With the Cortondo Gym badge still warm in his bag, Jason and company were already at their next stop: Artazon Town.
Unlike the commercial cities they'd passed through, this place was a different world. The whole town felt like an open-air art museum, its residents treating art as a way of life. Sculptures made of flowers, plants, and metal lined the streets—every shape you could imagine. In the center, a giant windmill-petal sculpture turned slowly, sunlight scattering into ribbons of color. The air carried a mixed perfume: fresh grass, loamy earth, and the faint tang of paint.
For Gast—used to lurking in the shadows—this bright, lively vibe was torture. She looked miserable, drifting beside Jason with undisguised disdain: "This place has terrible taste—so gaudy. Ugh."
Iron Valiant, walking behind, glanced at her and offered a flat review. "Someone who can't appreciate art."
Gast shot back a face at it—but the robot didn't react at all.
Miraidon couldn't care less about the artwork. Practical things mattered more. It craned its head toward Jason on its back. "We're… challenging another gym, right?"
Jason nodded.
At the word "gym," Miraidon's electronic eyes lit up. "Let me try this time?" it said, a little excited. The cheers at Cortondo, after Gast's win, were still ringing in its memory. As a legendary, it wanted to feel that adoration for itself.
Jason couldn't help an eye roll. Yeah, right. With Miraidon's power, challenging a starter gym would be called one thing: bullying. It could probably flatten the whole place in one move—where's the fun in that?
He didn't pop its balloon, though. He still had no plans to field Miraidon or Iron Valiant in this one. The point was to toughen up Gast—raise the Gengar's combat ceiling—and quietly add to his own Pokédex progress. The joy of being a Ditto was fighting in all sorts of forms; that was the fun.
So he explained patiently: "Don't rush it. Gyms are just the appetizers. After this come the Elite Four—and the Champion. You'll have plenty of chances to go wild. I promise."
Miraidon tilted its head, then decided that made sense. Beating weaklings wasn't fun; better to fight the strongest. It agreed to the plan.
They followed the art-stuffed streets and soon found Artazon's gym. The building itself was a giant artwork—bold colors and abstract patterns splashed across its façade. A painting hung by the door: a forest bursting with life—probably the gym leader Brassius's signature piece.
Jason pushed the door open. Inside was a cavernous studio: easels, canvases, paint, sculpting tools everywhere, the smell of paint even thicker.
A tall, thin man stood with his back to them, sighing at a blank canvas and muttering, "No… this won't do! My inspiration's gone! My artistic life is over! The muse has abandoned me!"
Gym Leader Brassius, obviously—neck-deep in a creative block.
Hearing the door, he turned—and noticed them. His eyes skimmed the team not like challengers, but like curiosities; the gaze was sharp and picky. When it landed on Jason, his eyes brightened—he'd recognized him at once.
"A Ditto? New challenger? Interesting—very interesting." His slump evaporated; he practically buzzed. He circled Jason twice, marveling. "Ditto, Gengar, Iron Valiant… and Miraidon… what a combination!" The artist's soul caught fire. "New inspiration—I can feel it knocking on my skull!"
Jason had met stranger people. This artist-leader barely ranked. He simply stated his business. "Hi. I'm here for a gym challenge."
That unflappable tone only raised Brassius's opinion of him. A challenger with personality could make a battle with soul.
"Of course you can challenge!" Brassius clapped. "But before we fight, you'll need to pass Artazon Gym's test." He pointed outside. "Simple: find ten scattered Sunflora around town and bring them back. They're hiding all over. Go on—find them!"
He shooed them along, then practically ran back to his canvas, brush in hand—apparently fired up by new Ditto-shaped inspiration. "Oh, and seeing a talking Ditto gave me ideas—thanks!"
They left the gym.
"Why not fight right away?" Gast asked. "We're… playing hide-and-seek?"
"Paldea gym leaders are quirky," Jason said with a smile. "You'll get used to it."
For most trainers, finding Sunflora is a sweaty scavenger hunt. For Jason—with Gast—it was a gimme. Or a theme park.
"Gast, all yours," Jason said.
"On it!" She lit up—tearing around town freaking out other Pokémon was her favorite kind of assignment. She vanished the moment the words left his mouth.
Jason strolled after her, taking in the town. Plenty of other challengers were searching too—rushing around, combing behind sculptures and flowerbeds, faces set with focus. Against Gast, their effort was pointless.
Ghost mode: on.
Walls meant nothing; she phased through them, weaving through foundations and rooftops like she'd unlocked the whole map. She spotted her first Sunflora fast—peeking from behind a giant pumpkin sculpture, having the time of its life.
A face swelled out of the wall beside it—Gast's—silent, tongue unfurling with the creepiest grin. The Sunflora froze, blinked… and then screamed to the heavens, leaping three feet straight up before bolting out from behind the sculpture into full view.
"Found one—there!" a nearby challenger shouted, sprinting after it. He barely took two steps before an invisible hand plucked the Sunflora by the scruff, hoisted it into the air, and—poof—vanished.
The challenger stared, rubbing his eyes, baffled.
Gast popped up in front of Jason, proudly dangling her trembling "trophy." "Nice," Jason said. "Keep going."
Praise made her even bolder. Spooking Pokémon? She was a pro.
Cue the highlight reel: She erupted from a fountain, dousing a Sunflora mid-sip. She floated to a rooftop chimney and whispered, "Heh-heh-heh, I see you," into another Sunflora's ear. She swelled into a massive shadow over a patch of sunbathers, giving them a sudden, unforgettable "nightfall."
Screams echoed from every corner of Artazon. Other challengers dripped sweat as Sunflora kept popping from nowhere—only to blink out in a weird ripple a moment later. They didn't catch so much as a leaf.
Jason's side worked like a machine. Ten minutes later, while others still tore around looking for their first, he casually pushed the gym door open with ten shell-shocked, huddled Sunflora trembling in a chain behind him.
Brassius was still brooding at his canvas. He looked up… and froze at the sight of the limp Sunflora queue. One glance at the poor things—heads drooped, leaves hanging—told him they'd suffered serious mental damage. He glanced at Gast hovering by Jason, wearing a shameless "praise me" face—and his mouth twitched.
The artist's intuition told Brassius this Gengar was… a lot. That wicked glee, practically overflowing.
He set the brush down and circled the Sunflora in disbelief. "How long were you even gone?" He looked at the sky, then at Jason. "I just got a spark of inspiration—I haven't even mixed my paints—and you're done?"
Jason spread his hands: facts are facts.
Brassius stared at Gast for a long beat and finally managed, "That Gengar of yours… has real creative potential."
He was clearly fascinated. Jason let it pass. "So the test is done, right?"
"Passed—of course you passed!" Brassius waved away the formalities, eyeing the team with fresh interest. "You and your Pokémon are even more interesting than I imagined. Come—I can't wait to battle."
Artist's passion: instant ignition.
Artazon's arena, like Brassius himself, overflowed with personal style. No sand or turf—just a tapestry of giant colored tiles forming an abstract painting. No standard stands either—odd metal sculptures stood around like frozen thoughts. Sunlight poured through glass skylights, throwing mottled light across the tiles, making the place feel unreal.
Jason, Miraidon, and Iron Valiant took one side. On the other, Brassius stood arms folded, studying Gast as she drifted to center stage—brows knit, gaze disapproving.
"A Gengar that knows Poison moves," he said, a trace of disappointment in his voice. "Poison is a hard counter to my sweet grass-type darlings. Ditto—are you planning to win on pure type advantage?"
He shook his head, tone chastising. "How… unbeautiful. A purely utilitarian tactic."
Gast heard the critique and immediately bristled. She planted her fists on her hips, puffed her cheeks, and pulled the biggest face she could, tongue lolling—pure protest.
Miraidon yawned. The human was wordy. Iron Valiant stayed silent.
Jason looked at Brassius's broken-hearted expression—and smiled. He stepped forward, voice not loud but carrying across the arena.
"Sorry, but I like hitting hard."
"Reverse-matchups and all that? I don't enjoy making things harder on myself."
~~~
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