A day had passed since each of them had met with their mentors. The group hadn’t gathered since—everyone needed time to process. For now, they were scattered across the training fields, each focused on their own Pokémon.

  “Gabe, use Rapid Spin!”

  Gabe immediately launched himself into a spin, barreling toward a large boulder—and for the first time, he shattered it.

  He paused, then broke into his signature victory dance, spinning on one foot like a malfunctioning Beyblade and shouting, “Drillllll, Drilburrrr!”

  Ben grinned. “Yes, buddy! You’re the strongest! Ready to go back to digging training?”

  The moment Gabe heard the word digging, he dropped everything and started burrowing like a possessed jackhammer.

  “Don’t forget the Ground TE!” Ben shouted after him.

  Gabe popped his head back up, eyes wide with guilt, an awkward smile on his dirt-covered face that clearly said, Oh right. That part.

  Next to Ben, Nathan was in the middle of yet another negotiation with his Pokémon.

  “Tana, I know you don’t like how the lighting in this field isn’t focused on you, but this is a public training area,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I already got the message—no contests. Fine. But you still need to train. Your dramatic hatred of the lighting angle isn’t a good enough excuse.”

  Tana gave a haughty bleat, “Maaaa, Mareeep,” which Nathan—after weeks of translation practice—interpreted as: It’s agreeable… but you really should let them know how magnificent I am.

  Nathan sighed, clearly losing this battle. “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to someone about adjusting the lights. Now can we go back to Thunder Shock training?”

  Mareep nodded regally, having won what she considered the battle of the century, and promptly began charging a Thunder Shock—aimed, with surgical mischief, right at Reed’s unsuspecting Starly.

  “Nathan, can you control your drama menace and not try to blast Star every five seconds? Type matchups matter, and a Thunder Shock straight to the feathers isn’t a learning experience—it’s a lawsuit,” Reed snapped.

  “Sorry, man. Tana, stop trying to zap Star! What is your problem?”

  “Maaaaaa,” she bleated haughtily, which loosely translated to: He’s boring. I don’t like him.

  Nathan just rolled his eyes and tried to refocus. Tana, for once, allowed training to resume without actively plotting murder.

  Reed, seizing the rare moment of peace, called Star back with a sigh of relief.

  “Thank Aru that menace finally chilled out.”

  Star chirped cheerfully, “Staaa, Starly!”

  “Yeah, I know you’re glad too. Still, gotta admit... dodging lightning bolts is great agility training.”

  “Starlyyyy.”

  “Okay, okay. Message received—no more training with Tana.”

  Amy was doing push-ups alongside Hiro.

  “Twenty… twenty-one…”

  “Mak, maku. Makuhita,” Hiro grunted, keeping pace effortlessly.

  By the time she reached fifty, Amy collapsed onto the mat with a groan, catching her breath. Hiro, still going strong, looked at her mid-rep and asked, “Makkk?”

  “I stopped because I need a break,” she panted. “I know you love it when I train with you, but I’m human. I don’t have super strength or Type Energy, okay?”

  “Makkkk maku!” Hiro snapped back, like, That sounds like an excuse.

  “It’s not an excuse, Hiro,” she muttered, as if this was a regular conversation and not one she was actively losing to a fist-obsessed potato in boxing gloves.

  Hiro liked training with Amy. A lot. He still didn’t fully understand the difference between humans and Pokémon. As far as he was concerned, Amy was just a really smart, slightly squishy Fighting-type.

  When he finally accepted her surrender, he wrapped up his push-ups and moved on to palm strikes, practicing them with single-minded focus.

  Meanwhile, Amy grabbed her little notebook, wiped sweat from her forehead, and began scribbling observations about Hiro’s movements. Every few lines, she glanced over at her friends and their Pokémon, quietly watching all the strange little interactions unfold.

  John was training with Emberly, as usual.

  “Use Ember!”

  Without hesitation, Emberly trotted over, found a random piece of wood, and blasted it with a burst of flame.

  “Poooonyyy!” she neighed proudly, watching it burn.

  “Yes, I know,” John said with a grin, admiring the tiny fire. “It really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Po pony,” she agreed, nudging him affectionately as he rubbed her head.

  “John!” Mr. Boon’s voice thundered across the training field.

  John froze.

  “We’ve talked about this several times,” Boon snapped, marching toward him. “You do not light things on fire in the training grounds! One more time and I’m sending you to the principal. Do you understand me?”

  John nodded, sheepishly.

  Emberly, however, was not having it.

  “PONYYYYTAAAAAAAAAA!” she shrieked in defiance, stomping the ground like she was about to set him on fire.

  “And control your Pokémon!” Mr. Boon added, voice tight with frustration.

  John gave another quick nod, awkwardly brushing Emberly’s mane to calm her down while whispering, “Okay, okay, no more artistic fire appreciation... for now.”

  After another chaotic training session, the group finally gathered in their usual spot. They hadn’t talked since meeting their mentors. Everyone had needed time to process. Now, the silence was over.

  “So... can anyone actually talk about what happened?” John asked, leaning forward with thinly veiled excitement.

  Amy shot up like a spring. “Yes! Yes, I can! She was amazing! Daisy Oak is my new idol.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  She practically bounced with enthusiasm. “She said she’d pull some strings so I can be a lab assistant for a full year before I start my journey. That means I’ll begin at seventeen—after you guys—but with way more experience!”

  “Congratulations!” the group chimed in. Genuine awe filled the air.

  Becoming a lab assistant to the regional professor before even starting a journey? That was rare. One of the few positions that granted early clearance without needing badges—but even then, the League only allowed it for one year.

  Amy gave a little bow. “Thanks, everyone.”

  Then Nathan spoke. “Told you, Ben. Mine was a Blackthorn. Didn’t even try to hide it. But... he helped me, actually.” He crossed his arms. “Johto isn’t weak like Mr. Boon makes it sound. Sure, their Gym Circuit isn’t as harsh as Kanto’s, but their Victory Road is brutal. Even the Blackthorns avoid it sometimes. Most trainers use their Conference Points to do Victory Road elsewhere—it’s that bad.”

  Ben nodded. “The Hunter told me something similar. He said if I want to be fully prepared, the best path is Kanto’s Gym Circuit and Johto’s Victory Road.”

  A beat of stunned silence followed. Everyone stared at him, like his words hadn’t quite registered.

  Two of the hardest challenges for rookie trainers... just to get ready?

  Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Ben... are you sure about your path?”

  Ben’s voice didn’t waver. “More than ever.”

  The others looked at him for a long moment, letting the weight of that answer settle.

  Then John frowned. “Wait. Back up. What did you mean when you told Ben, ‘a Blackthorn’?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Nothing. Just... the day before my meeting, I told Ben I bet they’d send a Blackthorn. They’re the most loyal clan to the League in Johto. It made sense. The school would never send someone neutral.”

  “Of course not,” John said quickly. “Why would they? We live in one of the League’s most important towns. I’m still shocked they even allowed a priest here.”

  Nathan’s gaze sharpened. “Maybe they wanted to show how the region really operates—and not how the League sees it.”

  John scoffed. “They are the League. The way the League sees things is how it operates.”

  The tension sparked immediately. Nathan leaned forward. “That’s what they want you to think.”

  Before the argument could spiral, Amy clapped her hands loudly. “Okay! Enough! I get that you two have, like, opposing belief systems, but can we not turn every group meeting into a battlefield?”

  They both grumbled but backed down.

  Ben took the opportunity to steer the conversation. “Reed, what about the priest? Did he give you permission to talk?”

  Reed looked up from where he’d been quiet the entire time. “Yeah. He did.”

  Everyone perked up.

  “But…” Reed glanced away. “The school told me not to share it.”

  Of course they did.

  Nathan and John said it at the exact same time—each with completely different meanings.

  Ben didn’t want to turn the group chat into another battlefield. Everyone was already on edge, and arguing wouldn't solve anything. But still… something about it didn’t sit right.

  The Cult Hunter never mentioned the Church directly—just their age, their methods, and a warning about the Crusaders. At the time, it had felt weird. Like the guy was skirting around something. But now, with the school clamping down on what Reed could say? Yeah, it made sense. The hunter knew this might happen. Maybe that’s why he only gave vague answers—just enough to set the tone, not enough to get shut down.

  Ben’s thoughts drifted back to something Mr. Boon had said ages ago. “The League allows the Church to operate because it gives people hope.” But now Ben wasn’t sure if that was the truth… or just another clean version of the story they were all supposed to believe.

  So many questions. Almost no answers. At least not while he was still stuck in this school.

  He pulled out his notebook, flipped to a blank page, and started writing. Just a few bullet points. Names. Questions. Doubts. He didn’t know when, or how, he’d find the truth—but he was going to. One day.

  And when he did, he’d be ready for it.

  Meanwhile, the teens weren’t the only ones having a meeting.

  Their Pokémon had gathered in a corner of the training field for something far more important: unfiltered chaos.

  “Check out my new dance move!” Gabe shouted, spinning wildly on his claws like a caffeinated drill bit. He’d recently figured out how to reinforce the ground with Ground TE—just enough to stop himself from creating a crater every time he practiced.

  Star chirped from above, flapping in rhythm. “Go Gabe! Go Gabe! Move those claws!”

  Hiro, always in coach mode, clapped enthusiastically. “Yes! That’s it! Stronger hands mean stronger punches! Build that muscle, buddy!”

  Off to the side, Tana rolled her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they didn’t dislocate.

  “Oh please,” she scoffed, fluffing her wool. “Could you not fling dirt into my coat? Some of us take pride in our appearance, you feral little ground-mutt.”

  Naturally, Gabe took that as an invitation.

  “Oh, I can control the dirt,” he said, grinning—and promptly kicked up an even bigger spray of dust directly at her.

  “Maaaaaareeep!!” she screeched, stumbling back and firing off an irritated Thunder Shock in retaliation.

  The bolt hit Gabe, who—unfortunately—found it more ticklish than painful.

  “D-d-d-Drill! Drillburrr!” he wheezed, curling into a ball as he dissolved into helpless laughter.

  From her perch, Emberly watched with scathing disgust.

  “Who let this thing out of its burrow?” she muttered. “Has Ben never taught it manners?”

  Star narrowed her eyes. “Oh? And you’re one to talk? You try to set things on fire just to prove a point.”

  “Yeah,” Hiro added, smirking. “Why burn things when you can just punch ‘em?”

  Emberly sighed deeply, as if the sheer weight of existing next to idiots was too much. “I am surrounded by morons. Fire is elegance. Fire is passion. Fire is—”

  And then, to demonstrate said elegance, she fired a small Ember directly into Tana’s wool.

  Everything stopped.

  Tana froze. Her wool smoked.

  Her face darkened like a gathering storm.

  “…Maaaaa... MAREEEEEEP!!”

  In a flash, she let out a furious Discharge, electricity surging in every direction. The lighting dimmed as sparks flew across the field like a miniature thunderstorm.

  Star shrieked and took off skyward.

  Hiro winced and braced for impact, muttering something about “resistance training.”

  Gabe was too busy wheezing from laughter to even notice he was being electrocuted.

  Emberly stood frozen, singed and frazzled, eyes wide with disbelief.

  “…Okay,” she coughed, blinking through the static. “Maybe I… slightly deserved that.”

  Tana stood at the center of the carnage, wool now fluffed to astronomical proportions, faint sparks still dancing across her cheeks. She blinked slowly, then muttered, “What? I said I’m royalty.” And immediately passed out.

  The humans came running seconds later.

  Nathan sprinted to Tana, scooped her up in a panic, and returned her to her Pokéball without a word before bolting straight to the PokéCenter. No questions. No delays.

  The rest of the group stood frozen, staring at the blackened patch of ground where the queen had last stood.

  All eyes turned slowly to Emberly.

  “Po… ponyta,” she muttered with zero remorse.

  John translated for her with an apologetic shrug. “She says they disrespected fire, so she gave them a lesson in warmth.”

  Every human and Pokémon in the group facepalmed simultaneously—except Emberly, of course, who looked incredibly pleased with herself.

  Ben groaned. “Man, you really need to talk to her. Gabe might be a little hyper, but at least he knows not to go over the top. She just demolishes the top.”

  Amy and Reed both nodded solemnly from the side.

  John let out a long sigh. “I thought joining her in the chaos might help calm her down... turns out I’ve only made her worse. I’ll talk to her. Again.”

  “PONYYYYYY!” Emberly snapped, stomping her hooves. “You don’t control my fire! My fire burns for justice!”

  Ben shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sure the PokéCenter staff loves that.”

  After things finally settled, the teens recalled their Pokémon and headed to the PokéCenter. No one said much—everyone was sore, shaken, and a little singed. Discharge wasn’t a move rookie trainers—or their barely trained partners—were meant to deal with.

  But they’d taken it. Somehow.

  Mr. Boon was already there when they arrived.

  He didn’t yell. That made it worse.

  He just looked at John—not angry, not loud. Just disappointed in that crushing, teacher-who’s-given-up-on-you way.

  “I warned you. One more accident, and there’d be consequences. The moment Emberly’s discharged, you’re meeting with the principal.”

  John nodded once. No argument. What was there to say?

  While the nurses moved quickly, Mr. Boon checked over everyone, especially Tana and Star.

  Tana had fainted from overexertion. The wool queen had overdone it—again. Her fluff still held faint static as she rested in the recovery wing, like a stormcloud on standby.

  Star had taken the worst of it. As a Flying-type, he had no business tanking an Electric move straight on. Only his constant training to dodge Tana’s drama outbursts had saved him. Even then, he looked like he’d flown through a thunderstorm and come out a little extra crispy.

  Even Gabe was singed. Ground-type or not, baby fur still caught fire.

  Then there was Hiro.

  Hiro had taken the Discharge head-on.

  He hadn’t dodged. He hadn’t flinched. He had just stood there and let the electric wave roll over him like a motivational speech.

  Now he sat in the waiting room, arms crossed, steam still rising off his hair like a burnt marshmallow.

  “Resistance training,” he muttered proudly, despite the faint smoke coming from his eyebrows.

  Amy didn’t even argue. She just handed him a bottle of water and made a note in her journal:

  "Find safe alternative to Hiro's insane voltage tolerance."

  The group sat quietly, the scent of ozone, singed wool, and burnt feathers lingering in the air.

  Only Tana remained inside, still unconscious under the gentle hum of a healing pod. Her wool was twice its usual size. She looked peaceful. Innocent. Completely unbothered by the fact that she’d nearly electrocuted half a room.

  No one said it aloud, but the thought lingered:

  They were so not ready for this.