lone green eye narrowing not with fear, but with a weary, profound understanding. She could see his magic, he realized. His patchwork aura of Ice, Wood, and Magma must look like a frantic, discordant splash against the deep, resonant tapestry of this world.
"You're lost," she said, not as a question. Her voice was soft but carried weight.
"Not lost," Alberto replied, stopping at the garden gate. "Seeking counsel. I was told the apprentice of the magus understands the nature of things."
"I understand that some things don't belong here," Chise said, her gaze flicking to his pack. "You carry a… loud piece of another world. A green, growing shout. It's upsetting the slumber-root." She pointed at the shrub, which was now trembling, sprouting tiny yellow flowers despite the season.
Alberto was taken aback by her directness. He slowly drew out the Leaf Stone. In this environment, its glow was even more potent, a foreign hymn of growth.
Chise inhaled sharply. "A Land-Soul Stone. But… it's not from any land I know. The song is all wrong." She approached the gate, her curiosity overcoming her caution. "May I?"
He handed it to her. She cradled it, her mismatched eyes clouding with vision. "It's… simple. Pure growth. Not tied to a spirit or a geas. Just… potential. It's like a seed containing an entire forest's desire to be." She looked at him. "This is incredibly valuable. And dangerous. In the wrong hands, it could warp a mile of land into a frenzied jungle overnight."
"I have more," Alberto said quietly. "And others. Different elements."
Chise stared at him, seeing him properly now. "You're a trader. A world-walker. There are rumours of such things. Why come here?"
"To learn their true value. Not in gold. In magic. In use. And to see if there are stones here that are… complementary."
Understanding dawned on her face. She was a creature of transaction herself—the Sleigh Beggy, a magnet for magic. "You want to trade. A barter of essence."
"Yes."
She was silent for a long moment, the wind whipping her red hair. "Elias is away. I can't speak for him. But I can tell you this: your stone is a catalyst. It could be used to heal blighted land, or to empower a botanical familiar. Its value is in its purity." She handed it back. "In return for this knowledge, I would ask for something."
"Name it."
"A promise," Chise said, her green eye piercing him. "When you deal with the fae or the spirits of this world, you will be fair. You will not disrupt the balances. We have enough trouble without a stranger planting foreign magic in the soil."
It was a moral price, not a monetary one. Alberto, the man who followed technical manuals and operational protocols, nodded. A rule he could follow. "You have my word. As a Maintainer, I prefer stability to chaos."
A faint, sad smile touched her lips. "Good. Then I will give you a name. In the town, there is a retired alchemist named Master Flamel." She ignored Alberto's jolt of recognition at the legendary name. "He is old and cares little for politics, only for the art. He will appraise your stones fairly and may have things to show you. Tell him I sent you, and that you promised to be fair."
"Thank you."
As Alberto turned to leave, Chise called out. "One more thing. Your magic… it's jagged. You're holding the pieces of different worlds inside you. Be careful. In places where magic has a will, it might try to… reconcile you. And that could tear you apart."
He gave a grim nod, the warning settling cold in his gut. He found Master Flamel in a cluttered, dusty shop that smelled of sulfur and dried herbs. The old man, looking more like a tired librarian than a legendary alchemist, examined the Leaf Stone, then a Fire Stone, with clinical interest.
"Hmm. Exotic elementals. Condensed without ambient spiritual residue. Fascinating." He offered Alberto a selection of local "stones" in trade: a Sylph's Tear (a crystal that held the sound of the wind), a Gnome's Core (a lump of earth that never lost its fertility), and a small, sharp Dragon's Scale Shard that radiated primal authority. In exchange, Alberto gave up two of his Leaf Stones.
"These will serve as better focuses for your innate earth and air affinities than your raw, foreign stones," Flamel said. "They are of this world. They will listen better."
It was his first true multiversal trade. Not for money, but for strategic, compatible assets. As he left the shop, the Sylph's Tear hummed in tune with his Ice, the Gnome's Core resonated with the latent earth power he'd gained from bonding with Trias.
He returned to the lonely copse as true night fell, the standing stones casting long, ominous shadows. He needed to test his new acquisitions. He held the Gnome's Core and reached out with his Wood manipulation towards a gnarled, dead hawthorn tree.
The effect was instantaneous and profound. Where his Pokémon stone provided raw, explosive growth energy, the Gnome's Core provided understanding. He didn't force the tree; he asked the earth to nourish it, and the dead wood shuddered, not with frantic life, but with a slow, deep healing, sprouting not leaves, but luminous lichen and soft moss. It was sustainable. It was respectful.
This was what he needed. Not just power, but integration.
Suddenly, the air grew colder than the night warranted. The shadows from the standing stones lengthened, stretching towards him against the moonlight. A presence, vast and hungry and curious, pressed down on his mind. Chise's warning echoed in his head. Your magic is jagged... it might try to reconcile you.
The entity didn't see a man. It saw a loose bundle of conflicting energies—Ice from one realm, Fire from another, the shout of a foreign Leaf Stone. It sought to make him whole, to grind his parts into a coherent local shape, a process that would annihilate Alberto Cortez.
Panic, cold and sharp, shot through him. He couldn't fight this. It was the environment itself.
He dropped the core and fumbled for the one thing that was entirely,uniquely his: the connection to the Ship. He focused on the Sanctuary, on the sterile, neutral steel, with every ounce of his will.
The door scraped into existence against the largest standing stone, the sound like a knife on slate. The alien pressure recoiled, confused by the absolute otherness of the portal.
Alberto didn't hesitate. He stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the familiar floor as the door vanished, severing the hungry gaze of the ancient world.
He lay there, panting, the Sylph's Tear and Gnome's Core clutched in his white-knuckled hands. Trias burst from its ball, surrounding him protectively.
The deep-old thing! It wanted to chew your bones and remake them! the Dugtrio's thought was frantic.
"It… it did," Alberto gasped, the terror slowly receding. He had gotten what he came for: knowledge, a trade, and a terrifying lesson. This wasn't Pokémon. You couldn't just throw power at a problem. Some worlds required finesse. Some required pacts. And some simply hated anything that didn't fit.
He looked at the two local magical stones in his hand, then towards the Vault, where his remaining Pokémon stones glowed. He had taken the stones out. He had learned their worth. And he had nearly paid the ultimate price.
"We need a middle ground, Trias," he said, voice steadier. "A world where power is straightforward. Where we can train without the landscape trying to eat our souls. We need to get stronger before we come back to places like that."
He stood, a new resolve hardening in his eyes. The next door wouldn't be to a world of subtle magic. It would be to a world of combat. Where stones weren't for alchemy, but for evolution in a different, more brutal sense. A world where he could test his gathered power against challenges that could be fought, not just bargained with.
He knew just the symbol. A hidden village leaf. It was time to see what his elemental arsenal could do against chakra.