Chapter 640: The First Target, the Desert Spirit
The Rocky Mountain range.
Kazuya cruised through the skyward sectors, gliding his way back to the Aerodactyl territory.
He had established his presence within these rocky peaks for nearly a full month now. Yet, he hadn't officially commenced any aggressive operational maneuvers.
Instead, he had dedicated this window exclusively to charting the geographic coordinates of the resident Dragon-type clans and meticulously surveying the baseline combat power commanded by the Mega-evolved dragons.
Factoring in the biological reality that a Dragon-type Pokémon inherently required a Champion-level foundation to officially begin extracting and absorbing Dragon-type natural energy... and observing the agonizingly slow production velocity generated by his massive collective... Kazuya calculated that within the next ten years, he could completely discard any fantasy of achieving Primal Reversion.
Following that logic, the other Mega dragons inhabiting this range must have breached the Champion echelon a profoundly long time ago.
Thus, Kazuya deemed it absolutely necessary to exercise operational caution, resolving to personally scout the parameters of those Mega dragons before executing his campaign.
Yet, this reconnaissance mission had unearthed a glaring, monumental anomaly.
Not a single Mega dragon currently residing within the Rocky Mountain range had actually relied on Dragon-type natural energy to fuel their evolution.
To date, four distinct Mega-evolved individuals had been cataloged across the rocky peaks: Garchomp, Salamence, Aerodactyl, and the historical patriarch of the Altaria flock.
Aerodactyl's engine demanded Rock-type natural energy.
Meanwhile, Garchomp and Salamence were respectively powered by Ground-type and Flying-type energy.
This was a reality Kazuya only uncovered after personally executing deep stealth sweeps through their sovereign territories. The Dragon-type natural energy actively generated by the Garchomp and Salamence flocks wasn't flowing into the bodies of their Alpha leaders at all; it was simply dissipating harmlessly into the atmosphere.
Later, reflecting on the data more carefully, Kazuya couldn't help but curse his own oversight, realizing he should have logically deduced this from the very beginning.
Mega Garchomp's ability transformed into Sand Force.
Mega Salamence's ability shifted to Aerilate (Flying Skin).
He should have naturally traced the trajectory of these ability modifications straight to the corresponding natural energy requirements.
Ground-type and Flying-type natural energy were incomparably easier to harvest than Dragon-type energy. Ground-type energy saturated the earth everywhere; the desert sector situated to the far south was undoubtedly bursting with it. As for Flying-type energy, it blanketed the entire skyward dome; the sprawling cloud decks were undeniably dense with it.
The Hydreigon clan, on the other hand, was actually absorbing Dragon-type natural energy. Yet currently, their Alpha leader hadn't exhibited even a single shred of structural modification. There was no telling how many years of accumulation were still required to successfully trigger a Primal Reversion. It was entirely questionable whether the titan even possessed a shred of hope of achieving it before succumbing to old age.
Uncovering this reality left Kazuya feeling a profound mix of wry amusement and quiet exasperation. Over the past few years, he had dedicated an immense ocean of effort to this specific puzzle, repeatedly tracking the lingering trails left behind by the Mega Garchomp and Mega Salamence in a desperate bid to locate the source of Dragon-type natural energy.
And it all boiled down to this?
But it didn't matter anymore. He had finally unearthed the absolute truth governing the mechanics.
Simultaneously, this revelation allowed him to lock down a highly reassuring tactical parameter: the true baseline levels of the Garchomp and Salamence Alphas absolutely weren't as terrifyingly exaggerated as Kazuya had initially hypothesized.
To articulate it more accurately: the chronological window since they had officially breached the Champion echelon wasn't actually that prolonged. This was because they had successfully completed their Mega Evolutions long before they had ever touched the Champion threshold.
With this structural piece of intel verified, Kazuya's heart completely settled.
Within the geographic confines of the Rocky Mountain range, Kazuya held absolute confidence that in a strict one-on-one duel, he ranked an undisputed second.
The absolute Top 1 was naturally the sovereign Overlord of the Rocky Mountains—that Tyrantrum whose baseline sat firmly at the upper-tier Champion level, at a minimum. Within the Champion echelon, Kazuya simply didn't possess the mechanical capability to hurdle a seven or eight-level mathematical disadvantage to defeat a draconian Overlord.
Unless, of course, the adversary was a pure Water, Ground, or Dark-type.
However, temporarily holding the line and stalemating the titan for ten or so minutes wouldn't be an issue.
This specific calculation granted Kazuya the tactical breathing room he needed, officially arming him with the absolute confidence to mobilize the Aerodactyl and Altaria vanguards to commence his campaign of conquest.
And their premier target locked dead onto the geographically closest faction: the Flygon and Druddigon lines.
The Druddigon clan represented the mathematically weakest Dragon-type demographic within the Rocky Mountain range. Yet, Kazuya planned to prioritize the subjugation of the Flygon clan first.
After all, the Druddigon were an exceptionally cunning and treacherous lineage that heavily favored nesting deep within narrow, winding subterranean caverns. It was logistically impossible to deploy the Aerodactyl and Altaria vanguards to fight effectively inside those claustrophobic tunnels. Executing that maneuver would be no different from trapping a turtle in a jar or locking the door to beat a dog—except they would be the ones playing the role of the dog.
To successfully dismantle the Druddigon clan, the most flawless tactical approach was to deploy Ground-type Pokémon exceptionally proficient at subterranean excavation (Dig) to flush them out.
Consequently, this logical requirement naturally pivoted Kazuya's targeting sights directly onto the Flygon clan.
Flygon was a Ground Dragon. Because the violent sandstorms whipped up by the frantic beating of their wings produced a melodious acoustic hum that closely resembled the beautiful singing of a female voice, they were widely heralded under the majestic title: The Desert Spirit.
Although their primary combat proficiencies were heavily anchored to aerial dogfights and desert skirmishes, if they could successfully unlock and recall the Dig technique from their genetic memory, the subterranean domain could seamlessly transform into their home turf.
After all, prior to evolving into Vibrava and ultimately Flygon, they had historically thrived for an exceptionally long chronological window as Trapinch, existing entirely beneath the soil.
This was the precise strategic calculation that prompted Kazuya to sequence the Flygon clan ahead of the Druddigon line on his operational schedule.
Securing the Flygon first effectively killed two Pidgeys with one stone. It simultaneously expanded the demographic scale of the Dragon Clan while perfectly laying down the logistical groundwork required to subsequently absorb the Druddigon clan.
"The current status quo blanketing the Flygon clan doesn't appear to be particularly beautiful," Kazuya rumbled, executing a massive stretch as he rose to his feet from the rock face.
Over these past few weeks, he had occasionally cast a scouting glance toward the coordinates of the Flygon clan's territory. Through his observations, he discovered that the Flygon appeared to be suffering continuous, systematic harassment from an unidentified subterranean Pokémon species.
What specific species was orchestrating the raids, Kazuya hadn't bothered to meticulously verify. Regardless, occasionally bypassing the perimeter of the Flygon's sovereign territory, he could consistently spot dozens of excavated craters and sinkholes of varying sizes scattered across the soil.
Initially, he had hypothesized these were merely nesting pits excavated by the Trapinch. But factoring in the physical dimensions of a Trapinch, the proportions simply didn't align.
Following a few additional days of continuous surveillance, Kazuya definitively concluded that the Flygon were currently enduring a relentless wave of ambushes, and their overall survival conditions were visibly deteriorating at a rapid pace.
This was flawlessly corroborated by the fact that recently, the Flygon hadn't mobilized outside their borders to engage in combat against other clans even once.
And this... presented the absolute, perfect tactical window Kazuya had been waiting for.
A flawless opportunity to seamlessly absorb the Flygon clan into the collective without needing to shatter their pride through a bloody, hostile subjugation.
"Wake yourselves up. The operational window has officially arrived." Kazuya turned his heavy skull to survey the resting Aerodactyl scattered across the crater.
Hearing the deep rumble of his voice, the Aerodactyl sequentially shook their groggy heads, dragging their frames upright from the dirt. Having just concluded their afternoon nap, their cognitive faculties were still slightly blurred.
The total volume of Aerodactyl currently garrisoned within this crater sat at a modest 45. However, every single unit across this detachment boasted a baseline level exceeding Lv. 40, and a staggering four individuals sat firmly within the Elite Four echelon. Any asset failing to meet that Lv. 40 threshold had been strictly left behind at the grassland heartland to manage the skyward patrol routes.
Beyond this force, the Altaria flock garrisoned on the neighboring peak fielded 30 combat-ready fighters exceeding Lv. 40, though their Elite Four representation remained exclusively limited to their historical matriarch.
Kazuya was preparing to lead this combined martial vanguard to gracefully "rescue" the Flygon clan from their current plight.
"Let's move out." Kazuya beat his colossal wings, launching his frame into the heavens.
Dozens of Aerodactyl flawlessly synchronized with his momentum, soaring into the sky right behind him. Catching sight of the mobilization from their adjacent peak, the Altaria flock hurriedly beat their cotton-like wings to merge into the formation.
United under Kazuya's lead, the sprawling airborne armada winged its way directly toward the coordinates of the Flygon clan's territory.
The geographic distance separating them was remarkably short. It only took Kazuya's vanguard roughly fifteen minutes to successfully breach the airspace directly above the Flygon's sovereign domain.
Exactly as he had predicted, the current psychological state of the Flygon flock was intensely sluggish and withered. This severe mental fatigue caused their sensory reflexes to drastically dull, and their situational focus was entirely scattered.
Kazuya's massive armada had already descended directly over their heads, yet practically none of the Flygon had even registered their presence.
Finally, a single Flygon sensed a subtle atmospheric anomaly. It lifted its head, and upon beholding the terrifying spectacle of a massive dragon armada suddenly blanketing the sky, it was so profoundly struck with terror that all color drained from its face. It frantically shrieked at the top of its lungs:
"Zeee!!"
The entire territory instantly dissolved into absolute chaos.
However, what left the Aerodactyl and Altaria vanguards genuinely perplexed was the behavioral response of the Flygon.
Upon catching the frantic warning cry of their companion, the very first instinct of the wider Flygon flock wasn't to scan the skyward sectors above them. Instead, they frantically began visually sweeping the surface of the soil surrounding them.
It was only after they caught sight of the massive, overlapping shadows being cast across the earth that they finally snapped their heads up to stare at the flying dragons hovering above.
"Zeee!" The Alpha Flygon unleashed a deep, rumbling bellow.
Yet, buried beneath the aggressive layer of intimidation intended by that roar lay a profound, heavy undertone of undeniable exhaustion.
He was sitting right on the precipice of absolute despair. Enduring the relentless, maddening midnight harassment from that pack of bugs was agonizing enough; now, they had to weather daylight offensives from the local Rocky Mountain clans hunting them down. He genuinely didn't know what future trajectory the Flygon clan could possibly chart anymore.
Migration?
If the Flygon clan possessed the biological capacity to simply abandon this territory, they would have fled an ocean of time ago. But they mathematically couldn't leave this specific mountain.
Because this specific peak was one of the incredibly rare geographic formations across the entire Rocky Mountain range composed primarily of loose sand and soil. The Trapinch absolutely required this specific subterranean environment to survive and mature. The second they abandoned this soil, the Trapinch would be mathematically condemned to biological death.
Cruelly, the few alternative mountain peaks sharing a similar geographic composition were all firmly monopolized by vastly superior Ground-type Overlord clans. The Flygon were absolutely no match for them, leaving forceful relocation entirely off the table.
But remaining anchored here meant enduring the endless, maddening harassment of those subterranean bugs.
At the very beginning, every single time they repelled an ambush, they desperately prayed it was the final raid. Yet, the next wave inevitably arrived. Up to this very day, they had lost count of how many bugs they had slaughtered, yet they were no closer to shattering this suffocating gridlock.
And the result? Before they had even finished exterminating the subterranean threat, an overwhelmingly powerful armada of flying dragons had abruptly descended upon their heads from the sky.
This existence was genuinely becoming impossible to endure.
But regardless of the despair, simply throwing down their arms to quietly await execution wasn't hardwired into the Flygon's biological character. The primal instinct for survival was permanently branded into the genetic code of every living entity. No matter how suffocating the despair, the Flygon had instantly steeled their psychological resolve to mount a desperate, bloody resistance in a frantic bid to carve out a singular sliver of survival.
The Trapinch scattered across the dirt hurriedly executed rapid Dig techniques, burying themselves deep within the soil to ensure they wouldn't mathematically burden the adult fighters of the clan.
"Hold your positions and remain on standby." Kazuya raised a massive claw, waving it backward to signal his armada.
The Aerodactyl and Altaria vanguards immediately dropped their altitudes, touching down along the outer periphery to maintain a relatively "safe" tactical distance from the Flygon flock.
As for Kazuya himself... he descended completely alone, dropping straight down toward the center of the territory.
"Zeee..." The Alpha Flygon narrowed his large, compound eyes.
His dual wings vibrated with a rapid, erratic frequency, projecting a distinct undertone of anxiety. He couldn't decipher Kazuya's true tactical objective.
However, he fundamentally didn't wish to engage Kazuya in combat.
On one hand, he instinctively calculated that he mathematically couldn't win. On the other hand, the aura radiating from Kazuya felt profoundly... kindred, completely snuffing out any raw martial bloodlust he might have otherwise mustered.
"Merge your clan into the Dragon Clan, swear your fealty to me as your King, and we will permanently exterminate your troubles." Kazuya dispensed with all pleasantries, slamming his cards directly onto the table. "I calculate that, recently, your clan has encountered an exceptionally severe operational bottleneck."
He tilted his heavy skull, casting his golden irises toward the ranks positioned behind the Alpha Flygon. He could clearly discern that the bodies of numerous Flygon and Vibrava were heavily littered with deep, jagged lacerations of varying sizes.
Kazuya narrowed his eyes slightly. Analyzing the specific physics of those slicing wounds, the Pokémon species launching these ambushes absolutely possessed remarkably sharp, bladed physical appendages.
"Zeee..." A succession of massive question marks practically materialized above the Alpha Flygon's head.
He stared intently at Kazuya, then shifted his compound eyes to sweep across the disciplined formations of the Aerodactyl and Altaria vanguards resting on the periphery. Commanding a relatively sharp tactical intellect, he roughly synthesized the conceptual definition of the "Dragon Clan" Kazuya was proposing.
It had to be admitted—the Flygon undeniably required external aid. Because they had genuinely been driven into an absolute dead end; they desperately needed a variable to shatter this gridlock.
But... he didn't dare to simply extend his absolute trust.
The suffocating pressure radiating from Kazuya's physical silhouette was simply too overwhelming. So overwhelmingly intense that it almost completely flattened that underlying kindred aura into nonexistence. A single, casual glance from those golden irises was enough to force the Flygon leader's respiratory rhythm to involuntarily stutter and slow down.
The Alpha Flygon needed a moment to meticulously process this calculus.
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