By the time we reach the grove, the sun has dipped low enough to throw long shadows across the ground. The bramble walls, the hollow logs, the training stumps — all still here, but silent.
Empty.
The hum of wings, the clang of blades, the voices — all gone. Only the faint rustle of leaves answers us. Most of them must still be at the front, holding the line, fighting so far from here it feels like another world.
Sokko shifts the Beedrill carcass on his shoulder, frowning. "Where is everyone?"
Maro — the taller one, breathing hard — glances around nervously. "Maybe… they moved?"
"They're fighting at the front," I say flatly, scanning the grove again. "Which means you two are going to stay here. Rest. Eat if you can."
They exchange a look but don't argue. They've had enough for one day. Sokko drops his trophy beside a log with a tired grunt, and Maro follows, wincing as he lowers his.
I turn without another word, my wings buzzing quietly as I head toward the far edge of the grove. There, past a stretch of thick brush, stands a large tree — taller than anything around it, its trunk gnarled and roots sprawling like claws gripping the earth. It's far enough from the others that no one will overhear me.
I stop at its base, resting my scythes against the bark, and let the noise of the day drain away. Here, I can think without the leader's eyes on me. Here, I can feel the weight of what I've done… and what I still need to become.
The large tree towers over me, its bark scarred from years of practice strikes. Some cuts are shallow, just testing edges. Others bite deep, gouges from fighters far stronger than me. I can almost see them in my mind — Scythers of the swarm, wings beating hard, scythes flashing in the sun as they trained here before battle.
I step closer, running my claw along one of the deepest grooves. The wood feels old, dry, but solid. Strong enough to take thousands of blows without falling.
If I'm going to be more than just another weak link in the swarm… this is where it starts.
I tighten my stance, locking my legs in the dirt. My wings snap once, steadying my aim. Then I strike.
Fury Cutter.
The first slash is light, almost a warm-up, barely shaving the bark. I reset my position and swing again — faster this time, the blade biting a little deeper. I feel the rhythm starting to build, the move's power growing inside my arms like a coil tightening.
Third strike — harder, faster — the bark splinters under the blow. My breathing falls in sync with the attacks, each swing heavier than the last, the energy building exactly as it had in the fight. The sound of steel against wood echoes through the empty grove.
I keep going, counting the strikes in my head. I don't stop until the wood chips at my feet form a small pile and my arms burn from the effort.
If this tree can hold all those scars and still stand… so can I.
I just need to be stronger.
I run my claw along one of the deepest grooves, probably made by the leader himself. If I want to survive, I can't just be strong — I need to be fast too. I think back to the Beedrill fight: the speed of Quick Attack, the growing weight of Fury Cutter. If I could chain them together…
I plant my feet and focus. Wings snap open. I launch forward with Quick Attack, closing the distance instantly, my scythe striking the bark with Fury Cutter the moment I land.
Back to position. Again — Quick Attack into Fury Cutter. This time the slash is heavier, the bark chipping away faster.
I push for a third attempt. The movements blur together — speed flows straight into power, power into speed — and the impact sends a small shower of wood chips to the ground.
It's not perfect. The attacks are close, but still a little rough. I repeat it again and again, tightening the timing, forcing my body to flow without hesitation. Soon the space between Quick Attack and Fury Cutter is gone, the two moves hitting almost as one.
When I finally stop, my arms burn and my breathing is rough. The section of bark I've been striking is stripped bare, the wood underneath raw and fresh. I step back, scythes still trembling from the effort.
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By the time I stop, the sun is almost gone. The grove is washed in orange light, shadows stretching long across the ground. My arms ache, my legs feel heavy, and every swing of my scythes has left a fresh sting in my muscles.
Hours. I've been at this for hours. And still, it isn't enough. Out here, I could die any day — to Beedrill, Pinsir, even my own weakness. Training isn't optional. It's survival.
I shake the sweat from my wings and step away from the tree, heading toward a patch of bushes I know grows berries. The branches scrape my arms as I push through. The berries are small, dark, and sour, but they fill the emptiness in my stomach. I eat them one after another, the taste bitter on my tongue.
When the hunger dulls, I sit back against a root, letting the last light fade through the leaves above me. My scythes rest at my sides, still faintly marked with dried Beedrill blood.
I think about who I used to be. A human. Someone who could walk into a store, eat warm food, sleep in a bed. Someone who didn't fight for their life every week. That person doesn't exist anymore.
Now, I'm Scyther. I need to bleed with the swarm, I need to fight with the swarm… and one day, I'll need to die with the swarm. My hands aren't hands anymore — they're blades. My life isn't measured in years, but in how many battles I survive.
I take another berry, chewing slowly. The taste is sharp and real. This is my world now
My body. My fight. There's no going back.
The thing in which pokemon world am I?
One without humans or maybe the anime one or the Manga
Maybe but what if If I am in a different time
But even then in which region am I
The most logical is kanto or johto but johto is more likely because of that ursaring group in this forest
But The forest around here is massive — far bigger than any map could hold. It's broken into countless territories, each claimed by something strong enough to defend it. Scyther hold this grove, but beyond it are Beedrill swarms, Pinsir hunting grounds, and others even the leader doesn't speak about. Borders shift with every battle, territory gained and lost in the space of a few days. Thinking about how much land is out there makes this little training spot feel small… but it's the start.
After reflecting my training I knew it would make me stronger but it is not enough but
How can I get stronger
The best Option would be a Trainer while I don't want to be a slave but TMs could easyly make stronger or battle items or the pokeblocks as Nutrition-rich food or mega Stones,z crystal,dynamax band
A Trainer could make me stronger
But is strength worth my freedom and my anwser no
I will get stronger rule the Scyther tribe then rule the forest and become the strongest