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Reaching the Apex (Pokémon SI)

9. A War of Wings and Blades New
Note to readers: Please keep in mind that this story takes a realistic approach to the Pokémon world. I am writing this based on my personal preferences, so be prepared for certain twists or alterations that may differ from your expectations.​


I woke up as usual at dawn. Today was misty and, by Kanto standards, significantly cold. However, the fire was still radiating warmth thanks to the tireless vigil of my partner. Honestly, I hadn't expected Gastly and its evolutions to be such excellent companions in the wild. Haunter guarded me non-stop; he didn't sleep at all during the night, so the camp was safe. Moreover, he was capable of carrying wood, and since he could hide in my shadow at any moment, he represented a perfect threat to any inattentive enemy.

I quickly scrambled out of my sleeping bag; I could hardly wait for the Viridian Forest. If I managed to catch an interesting or expensive Pokémon, I could make a decent profit. What if I ran into some Scyther? Though... perhaps better not. If there was a whole swarm, I'd have a serious problem.

"Good morning, Haunter. Was it quiet last night?" I asked, skillfully packing the tent and sleeping bag while my breakfast heated over the fire.

"Haunt, Haunter!" he nodded contentedly.

"And did you practice that Acid Spray during the night?" I teased him with a smile, remembering his disgusted expression from yesterday.

"Haunteeeeer!" he snorted and demonstratively turned his back on me.

I had to laugh. Judging by the black, decayed grass a short distance from us, however, it was clear that he had worked hard during the night. Apparently, things hadn't gone according to his expectations if he felt so ashamed.

Breakfast was soon ready. This time it was just an ordinary pre-packaged meal that I shoveled down in a hurry. By the time I finished and Haunter was bashfully looking everywhere but at me, the tripod had cooled down. I extinguished the fire, and nothing stood in our way anymore. I decided to run to the forest boundary; it was only ten minutes away. Once inside Viridian Forest, I certainly wouldn't allow myself to run.

Even if there wasn't a sign announcing the entrance, I would have noticed the change just by the surroundings. The path was substantially narrower and less trodden. The grass reached higher, looking wilder, and the tree canopies were so thick that only a minimum of sunlight penetrated through. Although the sounds of the wilderness echoed through the forest, the atmosphere was significantly more dangerous.

We had been walking carefully and cautiously for an hour. Haunter remained hidden in my shadow, yet he constantly monitored the surroundings in a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree range so that nothing would surprise us. In the distance, I noticed an unknown figure. I saw that he had registered us too—he stood leaning against a tree trunk, hands in his pockets, with a wide straw hat on his head.

Only when I stepped closer did I see his face covered in yellowish acne. The straw hat clearly marked him as a member of a Bug Catcher gang in this territory, but those festering sores? That immediately told me he was addicted to the special fumes of Poison-type Pokémon. While acne was common in my memory-world, here almost everyone had naturally clear skin. The exceptions were only the chronically ill or junkies addicted to cheap drugs. It couldn't be regulated; all it took was a trainer catching a Poison-type and cooking like Walter White in Breaking Bad.

From up close, I could see him absentmindedly and restlessly tossing a Pokéball in his hand. Eagerness was reflected in his eyes. I knew a battle was inevitable, and I certainly didn't intend to back down.

As soon as I was a few meters from him, he shouted: "I am Bug Catcher Gerald, and I challenge you to a one-on-one battle! The wager is a hundred dollars in cash." He paused for a moment and added: "I don't accept a refusal!" He immediately threw the Pokéball he had been nervously fumbling with in his palm.

A Beedrill materialized from the red light. I expected nothing else; it was commonly discussed on forums that these trainers had either Beedrills or Butterfrees. Most of them, however, didn't survive long in the wild—if they weren't careful, something simply ate them.

I refused to waste time talking to that wreck. "Haunter," I addressed my shadow quietly.

My partner immediately surfaced. Gerald was obviously an amateur, as he hadn't noticed the restless rippling of my shadows before. He turned a bit pale, but he still believed his bug had a chance. While his Beedrill barely measured a meter and looked malnourished, my Haunter was almost three times larger and radiated pure power.

"Attack it with Twineedle, Beedrill!" Gerald shouted eagerly. "Go into the ground, Haunter," I commanded so quietly that my opponent couldn't hear me.

I didn't understand why Gerald was screaming so loud. I also didn't understand why he was using a physical attack when he had no chance of getting to Haunter, but the drugs were likely to blame. Beedrill looked around confused, searching in vain for a target. I waited a moment to see if Gerald would issue a new command or at least order the Pokémon to be alert, but he couldn't manage anything.

"Shadow Ball at the wing, Haunter!" I commanded louder.

Haunter didn't wait. He rose from the ground directly in front of his opponent. Darkness immediately began to swirl in the air, rapidly forming into a dense sphere—it was no longer just the size of a tennis ball. Once it reached the right consistency, Haunter hurled it at the Beedrill. It tried to dodge instinctively, but unfortunately for it, unsuccessfully.

As soon as the Shadow Ball landed, it tore off three-quarters of Beedrill's wing and knocked it backward. Haunter didn't let up and was already preparing another attack. This time, he knew he had plenty of time. He formed a ball half as large as before and, with a malicious grin, hurled it at his opponent.

"Avoid it, Yanky!" Gerald screamed in terror.

It was too late, though. Beedrill's mobility was completely fucked; the rest of its wing wasn't enough for a proper maneuver. Gerald's slowed drug-reflexes lost this battle before it even properly began. Under normal circumstances, Beedrill should have been substantially faster, but this one was clearly weak and neglected. The Shadow Ball hit it directly in the head, slammed it violently to the ground, and it remained lying motionless. Green blood flowed from its mouth, and its insect face was slightly deformed. He lost.

"Haunter," I called him back. With a victorious smile, he immediately obeyed and submerged into my shadow.

The wing would grow back for that Beedrill over time... It was only stunned and looked like it could survive the night, but that junkie would have to get it to a center immediately. I found Gerald extremely unpleasant. His Pokémon suffered for him in battle while he stood there high and distracted. That poor Beedrill paid the price for having such a moron as a trainer.

Gerald could see on me that I would have loved to drive a knife into his leg. As soon as I approached, he tremblingly handed me the hundred. With a contemptuous look, I snatched the money from his hand and continued on my way without a word.

Before I gained those memories, I would have taken this as a completely normal thing. Now, however, it thoroughly disgusted my day. From the perspective of my other knowledge, it was pure animal abuse—in this case, Pokémon abuse. For a moment, I considered whether to return to him and stick that knife in his leg after all, but in the end, pragmatism won. I couldn't let myself be derailed by the fate of an insect Pokémon that would have died in a few years anyway and which this world considered insignificant.

Old memories, however, had made me a more sensitive person, at least in this regard. If someone had already subjugated a Pokémon that was loyal to them, they should, dammit, take the best care of it!

I walked further, annoyed by the whole situation. I completely stopped perceiving the Pokémon cries and the ominous atmosphere of the dark forest; in that anger, I almost forgot that I was in dangerous territory. Haunter, however, remained vigilant. After a few hours, he suddenly flew out of my shadow and stopped me. I looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"What's going on, Haunter?" I asked. "Haunt, Haunter!" he whispered and placed his claws to his ears, gesturing for me to be quiet.

I nodded and listened intently. I had to seriously concentrate for a few seconds; to be safe, I closed my eyes to better perceive what Haunter was alerting me to. I heard muffled cries of pain—sounds I couldn't immediately identify. It sounded as if two groups of Pokémon were fighting each other.

The question was: to go there, or not? It was a risk, of course, until an old familiar phrase appeared in my mind: "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." And so, with a focused Haunter at my heels, I set off toward the sounds of battle. It didn't take even ten minutes before the noise was distinct. Slowly, with maximum caution and focus on every step so as not to make a sound, I moved closer. Finally, from behind a tree, I saw a clearing where a battle between two groups raged. I must admit, they were going at it quite brutally.

Two swarms of Pokémon stood against each other—both of those the Ranger in Viridian had warned me about. They were clearly fighting over territory. I saw a huge number of Beedrills aggressively attacking extremely fast Scythers.

The Scythers were winning at first, even though there were substantially more Beedrills, perhaps even six times as many. The Scyther swarm was successfully slicing through their wings and killing fallen enemies with sharp blades. But even though the Beedrills were dying, they didn't retreat an inch. They constantly pushed forward aggressively, attacking physically while simultaneously firing volleys of poison stingers. The Scythers were still combat-ready—they were born predators: fast, powerful, and precise. But the first line of Beedrills that fell under their blades had obviously poisoned them.

I was watching an epic battle live. The Scythers were visibly slowing down, even though their wind techniques were still hacking apart the attackers who absolutely wouldn't give up. Their red eyes glowed aggressively as they resolutely flew at the enemy. After a while, the first Scyther fell. The others immediately moved over him to protect him, but gradually, under the influence of exhaustion and poisoning, they began to fall as well. Finally, only the last two standing Scythers remained against the remaining third of the swarm. Although the Scythers were extremely powerful, they didn't stand a chance against such a deluge. Even though the Beedrills had enormous losses and three-quarters of their swarm lay butchered on the ground, the remainder was winning. The result of the territorial battle was clear: most of the Scythers were dead, and the last two were standing with their last strength against overwhelming odds.

Perhaps it was reckless, but I decided to save the last Scyther, though perhaps even against his will. The plan was clear: the moment the second-to-last one fell, I would catch the last one.

"Haunter, as soon as the second-to-last Scyther falls, I'm catching the last one, understand?" I whispered. "Haunter!" he nodded immediately and loyally. "I need you to fly for that Pokéball and bring it back. Can you do it?" "Haunter!" he answered determinedly.

And so it happened. As soon as the second-to-last warrior plummeted to the ground, I hurled the Pokéball directly into the center of the battlefield. My fearless Haunter dashed out at the same moment. The Pokéball shook only once and immediately signaled a successful catch. Haunter quickly snatched it between his claws and disappeared with it underground.

The Beedrills circled confused for a while, searching for the prey that had vanished before their eyes, but after a moment, they gave up. They flew over the battlefield, cold-bloodedly ignoring their fallen comrades and mercilessly finishing off the dying Scythers. Haunter emerged from the ground directly in front of me with a victorious smirk and handed me the prize. I accepted it and slowly, trying not to attract the attention of the remaining swarm, I headed back to the main beaten path.

There was still enough light, so I didn't feel fear. As I walked, however, a fork in the road appeared before me—one path was wide and frequented, the other narrower, almost overgrown. Honestly? A foolish curiosity won out in me, so I turned onto the less-trodden one.

I walked along it for about thirty minutes until the first cobwebs began to appear on the trees. I was beginning to suspect where I had ended up, but I couldn't help myself and continued deeper. I walked directly into an ideal hunting ground for Spinaraks and Ariados. Sticky webs hung everywhere. At that very moment, I remembered the Ranger who had warned me about a missing group of trainers. It was clear to me—they were the ones who had trodden this path onto which I had so naively ventured. Fortunately, it was still light, and I saw well enough not to get tangled in any webs. A short distance from huge white cocoons, I noticed an abandoned backpack.

I knew what those cocoons hid, and I also knew it would be useless to cut them open. The person who set down their backpack here and tried to free those victims must have been completely stupid. Every training manual clearly described the Spinarak hunting procedure: they hunt at night, use webs, and when a victim is caught, they inject a dose of poison and immediately tie them up. Within five minutes, the prey in the cocoon is dead.

The person who went to their aid is likely already rotting in one of them. I didn't see any Spinarak in the vicinity, and certainly no Ariados, so I quickly grabbed the abandoned backpack and headed back to the main road. I didn't intend to play hero when it was clear to me that everyone in those cocoons was long dead.

Soon I was back on the safer route. The presence of spiders and the recent insect war had wound my vigilance tight enough. I certainly had no desire to set up camp anywhere near them. I walked for another two hours in constant tension. Even though I believed in Haunter's strength, I knew that just a moment of inattention and I could lose my life.

In the end, however, the journey proceeded without problems. When it began to get dark, I decided to set a small fire after all. I found a suitable spot between the trees a short distance from the path. I laboriously dug a pit with a trowel while Haunter gradually brought me pieces of wood. It was wise of him—he didn't bring large piles, but only smaller amounts so he could intervene immediately in case of danger.

When the flames were dancing in the pit, I quickly pitched the tent a few meters from the fire. I just barely fit within the recommended distance so that no spark would land on the canvas. Contentedly, I began to prepare dinner while Haunter held watch.

I had gained a Scyther—a strong Pokémon with the potential to evolve into Scizor. After a quick meal, I decided to summon him and treat him. I was curious how he would behave toward me. With a flick, I threw the Pokéball, and after a moment, a breathless, barely standing Scyther appeared, watching the surroundings warily until his gaze fell on me. His face twisted with hatred, but he couldn't manage an attack, only a quiet cry: "Scyther!"

I observed him in silence. Scythers were more intelligent than other bugs, which likely also related to their size. The question was whether he would be grateful for the rescue or hate me for not letting him fall in battle along with the others of his swarm. Haunter watched him warily; a Shadow Ball slowly swirled in his claws, ready for immediate use.

As I observed him, Scyther couldn't hold on anymore and collapsed with a quiet whimper. He lay helpless on the ground, and I decided to use the rest of the antidote. I approached him cautiously and treated his shoulder and chest with a gentle spray, where purple, poisoned wounds were glowing. It was exactly the remainder I had used on myself after the Ekans attack.

He just lay there for a while, but I saw that his breathing was improving. The antidote worked. I tried to place my hand on his head, but that was a mistake. He immediately tried to slice me with his blade, a look of hatred in his eyes. I dodged just in time. Fortunately, Haunter didn't throw the ball, so I let him rest further.

"Haunter, continue training Acid Spray, but be careful not to exhaust yourself," I commanded sternly. "Haunter!" he nodded immediately and began the drill.

I, meanwhile, with a wary eye on Scyther, pulled out my sword and began to train while he lay tiredly in the grass.



Author's note:


Poor Beedrill... honestly, it's a miracle Haunter isn't even more powerful; otherwise, that Shadow Ball would have taken its head clean off. Its wings, however, were far more fragile, making it a very short and brutal process. Drugs are a plague, and unfortunately, the Pokémon world isn't immune to them either!

What do you guys think? How will Scyther behave toward our MC? Will he eventually show gratitude for being saved, or will he try to slit the MC's throat at the very first opportunity?

Looking forward to your theories!


Step into the Restricted Section

The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.

Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter

Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:
10. Red "R" and Crimson Steel
11. Gastly: From the Void
12. The Weight of Necessity
13. Nature's Cruel Mercy
14. I'm Rich, Baby!

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nice chapter thx for writing it
fun seeing him gaining a second team member
wonder if he plans to get a cleavor ?
 
nice chapter thx for writing it
fun seeing him gaining a second team member
wonder if he plans to get a cleavor ?

Glad you liked it!

Uh, I don't want to disappoint you, but Scyther refused to cooperate... He was actually sold in Chapter 14. That chapter is titled 'I'm Rich, Baby!', so you can look forward to that! :D

I'll try to release new chapters faster! :)
 

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