Now he just needed one more spark to break the deadlock.
Words alone weren't going to cut it—especially not with a badly wounded, hyper-suspicious legendary.
If he wanted its trust, he'd have to put real proof on the table.
Jason smiled to himself. His "proof" wasn't ordinary.
He stopped talking and let his actions speak.
His soft body wobbled like liquid, then slowly "spat out" several items that glowed faintly and carried a rich, heady aroma.
The secret Herba Mystica he'd won from the five Titans.
The moment they appeared, the air seemed to change.
That strange bouquet—five flavors braided together—carried a hard-to-describe vitality that rolled outward in a wave.
Iron Valiant and Gast both blinked.
They'd expected some high-end human medicine Jason had scrounged up to treat Miraidon.
Instead—five hunks of seasoning?
That could heal?
No one reacted harder than the wounded Miraidon.
As the scent reached it, every cell in its body felt like it woke up.
A hunger from the root of life itself. A fierce yearning for high-grade energy.
It could feel clearly that those seemingly ordinary spice lumps were packed with a power that could repair its damaged core.
Its dim electronic eyes flared bright the instant it saw them.
Doubt and hesitation vanished, leaving nothing but shock—and raw desire.
It was certain: if it could eat them, its wounds would knit at a speed beyond belief.
Sandy Shocks, still standing guard in front, felt that same surge of life energy.
It glanced back; Miraidon's attention had been stolen by the glittering "seasoning."
Jason took in Miraidon's stunned look and was very satisfied.
He'd gambled right.
For a wounded creature, a hundred pretty promises weren't worth putting a miracle remedy right in front of it.
He stepped forward, ready to hand the Herba Mystica over and seal the deal with a legendary—
—and froze.
Thump…
A faint, but distinct tremor rolled up through the sand.
Like something heavy falling far away.
Jason paused, frowning at the ground.
Gast felt it too. "Huh? What was that? An earthquake?"
Iron Valiant snapped its head toward the way they'd come.
Its sensors had picked up an off note.
Miraidon tore its gaze away from the herbs, new wariness floodlighting its eyes.
It forced its head higher, looking to the distance.
Thump… thump… thump…
The rhythm grew clearer, more regular.
Not an earthquake.
Heavy footsteps. A giant trying to tread softly—and failing.
Thump… thump… thump…
Each step landed on their hearts.
The sand trembled in time; whatever approached was huge.
Gast tightened, spectral body going rigid. It floated close to Jason and whispered, voice edging toward a sob. "Jason, that noise… is there something even scarier coming?"
Today felt like they'd kicked a hornets' nest—fight after fight, each one worse.
How many monsters could one stupid desert hide?
Jason was calm. He even smiled, then shook his head.
"I'd bet it's just those two," he said, eyes glinting as he faced the sound. "Figured we'd clash with Miraidon, then they could pick the bones."
Gast blinked, then got it.
Its expression flipped to pure disdain.
"Ugh, so lame. Can't win, run away; then instead of getting stronger, play dirty tricks. No shame."
"I'll go kill them," Iron Valiant said flatly, blades whispering out again, voice iced with murder. Opportunists like that disgusted it.
"Not yet." Jason stopped it.
This time his tone was nothing like when he'd asked restraint with Miraidon.
"Hold up," he said, palm up. "If it's what I think, I won't be merciful."
His voice was mild; the chill under it made even Gast shiver.
Iron Treads and Great Tusk's little plan had crossed a line.
"Gast, Valiant, let's go have a look." Jason waved—and strode toward the sound.
Behind them, Miraidon watched.
It saw the trio walk toward danger. Something complicated flickered in its eyes.
This behavior wasn't what it expected.
Given Jason's guess, Miraidon could figure the newcomers' identities.
It glanced at the battered Sandy Shocks in front of it.
"We'll go too," Miraidon said—still weak, but decisive.
Those herbs Jason produced were too tempting to ignore.
If they truly could heal it, it was willing to deal.
Even if it didn't yet know Jason's price.
It also wanted a closer read on Jason and his companions.
Sandy Shocks worried for Miraidon's body, but obeyed. It nodded and fell in behind, careful and alert.
They ghosted forward, using dunes and rock for cover, hiding their presence in the windblown grit.
Jason's team found a perfect perch quickly.
A big wind-carved rock with a natural hollow beneath just big enough to hide three.
Soon, Miraidon and Sandy Shocks crept up too, tucking themselves behind the neighboring dune, only half a head peeking to watch.
Two camps, side by side, unknowingly sharing an eavesdropper's alley.
They didn't wait long.
Two massive shapes hove into view.
Iron Treads and Great Tusk.
The pair were tiptoeing—if such bodies could—creeping forward in a ridiculous stop-and-go rhythm.
They'd take a giant step, freeze, cock their heads to listen, then inch another step.
Jason, Gast, and Valiant watched it all, clear as day.
Gast almost burst out laughing; it clapped spectral hands over its mouth, shaking with suppressed giggles.
Jason could only stare.
Yes. They were here to scavenge.
"You sure it's this way?" Great Tusk muttered, voice a chest-thumping bass even held low.
"Obviously," Iron Treads snapped, glaring around. "Miraidon's that way. You think I'd be wrong? You, on the other hand—can you walk softer? Your steps are a parade."
"I am walking soft!" Great Tusk groaned. "With this body, what do you want—catwalk?"
"Enough." Iron Treads flicked its huge head, annoyed. "We're close. Stay sharp."
They crept a bit more; only the wind hissed over sand.
Great Tusk sniffed with its trunk. "Weird. Not a peep. Shouldn't they be fighting by now?"
Iron Treads frowned. "Yeah. Too quiet. Maybe they haven't started?"
"Or maybe they're done?" Great Tusk guessed.
"No." Iron Treads cut that off. "If it were over, we'd hear it. Either the winner howls over the territory, or the other side celebrates. Either way—not this quiet."
"So what then?" Great Tusk asked.
Iron Treads pondered, then offered its "brilliant" analysis: "Standoff. Feeling each other out. Inside one's wounded; outside those three are strong. Once it starts, it goes to the bitter end."
"Makes sense." Great Tusk nodded, impressed.
"Which is great for us!" Iron Treads' optics glittered. "We wait. Let them beat each other bloody—then we stroll out and finish it. That Miraidon, and that damned Ditto—both die."
Visions of vengeance lit it up.
"Right!" Great Tusk rhino-snorted, tusks carving the air. "When I catch that Ditto, I'm going to skewer it like a sieve, then stomp it to paste!"
"Paste's too easy." Iron Treads sneered. "I'll keep it alive. Make it transform into whatever I want… and then heh heh heh…"
"Good idea!" Great Tusk's eyes gleamed. "And that Gastly? Floaty, loud, annoying."
"Make it scout. If something kills it, that's luck."
"And the Valiant! Most hateful—hits hardest. Once it's tired, I'm snapping those glowing blades."
"Snap them."
Behind their rock, Jason's face had left "speechless" far behind and gone to "stone-cold."
"Pff—"
Gast couldn't help it; a tiny laugh squeaked out.
Iron Treads' "plan" was one it had joked about itself more than once.
It slapped spectral hands over its mouth, shaking uncontrollably.
"I can't—Jason—I can't hold it—are they stupid?" Gast sent, the mirth spilling out. "Do they think we're deaf? Plotting out loud like this, practically inviting us—"
Jason didn't answer.
Valiant was silent too—but at some point its grip on its blades had loosened.
Facing foes like these, even its battle-lust couldn't get going.
All brawn, no brains.
On the other side, hidden behind their dune, Miraidon heard every word as well.
A bitter cold flashed through its optics.
Two nobodies daring to dream of capitalizing on its fight—and daydreaming about playing butcher with that Ditto.
Ignorant of life and death.
It hadn't thought too much of them before. After all, it had invaded their turf and driven them out; grudge was natural.
But now it changed its mind.
These two fools needed a lesson they wouldn't forget.
Just then, Miraidon felt a gaze.
It turned—meeting the beady Ditto eyes peering over the rock.
On that blank little face, Miraidon read the message as clearly as text:
Shall we?
~~~
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