In the end, Ethan grabbed Houndour by the scruff just in time and saved the bedsheets from being scorched.
After a bit of wrestling, Houndour finally calmed down—on the condition that the golden gemstone would be his. Ethan promised it was for Houndour, just not yet, and only when the timing was right. With that, Houndour stopped threatening to burn the house down.
Compromise secured, Ethan narrowed his eyes at the light screen floating in the air and pulled up the gemstone's details. At the same time, another thought nagged him: I need to line up some "interesting" opponents for Houndour. If he sits around idle, he might decide my house is the opponent.
Houndour, meanwhile, sprawled blissfully across Ethan's bed, eyes closed, imagining the glorious future where he wore the golden gem, swept all before him, and finally became the Sun God.
Young. Still too young. He had no idea he was ringed by Ethan's malice.
Ethan opened [Backpack] again, tapped the gem's box, and a description slid into view:
[Seed of the Sun]: Refined from the legendary power of Solgaleo. Long-term wear can grant certain Pokémon the potential to wield solar power. The exact manifestation (Sunlight, Solar Flame, Solar Might, etc.) depends on the Pokémon's own understanding.
A sudden what-if hit him. If I hadn't handed in that Solgaleo Z crystal and had the Goldfinger break it down, would this Seed have been larger, purer?
He had another inference too: the Larvesta egg had clearly held a huge amount of Ancient Energy, but the Goldfinger hadn't detected it at first—likely because the legendary-grade energy masked it. By contrast, the Goldfinger pinged the ancient fossil at the Rock Gym from afar because the fossil's Ancient Power wasn't concealed.
Even if he'd missed out on more Ancient Energy (and a purer Seed), Ethan wasn't that disappointed.
First, a Z-Crystal like Solgaleo Z is out of his league—maybe unique in the world. The Alliance would never stop searching just because it went missing.
Second, Houndour probably couldn't handle a purer Seed yet anyway. He's still small; even this Seed needs processing before it's safe to use.
Lastly, there are plenty of ways to earn Ancient Energy; no need to cling to that hot potato. Besides… isn't there a whole set of ancient fossils embedded in the Rock Gym's façade?
Lincoln had no idea that while he was bending over backward to help Ethan, Ethan was already eyeing his house.
Ethan opened [Exchange]. With his new theory in mind, it was time to try something fun.
"I want an accessory that can limit the energy output of the [Seed of the Sun]."
The blue vortex spun; several light-points blinked in answer. A dialog appeared, listing all matching items.
Mega RingMega Wristband…Mega Ankle Band
Anything that could seat a Mega Stone could also seat the Seed. Ethan chose a Mega Ring—collar style—for 200 Ancient Energy.
A circular portal irised open. He hopped aside—collars hurt if they clock you.
Somewhere else, a little somebody stirred:
"Finally, something I can help with… Lemme borrow your Wish power… scoop… there it is."
In a Free Alliance accessory lab, a small hand slipped through the air and plucked a metal collar off a display stand.
Back in Ethan's room, a black metal collar tumbled from the portal.
He killed the Goldfinger UI, picked up the collar, and inspected it. Two to three kilos, unknown alloy, matte finish—low-key and sturdy. Set into its center was the Seed of the Sun. Beside the gem sat a dial like a small clock face, and a side button to set the needle—controlling how much energy the Seed would emit.
Right now the needle pointed at 0, so the Seed was fully restrained: no leakage, no environmental change.
"Houndour, behold the treasure I found for you!"
Once he'd figured out the controls, Ethan strutted over and presented the gift.
Houndour gave the collar a disdainful glance, turned away, and ignored him. Wear a collar? Was Ethan out of his mind?
"Heh. Very good."
Ethan smirked. The dog's path grew narrower.
He nudged the button, moving the needle to 1—one percent output.
Invisible sunlight washed the room. Ethan felt nothing—but Houndour did. His ears shot up; he sprang from the bed and stared at the "ugly" collar as if it were paradise. So the Seed was set in there?
A smart dog knows when to bend. He padded over and rubbed his head against Ethan's pant leg.
"Heh. Licking dog. Smell good?"
"Lubi!" (It smells amazing!)
After a few conscience-bruising, tail-wagging antics, Houndour got his wish. The collar clicked around his neck.
He flopped back onto the bed in bliss, basking in constant sun-warmth. It felt like sunbathing—only the sunlight was feeding him, changing him from the inside out. Getting stronger while lying down? Heavenly.
All praise to that egg.
All praise to Ethan.
Ethan was about to sleep when Houndour, drunk on sunlight a moment ago, suddenly snapped alert—lips peeled back, glaring toward the window.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"…Seriously?" Ethan muttered. Who knocks on a window at midnight? And with that much force—are they trying to get me to replace the glass?
He drew the curtains. A cute head tilted at him from the sill—and behind it, five Sentret stood in a tidy line.
"Why didn't you go back to the deep forest? Why'd you come here?"
Grinning, Ethan popped the window and ushered them in one by one: Furret, followed by five Sentret.
"Lubi!" Houndour bared his teeth, very much not welcoming the six brown devils.
Furret ignored him. The five little devils stood up balanced on their tails, grinning like thugs, circled Houndour, patted his head, and then pointed at his collar.
"Lubi… lubi! (Hands off, tail-rats! If you break Lord Dog's treasure, none of you can afford it!)"
…
"Lubi… lubi. (Don't smack my head! Get away from me! My house doesn't welcome you!)"
The pitiful yelps echoed through the night.
After a round of "friendly pats," Houndour was chased into a corner and didn't dare protest again.
Under Furret's lead, the five Sentret formed a neat queue, all bright-eyed, clearly waiting to be fed.
Ethan half laughed, half cried. He hadn't expected the foodies to track his house. Had they tailed him back last night?
It was too late to cook, so he pulled canned fruit from [Backpack], poured big bowls for each of the six, and handed them out. These canned blends were lab-bred stand-ins patterned after tree fruit—less nutritious, but plentiful and perfect for humans (and, evidently, visiting forest dwellers).
They gobbled with blissed-out smiles and half-closed eyes.
Ethan couldn't help a laugh. These six were really something—obsessed with human food.
He also set a bowl in front of the bullied Houndour. After one small taste, Houndour sniffed, shot a look of pure contempt at the six "country bumpkins," and turned away.
He didn't care for human food. Pokémon food was superior; indulging in tasty but low-nutrition human snacks was the mark of the unfed and uncultured.
"Lubi… lubi? (Country bumpkins, mesmerized by this?)"
A Sentret glared, scooped Houndour's untouched bowl with his little hands, and split it among his brothers.
"Lubi… lubi! (Tsk—enjoy my leftovers!)"
Dessert demolished, the six showed no intention of leaving. Furret curled on Ethan's bed, and the five Sentret piled shamelessly beside Houndour to sleep.
Houndour's face twisted. He wanted to bite the freeloaders—but seeing those short hands and long tails, he swallowed it.
"Lubi…" (Help?) He looked to Ethan.
Ethan pretended not to see. Forest buns were cute; why chase them out?
With the room full of Pokémon, Ethan rubbed his chin. Other people caught partners one by one. Why did a whole warren come to him? Was he… the chosen one?
—
Morning came. When Ethan's parents saw the line of Pokémon behind him, they were baffled. Where had their son found a nest of them?
Ethan explained, then asked them to help prep breakfast for the six. After eating, he took all seven out for the morning run.
Since there was no longer any point hiding that Houndour was his first partner, Lana was out training with her Alolan Persian too. She blinked at Ethan—the Pied Piper of woodland fluff.
"Brother Sheng, where'd you pick up so many Sentret? And there's even a Furret. Are they all yours?"
"I met them a bit ago. You remember the forest chaos two nights back? They'd already fled the deep woods before that. I fed them a few times… now they won't stop sticking to me."
Ethan smiled helplessly. It seemed the Sentret family had no plans to leave. Was he about to end up with six new partners?
Furret rolled herself into a ball and lounged on a boulder while Ethan and Lana chatted. On the path, the five Sentret, Houndour, and Alolan Persian worked through their drills.
Since they'd agreed to co-train and cross-check ideas, Lana used the chance to coach while asking, "What's your plan next?"
"Living off the land—training deeper in the forest. And don't underestimate my six tail-standers. Their move-sets will make you drool. Once we learn from them, Houndour and your Persian will have a lot more lines to play."
Lana arched a brow and stroked Furret's plush fur. Furret stayed languid, eyes closed, not reacting at all.
Lana shot Ethan a look: This adorable lump? You expect me to drool over her moves?
Ethan shrugged. "Don't believe me? Watch and see. Also—I've still got a tent set up on North Mountain. I'm planning to camp out again."
Lana nodded, already thinking through how to prep for wilderness training.
—
Because he couldn't reveal [Backpack], the morning's departure was comedy: Houndour and the Sentret family lugged assorted bags down the road with Ethan.
Ethan only carried a laptop and a change of clothes; he figured Lana wouldn't really camp, so he brought the bare minimum.
When they met up, Lana stared at his fully kitted squad and finally believed he was serious about a long wilderness stint.
"Brother Sheng, I ordered a tent. It'll arrive in a few days—then I'll join you."
Ethan scratched his head and offered an awkward, polite smile. "Lana, living rough for a long stretch isn't ideal for a girl. Think it through."
She missed the subtext entirely and answered solemnly, "Don't worry. I'm not some pampered princess. I can stick it out."
"…Alright then."
If Lana joined, he'd have to be careful. Inconvenient, to say the least. At minimum, he couldn't use [Backpack] openly anymore—and he'd need to trek back to the village every few days to resupply.