The adrenaline had burned out, leaving behind the hollow ache of a near-disaster. We'd scrambled further along the cliffs, away from the crumbling ledge and the memory of Vile's men grinning cruelty, finally finding a small, protected alcove. The sea sighed a hundred feet below, a constant, rhythmic breath against the stone. Above, the sky was a spill of perfect, depthless black, punctured by the pinprick light of a billion distant stars. It was the kind of quiet that sinks into your bones.
A small fire crackled between us, a tiny spark of warmth in the vast, cool darkness. The valley beyond was a landscape of shadows and silver, painted by a sliver of moon that hung like a scythe. The weight of it all was finally settling in my chest—the fall, the fight, the gnawing reality that I was so, so far from anything I'd ever called home.
My Butterfree, wings trembling almost imperceptibly, rested on my shoulder, its antennae twitching at the scent of salt on the air. Across the fire, Lila cradled Oddish, which was fast asleep in her lap, its leafy top rustling with each soft breath she took. Between us lay Growlithe. His fur, usually a vibrant orange, looked muted in the firelight. A low whimper escaped him, and his tail gave a weak, half-hearted thump against the packed earth. I saw the memory of the cage, of the fear, flickering behind his eyes.
Leaning forward, I gently placed my hand on his head, my fingers sinking into the warm fur. "You're safe," I whispered, the words feeling heavy and inadequate. I wasn't just talking to him. I was talking to all of them, to myself. "I swear it."
For a long time, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the distant wash of the waves. The silence wasn't empty; it was filled with everything we weren't saying. Then, Lila spoke, her voice so soft it was almost part of the night.
"I've never told anyone this," she began, her gaze fixed on the sleeping Oddish. "Not really."
I stayed quiet, just listening. Back with the Titans, I would have filled the space with a joke, a dumb comment—anything to deflect the heavy stuff. But here, under this endless sky, the usual masks felt thin and useless.
"I want to be a Gym Leader," she said. "A Grass-type Gym Leader. But not like the ones who just care about winning. I want my gym to be a sanctuary, a place where trainers learn that strength isn't about forcing a Pokémon to obey. It's about… nurturing. It's about listening to the forest, to the earth, and understanding that we're all connected. I want to teach people that a bond is stronger than any command."
She looked up at me, a shy, hopeful light in her eyes. "Does that sound silly?"
I felt a genuine smile touch my lips, something I hadn't felt in a while. "No, Lila. It sounds… right. Like something this world needs." I leaned back on my hands. "Why a gym, though? Why not just be a trainer who teaches that?"
"Because a gym is a symbol," she answered, her voice gaining a quiet confidence. "It's a place people look up to. If I can make that symbol stand for kindness and respect for nature, maybe I can change things, even just a little."
She fell silent for a moment, then tilted her head. "What about you, Gar? What's your dream?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. Dream? I hadn't had time to dream. I'd been too busy surviving, first in the jungles of my childhood, then in the shadow of the Doom Patrol, and finally under the giant T-shaped roof of a home that no longer existed for me. I'd had roles: the comic relief, the little brother, the living weapon. But a dream? Something that was truly mine?
I looked out at the dark horizon. "I don't know," I admitted, the words tasting like rust. "I don't really know what 'home' is anymore. Back in my world, I was… a lot of things. A hero, a misfit, a clown. I fought villains, saved the city, ate way too much tofu pizza." A hollow laugh escaped me. "Here… I don't want to be a Titan. I don't think I even can be. I just… I want to find a place where I belong. Where I can make a difference that isn't about punching some bad guy in a cape, but about being someone this world… well, someone it actually needs."
My voice cracked on the last few words. A vulnerability I hadn't shown anyone in years lay bare between us, as exposed as the rock we were sitting on. Lila didn't say anything. She just gave me a small, understanding nod, and in that moment, I felt a little less alone.
A sharp snap of a twig from the path behind us broke the spell.
Instinct took over. I was on my feet in a second, my body coiled, a low growl rumbling in my throat. Growlithe struggled to his feet, hackles raised. Lila shielded Oddish, her eyes wide with fear.
A figure stepped into the flickering edge of the firelight. He was tall, lean, and looked like he'd been through hell and back. His jacket was torn, his face was smudged with dirt, and a long, angry scrape ran down his arm. But his eyes, even in the dim light, were sharp and focused.
It was Rex.
He didn't have his usual arrogant swagger. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a grim exhaustion. This wasn't my rival looking for a fight. This was a soldier coming back from a losing battle.
I relaxed my stance, but only slightly. He stopped a few feet from our camp, his gaze sweeping over us, our Pokémon, and the fire. After a long, tense moment, Lila reached for a spare canteen. She held it out to him, an unspoken peace offering. He hesitated, then walked forward and took it, his fingers brushing hers. He sank to the ground with a tired sigh, taking a long drink.
"I was heading for the coast," he said, his voice raspy. "Figured I'd cut through the foothills near the Corvex range." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I saw them."
"Vile's Men?" I asked.
He shook his head, his expression dark. "Worse. Men in black tactical gear. Sleek, no insignia. Vile's elites. They were loading crates into a massive quarry, one that's been dug right into the mountainside. It looked more like a factory, or a fortress." His eyes grew distant, haunted. "They weren't just transporting Pokémon, Gar. They were… modifying them."
He leaned forward, the firelight catching the tremor in his hands. "I saw a Machoke with a steel-plated arm, gears grinding where its elbow should be. A Rhyhorn with glowing wires woven into its spine. And there was one… I couldn't see what it was, but when it roared, the sound… it echoed. Like metal screaming. Like a machine."
He looked from me to Lila, his usual bravado completely stripped away. "I don't care about badges right now," he said, the words low and intense. "I don't care about the league, or being the best. Something is deeply, fundamentally wrong out there. They're turning Pokémon into weapons. And if nobody stops it… this world won't stay the as the same world we love."
He looked directly at me then, and for the first time, I didn't see a rival. I saw an ally. He saw me not as some green-skinned weirdo, but as someone who understood what was at stake.
His words hit me harder than any punch. No more cages. No more experiments. The mantra echoed in my mind, a ghost from my own past. I stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff, staring out at the dark horizon, in the direction of the Corvex Mountains. A purpose, cold and clear, was crystallizing inside me. It wasn't about finding a way home anymore. It was about defending this one.
I turned back to them, my fists clenched at my sides. The weight on my chest was still there, but it wasn't despair anymore. It was responsibility.
"No more cages," I declared, my voice ringing with a conviction I hadn't felt since I first put on a Titans uniform. "No more experiments. I'll protect this world—its people and its Pokémon. If Dr. Vile wants a war, he picked the wrong world to mess with."
Lila stood and walked to my side, her expression resolute. She placed her hand over my clenched fist, her touch warm and steady. "Then we fight together," she said softly, but with unshakeable strength. "No one saves the world alone."
I looked at Rex. He was still sitting, watching us, his face unreadable. He didn't offer words of encouragement or a battle cry. He just gave a single, curt nod. For Rex, that was as good as a blood oath.
A new vow was settling over me, one born not in a high-tech tower, but on a lonely cliffside under a sea of stars. I looked down at Oddish, still sleeping peacefully in Lila's arms. A single, perfectly formed leaf had detached from its head and lay on her sleeve. I reached out and picked it up. It felt cool and alive in my palm.
Carefully, I took a thin vine from a pouch on my belt and tied the leaf around my wrist, creating a simple, makeshift band. It was a flimsy thing, just a piece of plant matter against my skin, but it felt as real and as binding as steel.
It was a promise to protect life, to nurture growth, to defend innocence against the cold, hard metal of Vile's ambition.
"The Green Promise," I whispered, the name coming to me as naturally as breathing.
This wasn't a hero's mantle passed down to me. It wasn't a uniform I could take off. This was a choice. My choice. Here, on the edge of a world that wasn't mine, I had finally found my purpose. The moonlit path ahead was dark and dangerous, but for the first time since I'd arrived, I knew which way I was going.