Chapter 163: The Puppets
"So, this is how those humans can command Pokémon without Poké Balls," Giovanni sneered. "I had expected a bond of friendship, or perhaps one forged through pure, brutal force.
I was looking forward to it for nothing. They are just a pack of puppets."
The Gastly let out a soft sound of agreement. Giovanni now understood the reason for its weakened state. It was a captive, a food source, its own essence constantly being torn away and consumed.
It was no wonder that a ghost hundreds of years old was so malnourished and low-leveled.
He stroked his chin, his eyes glinting. That claw... that appearance... it must be a Haunter.
"So that is why your level has never increased. Interesting— a Haunter that has lived for a thousand years and devoured so many souls... its strength could even be at the Elite Four level."
But it was hard to say for sure. Though it had devoured many, if it didn't know how to properly refine that stolen power, the impurities would limit its growth, perhaps even prevent it from breaking through to the next tier.
It might barely reach a quasi-Elite level. Otherwise, it would not have remained hidden; it would have attacked them long ago. Of course, it was also possible that it was simply old and cautious. The older one gets, the more one fears death.
This was a universal truth, even for ghosts.
"By the way," Giovanni asked, "why did you not escape?"
The Gastly shook its head in fear, as if the very thought were a terrifying taboo. It was a natural reaction. It had been controlled for hundreds of years, its will eroded, a slave mentality deeply ingrained in its very being.
To run would be akin to defying a god.
"Do you know where this tribe is located? Can you take me there?"
The Gastly knew, but it genuinely did not dare. If the Haunter found out, it would surely die a miserable death. It was so scared that it shrank into a trembling ball of shadow.
Giovanni frowned— a creature with such a personality was of little use to him. He was only keeping it because it was his first Ghost-type.
It seemed to sense his impatience, his rising killing intent. As a ghost hundreds of years old, the Gastly was intelligent. It knew that if it did not make the right choice now, it would die a miserable death immediately, not at some point in the distant future.
The present danger was far more pressing. It scrambled up from the ground, reformed its body, and nodded its agreement.
"You are at least somewhat intelligent," Giovanni said, though he found the creature's slavish nature and cowardice deeply unappealing. The Gastly sensed his change in mood but didn't dare to have any thoughts of its own. It was trapped.
"Lead the way," Giovanni commanded after recalling his other Pokémon.
With Persian stalking it from behind, the Gastly could only obey.
The Ursaring's territory was located near the deepest part of the forest. The humans enslaved by the Haunter, however, were on the outer edge. Giovanni had clearly gone too far in his search.
It was just as well; it had prevented him from being discovered prematurely. He still didn't know why the Gastly had fled so far, but he suspected it was simply trying to put as much distance as possible between itself and its master.
Through its projected images, he had learned that the Haunter fed once a month. It truly regarded itself as a deity.
It took another two days to travel from the Ursaring's territory to the dwelling place of the "wild people." During this time, the Gastly behaved exceptionally well. It made no attempt to escape and used its unique ghostly senses to help Giovanni avoid dangers in the forest.
Though Giovanni's face remained impassive, his evaluation of the creature improved slightly. In the face of survival, intelligence and adaptability were often more important than mere courage.
Finally, in a hidden valley, they found the forgotten tribe. It was concealed behind a dense grove of trees; without the Gastly's guidance, an outsider would never have discovered it.
The periphery was enclosed by a crude wooden fence. The people inside were dressed in rags, their faces haggard, their eyes vacant, like wooden puppets.
In pens enclosed by more wood were equally listless Pokémon. In the cold, dark corners of the settlement, beneath the shadows, were other Ghost-types, just like his Gastly.
At the very center of the tribe stood a large altar made of stacked stones, adorned with strange symbols, offerings, and pale, white skeletons. Not only on the altar, but in the very soil of the ground, skulls glowed with a faint, chilling light.
The houses, the tools in the wild people's hands—all were made from skeletal remains.
This thousand-year-old Haunter was intelligent. It didn't simply devour its prey; it allowed them to multiply, implementing a sustainable, horrific form of development.
Giovanni's eyes narrowed. Though he felt nothing for these humans, the sight of a Pokémon raising them like livestock, treating them as nothing more than toys and food, filled him with a cold disgust.
He stood up, about to descend. "Let's go down and take a look."
The Gastly frantically tugged at his pant leg, shaking its head and whispering a single, ethereal word: "Overdue."
Giovanni frowned. He had almost acted impulsively. If he went down now and alerted the Haunter, it would be a troublesome, and potentially fatal, complication. He pondered for a moment, then made a decision.
"Let's go back. Now that we know the location, I will tell my comrades about this old thing. I am not confident I can deal with it myself. I will have to let Matt handle it."
With Persian and a relieved Gastly, he quickly headed back the way they came.
After less than ten minutes, however, he encountered a small group of the wild people sitting in an open space, several listless Pokémon beside them. They were roasting something over a fire, something like cured meat— but its color was too bright, a bizarre, unnatural red.
It gave off an unspeakable feeling of nausea, making the hair on his arms stand on end.
Even Giovanni felt a little sick. It was easy to guess what kind of meat it was.