Re-entering the cave, Ethan suddenly remembered what Mr. Carter had said the day he came home.
Could the abnormal heat around the village be from this egg? If so… what kind of terrifying Pokémon is inside?
By phone light he studied the red-striped egg. Up close, the crimson veining looked like magma lines.
He lifted his wrist and scanned it with the bracelet.
A result flashed into his mind. His brows shot up.
"…No way."
The readout gave him only a name—no Ability, no level, no egg moves, no learned moves.
Maybe eggs only resolve to a species. No full data until hatch?
He opened the detailed report. A few minutes later, he exhaled with a mix of awe and regret.
It was a Volcarona egg.
Not a literal god, but a Pokémon once worshiped as the sun—its flames said to replace daylight when ash choked the sky. Ancient people treated it like a deity.
The bracelet's notes were brutal: the mother was extraordinary—Elite/"Heavenly King" tier by estimate. The father was suspected to have been blessed by a Legendary and had passed that blessing on.
That union gave the egg power enough to change the local environment even before hatching.
But the same blessing that made it wondrous… also ruined it. The report said the "sun's power" was too intense. Even down the bloodline, the solar force overwhelmed life. The shell held no embryo—just yolk and albumen.
A dead egg.
"…could fry it in a pan," Ethan muttered darkly.
"Houn! Houn!"Houndour whined up at him, eyes shining with fierce want.
The report had spelled it out: the Legendary "favor" was a solar power. Fire-types—especially a future Mega Houndoom with Solar Power—would crave it. The egg's stored energy matched Houndour's nature and could massively shape its future growth.
Ethan's chest tightened. Houndour had been perfect all day—obedient, brave, and patient. It had held itself in check until Dad was safe, and only now did it ask for a reward.
But giving the egg meant… eating it. Raw. That turned Ethan's stomach.
He crouched and rubbed Houndour's head, a little guilty. "You're still too young. That much energy could burn you out. We'll save it. When you're stronger, we'll use it right. Okay?"
Stalling—partly to let his conscience catch up to the real Pokémon food chain (Pidgeotto hunt Caterpie; that's nature), and partly because the report warned a same-type consumer should be at Gym-leader caliber to fully absorb that much solar charge.When Houndoom could Mega Evolve, when it understood Solar Power inside and out—then they'd do it right.
"Houn…" The little hound grumbled—resentful, but ultimately accepting.
"Good boy."
The egg's shell wasn't scorching—just warm, the perfect winter handwarmer. Ethan lifted it from the dais…
…and froze.
Beneath the egg, set into the stone, lay a narrow orange crystal—three to four centimeters long. At its center, a black sun emblem.
He knew it instantly.
Solganium Z.
Cause and effect snapped into place.
So that "Legendary blessing"? This Volcarona pair had stolen Solgaleo's solar power—or at least siphoned from its domain.
If it were a benign "favor," why would it damage the recipient?And why would a tightly-controlled Z-Crystal be here of all places?
The cave was clearly newly dug; the egg hadn't sat long—otherwise deeper-range Fire- or Bug-types would've come to devour it.
The egg suddenly felt hot in his hands. He was in a whirlpool now. A wrong move and a top-tier power would crush him flat.
"Houn!"
Houndour rumbled low, pivoting to face the tunnel mouth, hackles up.
Kra… kra…Stone cracked behind Ethan. The heat seemed to vanish—or maybe that was just the cold sweat along his spine.
Stay calm. Breathe. You're a nobody; bluffing won't save you from a tiger.
Either a high-tier Volcarona was returning… or a top trainer hunting this Z-Crystal.
He steadied his lungs and turned toward the sound.
A spiral horn broke the surface—then the floor yawned open. A bipedal, armor-plated rhinoceros hauled itself up: a Rhydon.
It spared Ethan and Houndour one flat glance, judged them harmless, then reached down with those stubby arms and pulled up a man in his late twenties.
The man wore scuffed black trainers, compression tights under shorts, a white sport jacket over a sleeveless tee. Bronze skin, cut muscle. A blue headband with a Poké Ball emblem.
"Houn!"Houndour bared fangs and planted in front of Ethan, a low growl rumbling.
"Huh. Someone actually beat me here?" the man said, dusting off.
"Easy," he added, palms open. "Local kid, right? I'm Lincoln Ward, Rock Gym—city branch. Technically Alliance staff. Not here to harm you."
He tossed over an ID and a distinctive Rock Badge in a white-alloy frame. Ethan checked with his phone: legit. Lincoln Ward, heir-apparent to the Aurelia League's world-class Rock Gym. Media: hardworking, gifted, likely successor.
"Houndour, stand down. They're not hostile."
Lincoln's eyes lingered on the pup. "Good partner. Loyal, sharp—lots of upside. Don't waste him."
Even with Ethan's cue, Houndour kept its guard, leaning against Ethan's leg, eyes locked on Rhydon and its trainer.
Ethan returned the badge and ID. Lincoln got to the point.
"You've got a Z-Crystal behind you, yeah? That's Alliance-restricted. No use keeping it. Hand it over and I'll file for compensation."
He scratched his cheek, a little sheepish. "And if possible… the egg too. It's a Volcarona egg—priceless normally—but this one won't hatch. I need it for something. If you let me take it, I'll authorize a top-tier starter for you."
Ethan blinked. That was… unexpectedly straightforward.
He turned, pried the Solganium Z from the dais, and tossed it to Lincoln. "Keep it. I just found it. But the egg—I need that."
Lincoln examined the crystal, pocketed it with care. Ethan's request made him pause, then his gaze slid to Houndour—understanding dawning.
"Ahh. Good eye," he said, impressed. "Saving it to feed a future Mega Houndoom—line up with Solar Power, right?"
"That's not impossible."
Ethan's heart lifted. If he could keep the egg, today would go from disaster to miracle.
"But…" Lincoln pivoted. Ethan nearly dropped the shell. Don't pause like that.
"…the egg's origin is messy. If I leave it with you now, trouble follows you home. Let me borrow it a few days while we clean up the rest. I'll bring it back—and I'll give you some scent-masking gel. After that, whether you keep it is your call."
Trouble—the egg's parents or the Z-Crystal black market. Ethan didn't need details to get the picture.
He said nothing more, just handed the egg over.
Lincoln smeared a neutralizing gel over the shell. "Masks the signature. Government isn't the only one sniffing around. Once we pick up the crew chasing it, I'll return the egg—and leave you a tube of this. What happens next is on you."
He slid the egg into a cloth sling and finally asked, "Your name?"
"Ethan Rivers. Just finished middle school. From the village outside."
"Rivers… got it. Let me pull your file."
He tapped a few keys, then glanced between screen and boy, verifying the photo. Something in the data made him frown thoughtfully.
"To be safe—mind if I see the Poké Ball you're using for Houndour?"
Ethan locked the Ball and handed it over; locked, it couldn't be used to recall.
Lincoln held his phone to the Ball—pulling its metadata.
Ethan's pupils shrank. Oh no.
"There's a problem," Lincoln said flatly, tossing the Ball once in his palm. His gaze hardened. "Why is this Ball blank? No buyer record."
Exactly what Ethan feared.
Alliance-sold Balls are under strict control. Unless it's an off-grid craft from a private force, every public Ball is real-name registered.A Ball records two things: the buyer (always logged) and the holder (can be blank or updated). Ethan's came from the system—of course it had no buyer.
An unregistered Ball is illegal. It would stain his record and jeopardize his trainer future.
Silence pooled in the cave. Lincoln held the Ball, waiting.
Ethan steadied his voice. "I can explain part of it. The Ball itself… I didn't buy it. It was a gift. I didn't know it was unregistered when I used it."
Lincoln studied him a beat longer, then exhaled through his nose. "All right. Here's how we handle it—by the book, and it won't ruin you."
He held up a finger. "One: I confiscate the illegal shell."Another finger. "Two: we transfer Houndour, on record, into a League-issued Ball tied to your ID—right now. It's a legal on-site capture transfer; minors who unknowingly receive black-market gear get amnesty once they surrender the contraband."Third finger. "Three: I file a first-time possession waiver on your behalf. That keeps your record clean."
He met Ethan's eyes. "But we do it properly. No more ghost tech. Agreed?"
Ethan swallowed, then nodded. "Agreed."
Lincoln's shoulders loosened. "Good. I'll issue you a certified Ball, sync it to your ID, and move Houndour's ownership token over. You'll recall and release once so it anchors cleanly. After that, you're legit."
Houndour glanced up at Ethan, tail thumping twice, as if to say: whatever you decide, I'm with you.
Ethan scratched its ears. "Let's do it right."