The transport hummed and bumped along.
Kashiwagi felt himself being shoved and prodded toward a destination he couldn't see. He pricked up his ears, listening intently as his tensed muscles slowly began to relax.
Beep.
A soft chime sounded.
Following the instructions, he pulled off his blindfold and immediately released his Poké Ball.
Pop!
A white flash streaked out, and an Aron the size of a Border Collie hit the ground.
"Gron!"
"Don't panic. We're safe for now."
Kashiwagi scanned his surroundings. His luck held out; his drop-off point was a long slope cluttered with jagged rocks. High, strangely shaped rocky peaks towered in every direction, and there wasn't a soul in sight.
He pulled an earthy-yellow cloak from his backpack and draped it over himself to shield against the scrotching sun. Then, he checked on Aron, who was already fitted with a desert camouflage cover. Confirming it wouldn't catch the light, he nodded with satisfaction.
"Money well spent."
The most awkward part of an Aron operating in the desert was its metallic shell; it reflected sunlight far too easily, acting as a beacon for enemies. To avoid this, Kashiwagi had custom-made several cloth covers in a desert-sand hue. They probably wouldn't last long—digging holes or battling would likely tear them to shreds—but they were better than nothing.
"Now, for the next part... just as I thought."
Kashiwagi rummaged through the lining of his backpack and found exactly what he expected: a tiny slit in the bottom containing a grain-sized black object.
A Tracking Device.
Was someone playing him for a fool, or was there just a lack of communication between the mastermind and the lackey? He tossed the tracker to Aron and ordered him to crunch it into fine powder before he was satisfied.
"We need to move immediately. Our location might already be compromised."
"Gron!"
The wristbands distributed by the organizers functioned as more than just a battle-logging tool; they had a radar search function. It displayed nearby enemies as red dots, usable once every thirty minutes for a duration of three minutes. In other words, you couldn't stay hidden forever just by running.
Furthermore...
Buzz—
A faint, mosquito-like drone grew louder. Kashiwagi looked up and saw a light-green Drone Rotom hovering about three meters above his head.
A dedicated camera drone.
It made sense. This was a spectator sport, after all. But having that thing dangling over his head significantly increased the risk of exposure and made setting up ambushes much harder.
Kashiwagi and Aron moved into a formation five meters apart, and he raised his arm to activate the search function.
Beep!
A screen jumped out from the wristband, showing a rudimentary map. As a scanning line swept across it, several red dots began to blink.
Contestants couldn't see their own teammates' locations. If you wanted to find an ally, you had to judge their position based on the movement (or lack thereof) of the Drone Rotoms.
Avoid getting surrounded.
Kashiwagi studied the map. There was at least one red dot in every direction. He chose the one furthest away. His plan was to put as much distance as possible between himself and the high-density areas, then engage the most isolated target.
But just as he was about to set off, one of the small red dots on the radar stopped blinking and turned solid.
"Is that... an engagement?"
He blinked, surprised that someone had started a fight so quickly. Without delay, he and Aron hurried toward the opposite direction.
Three kilometers away from Kashiwagi, on the other side of the towering rock formations.
In a labyrinth of narrow paths, several figures were engaged in a life-or-death pursuit.
"Don't push your luck!" the fugitive roared. "Sandslash, use Pin Missile!"
As he spoke, a pale green aura flared over the surface of the large, rolling brown spike-ball beside him. Several cone-shaped projectiles, as thick as forearms, streaked toward the pursuer!
Thud, thud, thud!
The projectiles trailed light like fireworks, looking quite formidable.
The pursuer let out a cold laugh, showing not a hint of fear.
"Pursuit!"
"Awoo!"
Following the command, a grey-and-black shadow lunged forward with lightning speed. The Mightyena—standing over a meter tall at the shoulder—effortlessly dodged the green missiles. Ignoring the curled-up Sandslash, it went straight for the trainer!
Wham!
"AAAGH!"
The runner let out a piercing scream as he was slammed to the ground and pinned down firmly.
"Sand-slash!"
Seeing its trainer in trouble, the Sandslash uncurled and charged toward the Mightyena, leaping into the air!
"Ice Beam!"
An ice-blue bolt of lightning struck suddenly, hitting the Pokémon with pinpoint accuracy!
CRASH!
White mist dissipated. The Sandslash, knocked out of its rolling state, was partially embedded in the ground. Its claws were covered in frost, and it lay motionless.
"Sandslash..."
The Team Snagem grunt pinned by the Mightyena gritted his teeth, desperately trying to reach for a Poké Ball, but Ken arrived and stepped heavily on his wrist.
"You really are a coward. You ran the second you saw me. Where's all that big talk you had back at the camp?"
Ken spat on the ground in disgust. Beside him, a black-and-white badger-like Pokémon let out a high-pitched, screeching laugh.
"Obsta!"
Clearly, the Sandslash had been taken down by this Galarian Obstagoon.
Ken looked around and poked the grunt's face with the toe of his boot. "Where is that guy, Kashiwagi? Have you seen him?"
"Grrr..."
The Mightyena lowered its head, its sharp fangs grazing the grunt's throat.
"I... I..."
The grunt's eyes were filled with pure terror. His anger had vanished, replaced by a desperate urge to survive. "If I tell you, will you let me live?"
Ken's lips curled into a smirk. "Bargaining? You really don't know when to quit."
The Mightyena lunged to bite.
"TO THE EAST!"
The man screamed at the top of his lungs. He had no idea where Kashiwagi was, but to save his life, he'd make up anything. "He's in the east!"
Ken raised his hand, and the Mightyena stopped mid-motion. Seeing the man so terrified his face was distorted and his body shaking uncontrollably, Ken burst into a fit of laughter.
"What a pathetic wimp! Is this the best Team Snagem can produce?"
He looked up at the Drone Rotom hovering mid-air, his expression filled with mockery for the viewers.
Then, Ken went to work.
First, he confiscated all of the grunt's Pokémon. Then, he stripped the man naked and had Mightyena incinerate the clothes with Fire Fang. Finally, he stepped down and systematically broke both of the man's ankles.
Listening to the wailing screams, Ken said cheerfully, "Relax. I'm a nice guy; I don't like killing people. But as for whether you'll fall to your death before someone finds you... well, I can't say for sure."
Ken recalled his Mightyena and Obstagoon and released a powerful-looking crow wearing a "hat"—a Honchkrow. He ordered it to hang the man from a distant, needle-like spire of rock.
The Snagem grunt screamed and struggled, but he was powerless. He was dragged through the air by the Honchkrow and left dangling at the very tip of the spire. Forced by gravity, he had to wrap his arms around the peak to keep from falling. The rock was dozens of meters high; a fall would mean death or permanent disability.
"Cry for help all you want! Hahahaha!" Ken doubled over with laughter.
One Drone Rotom circled the naked, terrified grunt, while another descended toward Ken.
"You have received total Donations of 450,000."
"Heh, thanks everyone." Ken gave a slight bow to the camera.
In reality, it wasn't just the VIPs at the top who could donate. Anyone watching the broadcast, regardless of their faction, could tip. His performance was aimed at those who hated Team Snagem, those who just wanted to see chaos, and those with twisted minds.
He didn't kill the man because he didn't want it to get too bloody—he knew many of the VIPs were ladies, and things that were too visceral might upset them. Broken bones didn't show much blood, and stripping someone was just a humiliation. He didn't even care if the man was lying about Kashiwagi's location; the point was to show a teammate betraying another.
It was perfect!
As for what Team Snagem thought... who cared? He'd left the guy a "path to live." If they wanted their Pokémon back, they'd have to pay a ransom.
Between the win rewards, the donations, and the ransom money—he was going to be rich!
Ken licked his lips in excitement. He pulled a small box from his pocket, glanced at it, and frowned.
No signal?
Whatever. The arena wasn't that big. He'd find him eventually.
Outside the Arena.
A heavy, low-pressure atmosphere hung over the Team Snagem encampment. Many passersby looked toward them with mocking eyes.
Inside the tournament control room, amidst the noisy crowd, Ayana ignored the strange looks. She ignored the smug expression of the dark-faced man nearby. She simply stared at the screen, her gaze as cold as ice.