After entrusting the Eggs to Lucas, Hassel didn't linger. He mounted his Noivern with a big bag of local specialties Lucas gave him and left the farm.
Once Hassel was gone, Lucas returned to the living room, washed the cups and dishes, then quietly pulled out his phone and typed "Blueberry Academy" into the search bar.
The top result was Blueberry's grand project—news of the Terarium Dome's completion and commissioning, with a few overhead shots of the zones attached.
Four zones, four distinct terrains and climates.
Savanna Zone, Coastal Zone, Canyon Zone, Polar Zone.
A bit like how he'd named the three areas on his own farm. The chief designer was Cyrano—also Blueberry Academy's director.
As he scrolled through the photos and articles, Lucas's initial shock gradually settled, replaced by a bold idea forming in his heart.
If he could apply that technology to farm construction—to truly simulate Pokémon habitats and climates, and raise large numbers of Pokémon—he might build a farm of legendary renown!
But for now, such dreams would have to stay tucked away. It was more practical to keep improving the farm's basic infrastructure.
What he didn't notice was Oranguru, who had just set the two Eggs in place upstairs. Standing behind Lucas, he watched him with a thoughtful look.
…
The next morning, Lucas was woken by a raucous chorus of caws outside.
Yawning, he lifted Serperior's tail off his stomach, peeled Mimikyu's face off his cheek and tucked it back under the covers, carefully avoided Dragonite—who still insisted on sleeping beside him, but because of its size could only pitifully nest at the edge of the bed—and tiptoed to the window.
In the distance, a flock of crow-like Pokémon circled in the sky. Their hoarse, chattering calls made his brain throb. From time to time, black dots fell from above—only to be burned away by flames or blown apart by a pink Fairy Wind.
That was the direction of the chicken coop. The flames and fairy breeze were from the farm's security detail—Arcanine and Dachsbun. As for those black dots—probably rocks.
"They're back again—the Corvisquire."
Lucas's face was openly exasperated. He'd long since lost track of when it started, but these Corvisquire had begun harassing the farm frequently. The chicks in the coop were so on edge because of them that their nerves were constantly taut.
Which made Dolliv, who was caring for the chicks, extremely anxious.
As if the awful cawing weren't enough, they also dropped things from high altitude. Their birdly conduct and civilities were abysmal.
Via Oranguru—the gold-medal interpreter—Lucas had learned the story from Dolliv.
These Corvisquire had set their sights on the free-range chicks outside the coop. The security team—Arcanine and Dachsbun—naturally drove them off. In retaliation, the Corvisquire seemed to hold a grudge, showing up at dawn every single day to make trouble.
Even when driven away, those mule-stubborn pests were back the next morning without fail. Lucas had even started thinking about taking Luxray and razing their nest.
With a sigh, Lucas picked up the clothes-drying pole he kept by the window and poked it outside—
He wasn't planning to use it as a javelin to intimidate the Corvisquire; he wasn't that strong.
He extended the pole to the right until it tapped a wooden panel. He rapped the panel a few times and called, "Moltres, please go deal with it."
Yes—the birdhouse next to the window belonged to Moltres.
Face blank with numb resignation, Moltres poked its head out and looked at those lawless mobsters, once again wondering how many times it had to question its dignity and presence as a Legendary Pokémon.
As a legendary bird, it should exert absolute pressure on ordinary bird Pokémon.
Corvisquire, Fletchinder, Squawkabilly, Staravia, Doduo—the last one, scratch that.
When they saw it, they ought to scatter like mice before a cat—avoiding it like the plague, ducking and hiding, wary and distant, stepping back, keeping their heads down, moving with trepidation, overwhelmed with fear.
In practice, it swooped in and drove them off with the majesty of a Legendary Pokémon, even left its scent as a warning—and they still showed up right on time the next day.
Country birds with no sense of the world—the hardest to handle.
Grumbling internally, Moltres nonetheless spread its flame-wreathed wings on the balcony outside the birdhouse at Lucas's urging and flew toward the circling Corvisquire.
The sight of Moltres charging in, flames blazing, quickly drew the Corvisquire's attention.
Their cunning red eyes met; a decision was made—time to scram!
They were very sure of their altitude management. The two dumb mutts below couldn't reach them—but this fiery big bird was different. They had no interest in sampling its Flamethrower.
Take the win and live to fight another day. They had plenty of time.
Their original goal of hunting chicks had now completely changed. All they wanted was to harass this farm to the utmost. Crows hold grudges—more than anyone!
Moltres was still charging its Flamethrower when the Corvisquire neatly turned and flapped away in unison—
Again?!
Rage shot to Moltres's head. Since when did Moltres suffer such humiliation?!
Anger urged it to bring out Harsh Sunlight and teach those birds a lesson with a Gatling burst of Flamethrowers.
Reason held it back. It knew its full power's destructive reach. One slip and the farm below would be scorched. Those crops couldn't stand even a lick of flame.
Not to mention, right next to the chicken coop grew the precious Herba Mystica. Going all-out was absolutely off the table.
Moltres suddenly missed its old, carefree self—before all these rules and constraints. Life on the farm meant many compromises.
…
That afternoon, Lucas gathered the key Pokémon in front of the coop.
When he'd bought the chicks, they'd been in their downy phase. After about half a month, they were only just starting to shed their fluff and grow adult feathers.
At this stage, they're energetic but easily affected by outside stimuli—easily startled.
Put yourself in their place. You're a tiny little chick. Every dawn, a flock of big birds circle overhead, staring at you with predatory eyes.
Wouldn't you be scared?