Ethan turned—and a hard gust slapped his face. A red-and-white ball, rimmed in crimson light, hovered to a stop before him.
A yellow-furred fox drifted down from the second tier and settled on the floor, cross-legged in midair.
"Lubi—!"
Houndour bared his fangs and stepped between Ethan and the newcomer.
It was the same Cayce that had toyed with him before. For once its perma-dozy eyes cracked open. It glanced at Ethan—and unmistakably smiled.
Under Ethan's puzzled stare, the fox lifted one hand, plucked the hovering Poké Ball from the air, flipped the catch toward him, and held it out.
"Houndour, it's fine—I'll talk to it."
Ethan scratched the pup's head, then met Cayce's gaze."You're…asking me to take you?"
Cayce nodded, eyes slipping shut again.
Ethan's brows jumped. Behind him, Lana clapped a hand over her mouth. Was this what being "chosen" looked like?
He reached—
"Wait. Don't move."
A pulse of light. The cold, violet-eyed woman from the second tier—Lydia Vale—blinked into place beside Cayce, teleportation rippling the air.
"You can take others. Not this Cayce. It already has a master." Her stare slid over Ethan like he was lint. "You're not suitable."
Ethan laughed, all edges."It has a master? Sure—me."
He closed his hand on the ball.
"You dare—"
Raw psychic force crashed over him. Invisible fingers clenched to crush—
—but Cayce flared, mental power lancing out to shield Ethan.
Houndour lunged, Iron Tail kindling to a knife-bright sheen.
Behind, Lana's voice snapped like a whip. "Delay!"
Boss Cat's killing aura rolled in, heavy as thunderheads; Dark pressure rotted the rampaging Telekinesis mid-air. Ethan tore free, snatched the ball, and ducked in behind Boss Cat's shadow.
The broad-spectrum suppression made Cayce grimace. Ethan saw it wince and, without hesitating, popped the ball—Cayce let itself be beamed inside.
In front, Houndour's tail flashed even sharper—he'd learned something in that fury. The silver edge came down like a guillotine.
"Houndour—don't kill!"
The law was brutal and simple: a Pokémon that killed a human was put down, no exceptions.
For the first time, Houndour ignored him. Twice now someone had nearly crushed his trainer. His world tunneled to a single idea: take the head.
"Stop them!"
Shouts erupted from the gallery. Shadows warped as a Dusknoir dove, calling every shade in the hall—
—but Lincoln Granitehall moved first. Calm as a drawn blade, the Young Gym Head snapped a blue Ultra Ball to the floor.
A dark-green shape hit like a curse. Malice gusted; a sandstorm screamed to life.
Houndour's cleaver-tail was inches from Lydia's crown when a flash of red burst from her pocket—her partner sprang, palms thrusting, a shield blooming to catch the blow.
The barrier winked out—Houndour's momentum carried him through—and the red figure's cheeks ballooned.
Witch-flame, eerie and otherworldly, cannoned point-blank and launched Houndour.
"Houndour!"
Ethan lurched, and would have sprinted if Lana hadn't hooked his arm.
His HUD flicked data across his vision the second the red silhouette appeared:
Delphox — Lv. 53 — Ability: Blaze.
Ignition or not, there are ceilings to Abilities—and a level-10 Houndour wasn't eating a Delphox's fire.