Arboliva's bullet-like olive-oil volleys blew Lucas's mind. He then had Arboliva fire into the sky to test range.
The result—
More than enough to reach the altitude the Corvisquire had maintained. And with that speed and volume, it could throw the flock into chaos right at the opening bell!
For Pokémon, evolution is not only a metamorphosis in life's tier—it also brings rapid psychological growth.
Think of Ash's obedient little Charmander turning rebellious after evolving into Charmeleon; and now Dolliv, after evolving into Arboliva, exuding a mature, kindly, compassionate aura.
With Lucas's approval, Arboliva nodded lightly. A spark flashed through its half-lidded eyes.
If those Corvisquire dared scare its children again, it would personally discipline those wayward kids.
Let it ferry these strays back onto the right path with mercy.
The timid, shy Dolliv, after evolving, had clearly shifted its thinking—now a slightly gentle, compassion-driven mother.
…
April 20, early morning.
The familiar cries rang outside the window. Lucas opened his eyes on the bed, clear-headed, without the anger or grogginess of being woken up.
He smiled, looking ready to enjoy the show. "Looks like they're here."
Just as he and Oranguru predicted, after they withdrew the guard from the coop, at first light the Corvisquire—pent-up for days—couldn't resist. They came in force, aggressive and loud.
Lucas didn't rush out. The moment these crows showed up, they were already turtles in a jar.
He brewed a pot of hot tea, dragged a chair to the desk, and, looking through the window at the dozens of Corvisquire thick over the coop, sat with a calm face.
All that remained was to watch the lineup Oranguru had arranged perform.
"Caaaw—caaaw—caaaw!"
Circling over the coop, the Corvisquire cried in excitement. The pebbles they had grabbed rattled onto the roof. With the chicks cowering in that hateful wooden box, the noise alone was enough to scare them witless.
While long-range moves could do more damage, both instinct and intellect told the crows to keep to a limit—or they'd incur the farm owner's wrath.
Their talons could carry only so many pebbles. So the crows switched shifts, flying in and out, scooping up stones and bombing the coop.
Arcanine and Dachsbun standing guard tried their best to blow away and burn the pebbles, but plenty slipped through and smacked the roof.
With their high intelligence, tight teamwork—and rumored ability to use rope to tie up enemies—these Corvisquire, back in Lucas's original world, would probably have been considered little demons out of folklore.
Suddenly, the coop door opened. Arboliva leaned out, glanced back at the trembling chicks, then gently closed the door and looked up at the sky.
Arboliva's appearance made the aerial assault stall for a moment. Seeing that familiar yet slightly strange figure, the crows hesitated.
Until one recognized it. Wasn't that just the evolved form of that helpless Dolliv?
Same as those two dumb dogs—this weakling posed no threat, evolution or not!
With that decided, the crows threw pebbles even more gleefully.
A few stones even dropped onto Arboliva's leaves. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to ignite the anger Arboliva had been suppressing.
Its gently upturned, half-lidded eyes opened wide. Flames of fury filled its gaze—this forest Pokémon famed for compassion now erupted like a volcano.
After a brief charge, countless shots of olive oil blasted from its outstretched arms and body. Faster than bullets, with the punch of small explosives capable of shattering rock.
They streaked into the sky. The sudden, dense barrage stunned the crows; then, as the oil struck bodies, wings, and heads, pain exploded across them.
Many instantly lost the ability to fly, pelting down like rain.
Some barely withstood the strike, only to find their wings heavy beyond belief. The oil glued their feathers together—flapping just to maintain altitude was hard enough, never mind climbing or fleeing.
The lucky few who weren't hit had their feathers stand on end in terror and scattered in all directions.
Outside the farm, crows returning with fresh stones for a shift change saw trouble and tried to bolt.
Right then, Oranguru waved its fan from the shadows. Aerial Operations—led by Dragonite with Luxray, three Dragonair, the Dragonite leader, and Moltres—surged out.
Sparks flew, and whole swathes of crows dropped. Oranguru's psychic power lifted them and drifted them slowly back toward the farm.
At the main battlefield by the coop, Arboliva's fury pushed it to 120%. And the past few days of all-out, cost-no-object special training had sent its strength soaring.
The olive oil—no, the machine-gun-like olive oil—formed a saturation barrage.
In short order, the sky was clear of Corvisquire. The ones who'd been so arrogant moments ago now lay scattered on the ground, feathers slick with oil, unable even to fly.
One particularly clever crow gritted through the dull pain and staggered to its feet, trying to bounce out of the farm like a running chicken—only to find itself surrounded by the arriving Pokémon. No way up, no way down.
Looking at the crows littering the ground, Arboliva glanced at its olives. Aside from the satisfaction of teaching these bad kids a lesson, a new thought sprouted in its heart.
All fear and powerlessness come from insufficient firepower.
If it were stronger—if its olive-oil bullets were faster, stronger, fiercer—it could protect the children and the farm even better!
Arboliva had an epiphany.
It walked slowly to a Corvisquire with three claw marks on its chest.
The crow, struggling to clean the oil from its feathers, froze as a shadow fell over it and looked up in terror at Arboliva standing quietly above.
It couldn't help but croak a plea.
"Caw caw-waa~?" (Can we… make peace?)
…
April 20, 8:30 a.m.
On the outskirts of Los Platos Town, the notorious Corvisquire Mafia fell. Sixty-six Corvisquire were captured in what later histories would dub Operation Crow-Ex.
At the same time.
The Corvisquire Mafia's boss—its chest marked by three hairless claw scars, henceforth called "Three-Scar"—announced unconditional surrender. It signed a humiliating treaty with the farm: not only would it submit to Lucas's power, it would also take responsibility for patrolling the farm's airspace, regularly driving off hostile flying Pokémon.
Just like the Corvisquire used to do before.
On the farm's open ground—
Dressed neatly, Lucas strolled over, looking at the Corvisquire squatting obediently, occasionally bobbing or craning like they had ADHD. He praised Oranguru—the butler and strategist—and the Pokémon who took part.
"Nice work, everyone."
The Pokémon who had defended the farm's peace together puffed out their chests, faces proud, filled with a sense of accomplishment.
Through telepathy, Oranguru briefed Lucas on the situation and what they knew about the crows.
For example, the crows lived in a forest not far from the farm—not the Vespiquen's woods, but a larger forest. They had indeed come as a gang simply to make trouble.
That didn't surprise Lucas.
But what Three-Scar claimed next did raise a new issue: those scars on its chest came from the leader of another force in the forest—the Fletchinder Gang.
Why, then, did the Corvisquire risk a near full muster to pick a fight?
Weren't they afraid their own territory would be left undefended, giving the Fletchinder a chance?
Three-Scar gave the answer.
The Fletchinder were in no position to attack either; the forest was short on food. Everyone was busy foraging—no time to fight.
Their persistence in causing trouble came partly from sheer stubbornness—and partly because they were genuinely craving those tasty chicks.
After sorting out the cause and effect, Lucas fell silent for a moment. Looking at the crows, he reflected that, Moltres aside, most birds have small appetites—usually just a few berries for a day's energy.
Coincidentally, the berry trees had just produced a second crop, and he'd been thinking about expanding.
Although the crows had crossed a line and were pretty miserable now—that unequal treaty Oranguru and Arboliva had them sign was a little harsh—
Better to follow the stick with a sweet date. Give these ready-made laborers more motivation to guard the farm's skies. The price would only be a small batch of berries.
And once they evolved into Corviknight, maybe they could be put to other uses.
After a bit of thought, Lucas spoke. "From now on, you'll rotate ten crows a day to guard the farm's skies. I'm not asking you to work for free—those ten crows will each be paid seven berries a day."
"How does that sound?"
A single berry doesn't sell for much anyway—especially cheap Oran and Pecha Berries. For so little, getting an air-defense force is a sweetheart deal!
When Lucas finished, Three-Scar froze for a second, then started nodding like a bobblehead, looking at Lucas as if at Arceus.
Wages!
With the crow problem resolved—and a batch of cheap labor gained—Lucas was in a great mood. At noon he cooked a feast for the Pokémon, then stretched out on a lounge chair under the fine sunlight.
Looking up, the reconstituted Corvisquire Sky Patrol had already taken up its post, diligently patrolling and occasionally driving off strays or hostile fliers—completely freeing up Luxray and Dragonite.
With a chuckle, Lucas opened his phone and looked up information on the Paldea Great Crater.
In the games he'd explored the crater and Area Zero, even dealing with the AI Sada/Turo incident.
But the crater still held many secrets. He hadn't played the later DLC and had never visited in reality. His understanding was limited.
He'd promised Arven not long ago that if Arven trained seriously, he'd take him into the crater to meet Professors Sada and Turo.
It had been a while since that promise—and since the professors entered the crater. Arven still wasn't strong enough to descend with him, but it was time to prepare.
If possible, he should go down himself a few times to get familiar with the environment. Arven was his student—he had to protect him.
"Hmm… the observation stations were built eighty-five years ago? Professor Sada mentioned the crater project was frozen for a while and only resumed a few months ago. It's probably still ramping up, with some buffer before the time machine is built."
Lucas figured that no matter how gifted Sada and Turo were, they wouldn't finish a time machine in half a year. There should still be a cushion before the points when Arven's Mabosstiff is hurt and the two professors meet their fate.
There wasn't much on the net about the crater—mostly superficial info and critiques of the Scarlet/Violet Book. Clearly, the Paldea League was keeping things under wraps.
He checked his usual task sites—no crater-related jobs either.
"So… whether info or tasks, I really do have to ask Geeta?"
He thought for a moment and was about to call Geeta—
When an unexpected call came in.
"Arven?"
The kid should be on break. It wasn't like him to proactively ask training questions. Why call now?
Was he coming to the farm to hang out?
Best to ask him directly.
Lucas raised an eyebrow, slid to answer—and Arven's panicked, tear-tinged voice came through. "Teacher Lucas, what do I do? Dad and Mom haven't contacted me for a long time."
Lucas sat up straight at once, frowning. "Could they just be busy and not have time to call?"
Arven shook his head on the other end, voice unsteady. "No. They've been keeping their promise—checking in at set times. If they can't talk, they send a text."
"But this time, it's been three whole days with nothing."