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The number was… three.
Three different Pokémon.
One of them could manipulate tough, sticky threads clearly something Bug-type.
Another had enough raw power to crack the ground with a single strike definitely a physically dominant species.
And the last one…
Kael's eyes narrowed.
A force had plucked every feather clean off a Staravia without leaving a single bruise. No tearing. No kinetic impact.
It was as if an invisible hand had done it with surgical precision.
A Psychic-type?
Kael clenched his fists, chest rising and falling as he exhaled a sharp breath.
The warm air fogged instantly in the cold forest gloom.
It didn't matter what those nightmare Pokémon were Bug-type, Fighting-type, Psychic-type, or something worse.
The moment he crossed paths with them, his fists hardened by Aura would crush their skulls before they could blink.
Faint blue wisps of Aura swirled off his knuckles, stirring the cold air around him.
Then—
A tiny disturbance.
Barely noticeable, but Kael's heightened Aura sense caught it instantly.
"Found you…"
A cruel smirk crept across his face.
He shot forward toward the faint ripple of energy like a launched projectile.
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Meanwhile—Toxicroak
Toxicroak moved cautiously through the dim underbrush, muscles tense, poison sacs pulsing softly along its cheeks.
Its long, slender arms were raised defensively, ready for whatever might lunge out of the shadows.
A dark violet toxin glimmered on its fingertips strong enough to take out a whole truckload of people if applied directly.
As one of the few lone Pokémon participating in the Summer Survival Camp, it was considered a prime target by others.
Every step had to be silent. Every sense is fully alert.
It wasn't as overwhelmingly strong as Kael, but Toxicroak didn't lack confidence.
If it faced one or two opponents, it could escape. Maybe even take someone down with its toxins.
"...rustle… rustle…"
The bushes in front of it suddenly shook violently.
Toxicroak's heart lurched.
It leapt backward, bracing for an ambush.
The poison sacs on its cheeks swelled, and the violet glow on its fingers sharpened into a thin, deadly gleam.
Then, a shape emerged.
A humanoid Pokémon stepped out lean build, spring-loaded khaki legs, and razor-sharp bone spurs at its ankles.
Dark markings framed its eyes, and its pupils were ghost-white.
Hitmonlee.
A Fighting-type famous for kicks powerful enough to shatter boulders.
Its elastic legs allowed unpredictable, lightning-fast strikes.
But instead of attacking, Toxicroak relaxed the moment it recognized the newcomer.
"Damn… you scared the poison out of me."
It patted its chest with an annoyed grunt.
Hitmonlee might be strong, but it wasn't an enemy.
They both came from the same Fighting Dojo.
Camp rules discouraged Dojo members from attacking each other, and they often helped one another instead.
Hitmonlee let out a sigh of its own, clearly relieved to see a familiar face in this murderously quiet forest.
Before Toxicroak could say anything, Hitmonlee turned and waved someone forward.
"Thud… thud…"
Heavy footsteps shook the ground as another shape forced its way through the undergrowth.
A round, yellow-skinned Pokémon lumbered into view, its body padded with thick, protective fat.
Its black glove-like fists rested at its sides, radiating dangerous strength.
Toxicroak tensed.
One clean punch from this thing would knock it out instantly.
Hariyama the Arm Thrust Pokémon.
Another Dojo member.
A small team.
And they looked like they'd already been through hell.
Hariyama's pudgy arms were covered with scrapes, bruises, and cuts.
Several patterned wristbands dangled loosely from its thick wrists earned through hard battles.
Toxicroak's pupils narrowed.
Its heartbeat quickened.
It wasn't exactly popular at the Dojo.
More like… disliked.
And here they all were alone, deep in the woods, with no witnesses.
For a moment, Toxicroak wondered if they planned to settle old grudges.
Hitmonlee quickly waved both hands in frustration, signaling: We're not here to fight!
And truthfully, they had no energy to pick a fight.
Every ounce of stamina mattered in this hostile forest.
No one would waste strength on petty Dojo rivalries not when danger lurked behind every shadow.
Hariyama gave two friendly smacks to its own belly, thud, thud, and offered a goofy smile.
Trying to appear harmless.
Toxicroak still kept a safe distance, poison glowing faintly on its fingertips.
Caution was survival.
And in this forest, that caution had just saved its life.
Because—
Behind them, hidden deep within the shadows…
A pair of feral, predatory eyes narrowed.
A violent hunger radiated from the darkness.
The hunter had found its prey.
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~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
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