The North woke up the same way it always did—wind screaming through red ravines, black rocks cutting the light into shards, and the ground shifting underneath like something big was breathing.
Inside the officer's tent, Enzo didn't wait for comfort. He reached for the Poké Ball that had been silent for two days.
Click.
Koffing spilled out of the light like a purple mistake, hit the air… and just hovered there, blinking slowly as if reality had personally offended it.
"Koff…?"
Confused. Empty. Proud for no reason.
Enzo didn't speak yet. He let the System speak first.
[ STATUS — KOFFING ]
Level: 16 ➝ 18
Observation: "Specimen remains severely defective. Gas ratio unstable. However, the capacity to channel 'Self-Destruct' is anomalous. Recovery time reduced by 40%. Blast radius control: Surgical."
Enzo stared at the text for a long second.
He didn't know whether to laugh or feel sick.
He had a pocket-sized nuke.
And it was dumb as a door.
Koffing turned toward him immediately, floating closer with that wide, stupid grin—expecting praise as it had just solved world hunger.
Then Koffing's eyes slid sideways.
Sandile was nearby, still bruised in places, still carrying the memory of a point-blank detonation like a scar you couldn't scrub off.
Koffing froze midair.
Not dramatically.
Not intelligently.
Just… stopped.
Three seconds passed where nothing happened—like the thoughts inside its head had to walk uphill.
Then the fear finally arrived.
Koffing trembled. Its vents fluttered. Its grin collapsed into pure panic.
It stared at Sandile like Sandile was a nightmare it had personally invented.
Then—movement in the distance.
Proton's Koffing floated into view.
And the fear vanished so fast it was insulting.
Koffing's grin returned. Bigger. Dumber. Infinitely confident again.
It vibrated once—like a broken engine discovering religion—then drifted away from Enzo and floated straight toward Proton's Koffing with the devotion of a hopeless idiot.
Enzo watched it go.
He exhaled through his nose and delivered the verdict with zero emotion.
"Irrecoverable."
Sandile didn't follow Koffing with its eyes.
It watched Enzo.
The small crocodile sat stiff, tail tight, posture aggressive even while injured—like being "caught" was a humiliation it still didn't accept.
But there was something else in its stare, too.
Confusion.
How did it lose to that?
Enzo sat down beside it on the rock ledge, close enough to be disrespectful. Not comforting. Not gentle. Just present—like an instructor choosing where to place pressure.
"You're strong," Enzo said. "You've got instinct."
Sandile's jaw flexed, proud.
Enzo didn't praise it.
"But you still lost."
The words landed like a slap. Sandile's nostrils flared.
Enzo looked out over the ravine where the cave entrance had been sealed days ago, like the mountain itself had swallowed the memory.
"Wild Pokémon have a problem," Enzo continued, voice flat. "Too much confidence and terrible move management."
Sandile's eyes narrowed.
Enzo didn't care.
"Your old boss was Level forty," Enzo said. "Strong body. Strong bite. Strong territory."
A pause.
"If I had a Level forty Pokémon trained by me… it wouldn't last two minutes."
Sandile gave a low, offended growl—pure ego getting stabbed.
Enzo pointed with his chin toward the idiot floating near Proton's Koffing, vibrating like love had damaged its wiring.
"Look at that balloon," Enzo said. "He was Level sixteen."
Then he turned back to Sandile.
"You were Level twenty-two."
Sandile's claws scraped the stone.
"And you still lost," Enzo said calmly. "Why? Because he used his arsenal efficiently. You used brute force."
Sandile bared its teeth—not fear. Not submission.
Ambition.
It hated hearing it.
But it couldn't deny it.
Enzo leaned in slightly, voice controlled.
"We're going to fix that."
Sandile's stare sharpened.
"Morning," Enzo said. "Physical fundamentals. Footwork. bite angles. stamina. No excuses."
Sandile's tail twitched.
"Afternoon," Enzo continued. "You hunt with us."
That finally got a reaction—Sandile's mouth curled into something that looked almost like a grin.
It liked fighting.
Good.
Enzo stood up, dusting his hands like the conversation was done.
"Let's work."
Days blurred into a machine.
The North didn't become kinder—Enzo's team just became more fluent in it.
Mornings were drills, the kind that carved discipline into muscle instead of pretending talent was enough. Sandile stopped moving like a wild animal throwing a tantrum and started moving like a weapon—tight footwork, controlled angles, conserving energy until the exact moment it mattered. Corvisquire owned the ravines like they were built for it, cutting through the wind in clean lines and striking Enzo's rock markers in brutal sequences that left zero room for sloppy motion. Gastly didn't "train" the way normal Pokémon did; it corrected everything—mocking, punishing, teaching with that cold laughter that made mistakes feel personal, like the air itself was judging you.
Proton stopped complaining. Not because the marching got easier, but because he adapted. He stopped wasting breath on suffering and started spending it on execution—timing his commands, tightening his posture, treating every hour like an investment.
Afternoons became hunting and nest-clearing, and the North finally showed its full bestiary. Geodude didn't come alone—Graveler rolled out of cracked shelves like living boulders, and sometimes a whole ledge would "wake up" because the rock itself was a colony. Diglett tunnels turned into traps the moment you got careless, and Dugtrio swarmed in triples, popping up in patterns that looked random until Porygon2 mapped them and proved they weren't. Sandslash patrolled the narrow corridors like armored sentries, claws scraping stone with that steady sound that made you check your blind spots. Onix moved underfoot like a slow earthquake—when one surfaced, it wasn't a fight, it was a weather event.
And then there were the ones that weren't "nests," but territories. Rhyhorn tracks—deep grooves in the dust, heavy enough to make the ground feel owned. Cubone silhouettes in the red fog at dusk, watching from ridges like they were judging whether you belonged in their canyon. Even the air wasn't always safe: wild Golbat sometimes cut across the ravines in hungry arcs, drawn by blood-smell and noise, testing Proton's nerves and his newly evolved flyer's dominance.
Enzo didn't chase "wins." He harvested situations. Pokéblocks bought attention, bought positioning, bought controlled conflict. Every encounter became practice: spacing, angles, stamina management, timing under pressure. The battles got simpler not because the North got weaker, but because the team got smarter.
Above it all, Porygon2 learned the terrain like a blueprint—choke points, echo paths, ambush corners—and Teleport stopped being an escape plan and became a weapon. Repositioning mid-fight. Snapping Sandile onto an enemy's flank. Shifting Corvisquire out of a bad angle. Pulling Enzo a few meters sideways to dodge a strike that should've ended the run. Each repetition shaved the delay down. Each real combat lock made the timing cleaner.
By Day 62, it wasn't luck anymore.
[ TEAM STATUS — ENZO ]
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Corvisquire (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 26
Potential: BLUE
Ability: Keen Eye
Size: 1.4m (unusually large)
Moves:
— Peck (Flying)
— Air Slash (Flying)
— Sand Attack (Ground)
— Power Trip (Dark)
— Payback (Dark)
— Hone Claws (Dark)
— Leer (Normal)
Obs: "Abnormal mass density. Wing pressure output exceeds species baseline."
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Gastly (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 26
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Bond Indicator: "Increased proximity to host detected."
Moves:
— Hypnosis (Psychic)
— Lick (Ghost)
— Confuse Ray (Ghost)
— Mean Look (Normal)
— Shadow Ball (Ghost)
— Thunder Punch (Electric)
— Fire Punch (Fire)
Evolution: DELAYED (by host request)
System Note: "Growth margin remains. Premature evolution is not recommended."
Notes: Control precision increased. Teaching efficiency improved.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Sandile (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 26
Potential: GREEN
Ability: Intimidate
Typing: Ground / Dark
Moves:
— Bite (Dark)
— Mud-Slap (Ground)
— Sand Attack (Ground)
— Power Trip (Dark)
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Koffing (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 21
Potential: LIGHT RED
Moves:
— Tackle (Normal)
— Smokescreen (Normal)
— Clear Smog (Poison)
— Self-Destruct (Normal)
Obs: "Cognitive Index: Extremely Low. Unstable specimen. Recurring suicidal aggression. Attempts Self-Destruct whenever opportunity arises (triggered by stress, excitement, boredom, or confusion)."
Notes: "Self-Destruct frequency increased."
Observed Behavior: Nest clearing. High-risk compliance. Morale: unchanged (still stupidly proud).
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Porygon2 (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 12
Potential: DEEP GREEN
Ability: Download
Moves:
— Tackle (Normal)
— Conversion (Normal)
— Sharpen (Normal)
— Teleport (Psychic)
Obs: "Data assimilation triggered spontaneous upgrade. Structural integrity improved. Growth ceiling elevated."
Move Focus: Teleport (Psychic)
Notes: Repetition training ongoing. Activation time reduced. Lock stability improved.
________________________________________
Proton didn't need a System window to know the difference.
He could feel it every time Golbat's wings beat overhead—heavier, louder, more confident. Every time his Koffing didn't hesitate before filling a corridor with poison. Every time Grimer moved like a dirty miracle, turning the North into its personal landfill and somehow growing faster than the rest.
Enzo checked Proton's side anyway—because results mattered more than pride.
________________________________________
[ TEAM STATUS — PROTON ]
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Golbat
Evolution: Zubat ➝ Golbat
Level: 23
Potential: DEEP GREEN
Moves:
— Wing Attack (Flying)
— Bite (Dark)
— Confuse Ray (Ghost)
— Shadow Ball (Ghost)
Notes: Size increase confirmed. Endurance improved. Combat tempo cleaner. Air control dominant.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Koffing
Level: 23
Potential: LIGHT GREEN
Moves:
— Smog (Poison)
— Poison Gas (Poison)
— Assurance (Dark)
Notes: Poison output increased. Control stability improved. Temper: still toxic.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Grimer (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 25
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Ability: Stench
Moves:
— Pound (Normal)
— Poison Gas (Poison)
— Harden (Normal)
— Disable (Normal)
Bond Indicator: "Ally imprint established. Primary loyalty redirected."
Notes: Abnormal growth rate confirmed. Environmental absorption behavior increasing. Territory-cleaning instinct observed. Odor: unchanged (unfortunately).
By Day 62, Enzo's capture log had turned into something most recruits wouldn't manage in an entire run—not because he got lucky, but because he treated the North like an economy. Everything was a transaction: pressure, food, fear, timing.
He'd secured:
Two Sandshrew—both Light Green.
Five Diglett—four Light Green, one Green.
Five Geodude—three Light Green, two Green.
Three Zubat—Light Green across the board.
A single Pidgey—Light Green.
Two Spearow—one Light Green, one Green.
One Mankey—Light Green.
One Ekans—Light Green.
Four Rattata—two Light Green, two Green.
And a Cubone—Light Green.
It was the kind of list that should've drawn attention. The kind of list that got people killed.
So Enzo kept it quiet.
And then there was the one capture he didn't record anywhere anyone could see.
An Onix.
At first, it had been Light Green—rare already, but still something the island could explain away. After he injected the Virus, the potential climbed, turning Green.
He didn't tell Proton. He didn't even let the thought linger long enough to become pride.
He sealed the ball, buried it deep in his gear, and treated it like a weapon you don't show until the moment it matters.
Then his TR Device vibrated once—sharp, precise.
A new icon pulsed.
Porygon2.
Three markers are approaching your position.
Enzo's mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile.
He turned back toward camp.