Chapter 140: Destiny

Chapter 40: Destiny

A solemn atmosphere permeated the small wooden cabin, so thick that even the air seemed to have solidified.

"Cork, are you aware of what has been happening lately?" the village chief asked in a low, heavy voice, his deep eyes hidden beneath the shadows of his brow.

The burly, bearded man known as Cork looked bewildered. "What's happening?"

The village chief let out a sigh of resignation. "You are, after all, the special envoy stationed by the Alliance in our Whiteleaf Town, the second-in-command of this settlement."

"Even if you don't manage or resolve every little thing that happens in town, shouldn't you at least have a general understanding of them?"

"..."

The reproachful words echoed through the cabin. Cork rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, his conscience pricking him.

"Forget it, I'm getting off track." The village chief stroked his beard, his irritation showing. "At my age, getting worked up over you will only bring me grief."

He cleared his throat, glared at Cork, and spoke slowly. "A few days ago, Hanger and the others found some strange tracks near the fields."

"I went to take a look yesterday. They must have been left by a Rattata..."

"Impossible!" Cork stood up abruptly, his roar of shock echoing in the air.

One had to understand that in the seventy-plus years since the Alliance had cleared the outer regions of the Colon Plains, no wild Pokémon had ever appeared near Whiteleaf Town. In this current era, any wild Pokémon was essentially a flesh-and-blood monster infected by the Seeds of Nightmare, posing a grave threat to the town's residents.

"Calm down, sit back down," the village chief gestured for him to be seated. "Regardless, the tracks are real, and the fact that a wild Pokémon has appeared near our town cannot be changed."

"The Nightmare Pokémon have returned..." A cold, sharp light erupted from the depths of the village chief's eyes, framed as they were by fine wrinkles.

"I’ll contact Dragonite City immediately!" Cork’s fists tightened, his thick-browed face filled with anxiety.

The village chief shook his head and tapped his cane against the floor. "Wait. The most urgent matter right now is..."

Before he could finish, a primal roar suddenly erupted from the distant woods. It carried a violent, bloodthirsty tone that made the listeners' hair stand on end.

The conversation ceased, the village chief’s expression freezing. "It’s here!"

Without a word, Cork and the village chief exchanged a glance. They rose and rushed toward the entrance of the town, their hands moving to their waists, where red-and-white Poké Balls leaped into their palms.

...

"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" El shouted as he skipped through the front door.

"Why are you so late today?" A woman’s voice, sharp with anger and heavy reproach, drifted from the kitchen. "How many times have I told you? Why won't you listen? I told you not to..."

"Alright, alright," El’s father said, reclining on the sofa. He beckoned El over and patted his round head, whispering a pacification. Clearly, even in this world of Pokémon, family dynamics remained the same; in human households, the father still played the role of the peacemaker.

"I wasn't just playing around!" El reached out and placed a basket of berries on the living room table, pouting in grievance. "Look! I picked all these berries!"

"You went to the eastern woods?" The voice from the kitchen grew even higher.

The protest only invited a torrential downpour of further scolding. Realizing he was in the wrong, El fell silent and lowered his head. Much like in most families, this small conflict drew out the complex lines of deep familial affection, the harsh scolding masking a sense of warmth.

"Roar—"

Just then, a primal cry shattered the warmth of the living room. The clatter of dishes in the kitchen stopped abruptly, and hurried footsteps moved toward the living room. El’s father stood up, his brow furrowed. He exchanged a look with his wife, who had emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron.

"Is it... that?"

His wife nodded deeply.

"What's wrong?" El asked, confused and frightened by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"It’s nothing, come with Mommy," El’s mother said, forcing a faint smile onto her stiff face.

She stepped forward, took El’s small hand, and hurried toward the storage room. Meanwhile, El’s father ran to the bedroom, pulling a case from the depths of the closet. The cold touch of the metal helped calm his racing heart. He took a deep breath and carefully opened the case; inside, the metallic sheen of firearms glinted.

"Mom, what’s actually happening?" El asked, trembling.

"It’s okay, don't be afraid, baby," his mother said, hugging his shaking frame to comfort him. "Be a good boy and sleep inside for a while. When Mommy calls you, you can come out, okay?"

Vaguely sensing that something serious was happening and that this was no time to be difficult, El nodded obediently. She kissed his forehead deeply, left a gentle smile, and closed the door leading to the cellar within the storage room. Taking a few deep breaths, her hands trembled as she locked the storage room door from the outside, then, as a final precaution, tucked the spare key into the door gap.

She walked to the bedroom, took the cold firearm from her husband, and the two walked shoulder-to-shoulder out of their home. Their eyes scanned the surroundings in the dim twilight. On both sides of the street, their neighbors—people they saw every day—were also emerging from their homes, firearms in hand. A sense of camaraderie, inherent to humans as social creatures, welled up within them, offering a faint sense of comfort.

*Boom!*

A loud explosion erupted in the distance. Everyone simultaneously fixed their gaze on the entrance of the town. There, a wisp of dangerous, grayish-white smoke rose like soft silk.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Fierce collisions followed by angry roars echoed incessantly. Dazzling flashes of red and purple lit up the sky, which was gradually being swallowed by darkness. El’s parents stared with intense concentration. They knew that the village chief and the Alliance envoy—the only two in town who possessed Pokémon—were defending the residents' safety with their lives.

Soon, the sounds from the horizon faded, and the brilliant flashes ceased. Gripping their cold weapons tighter, El’s parents stared grimly at the end of the street. The moment of their destiny had arrived.