Chapter 7
Morning light filtered across the estate's eastern training grounds, a wide stretch of grass bordered by trimmed hedges. It was usually reserved for practice duels between noble heirs and their Pokémon, a place of display as much as discipline. Yet on this particular morning, the field was nearly empty—save for Alaric, a basin of river water, and Perseus thrashing within.
The sound of splashing carried across the grounds, drawing whispers from passing servants. They had grown used to his unusual routine, but the location made it different. The training grounds were sacred to noble reputation, a stage where lineage proved its superiority. To bring a Magikarp here was, to most, an act of mockery against the very idea of noble tradition.
Alaric knew this. That was why he had chosen it.
"Prestige is worthless if it fears scrutiny," he murmured as Perseus splashed once more, tail striking water in steady rhythm. His eyes remained sharp, measuring every motion. "They will laugh louder here. Let them. What rises here will silence them all the more."
Before long, the laughter came.
A boy of similar age approached, flanked by two attendants. He was dressed in the deep blues of House Veylan, a lesser noble line allied loosely with the Astraeus family. His name was Cedric Veylan, known for his arrogance as much as his family's growing ambition.
"Alaric," Cedric drawled, his eyes sweeping over the basin. "I thought the rumors exaggerated. But it seems true—you've chosen a Magikarp as your partner."
Alaric did not rise, nor did his expression shift. He continued observing Perseus as though Cedric were nothing more than a breeze passing through. "And what of it?"
Cedric laughed, his attendants joining obediently. "What of it? Only that you've made yourself the joke of every gathering. While others train Growlithe or Nidoran, the heir of Astraeus flails about with a fish."
Perseus splashed again, droplets catching sunlight like fragments of glass. Alaric finally turned, his violet eyes meeting Cedric's with calm sharpness. "Tell me, Cedric—do you mock because you see weakness, or because you fear what you cannot understand?"
The boy blinked, taken aback for a moment, then scowled. "It's weakness, plain and simple. A Magikarp can do nothing. It has no fangs, no fire, no wings. You're wasting your time."
Alaric rose to his feet, slow and deliberate. He stepped closer, the faintest edge of a smile tugging at his lips. "And yet… even in your mockery, you give it attention. Remember this moment well. The day will come when you regret underestimating what you see now."
Cedric scoffed, but Alaric had already turned back to Perseus. "Continue," he ordered softly. The Magikarp splashed again, tail beating harder as though sensing its master's resolve.
Cedric's smirk faltered. There was no fear in Alaric's demeanor, no hint of embarrassment despite the mockery. Instead, there was certainty—unshakable, unnerving certainty. It made Cedric hesitate, though pride prevented him from showing it.
He muttered something under his breath and left with his attendants, but Alaric caught the flicker of unease in his eyes. That was enough.
By midday, Alaric carried Perseus from the basin to the river once more. This time, he waded deeper into the current, the water rising to his knees. Perseus swam freely, fighting against the flow with surprising endurance.
"Good," Alaric murmured. "The current resists you, but resistance builds strength. Do not yield."
The Magikarp struggled, swept backward, then pushed forward again. Each flick of its tail grew sharper, more deliberate. Alaric watched with quiet satisfaction. "They call you weak because they see the surface. But strength is not a moment—it is a foundation. And foundations are invisible until the tower stands."
Suddenly, a shadow darted beneath the water. Alaric narrowed his eyes as a wild Poliwag emerged, curious at the commotion. It circled Perseus, wide-eyed, then lashed out with a quick jet of water.
The attack struck Perseus, pushing it back several feet. The Magikarp flailed but steadied, turning with surprising tenacity. It splashed forward, tail beating hard enough to send ripples against the Poliwag.
It was not an attack that would cause harm—but it was defiance.
The Poliwag blinked, surprised by the response. It darted forward again, striking with another burst of water. Perseus was thrown back, struggling against the current, but it did not sink. It thrashed again, fighting to remain upright, eyes burning with instinctive will.
Alaric's voice cut through the air, calm but commanding. "Do not falter, Perseus. Every strike endured is a step toward your awakening. Resist. Endure. Fight."
Perseus splashed once more, harder than before. Its body arced briefly above the surface, catching the sunlight before crashing back into the river. The water rippled outward, startling the Poliwag, which hesitated just long enough for Perseus to push back against the current, regaining ground.
Alaric's lips curved faintly. "Yes. That is it. Not victory yet, but resilience. And resilience, Perseus, is the seed of triumph."
After a few more exchanges, the Poliwag grew bored and darted away downstream. Perseus remained, body heaving with effort, but still afloat, still thrashing.
Alaric stepped closer, extending a hand into the water. Perseus swam toward him, brushing against his palm. The bond was silent, wordless, yet undeniable.
"You endured," Alaric whispered. "That is enough. Today, endurance. Tomorrow, strength. And one day… transcendence."
That evening, he returned Perseus to the estate's courtyard. Servants whispered again, repeating Cedric's mockery, but Alaric ignored them all. Instead, he opened his ledger and wrote carefully:
Day Seven: Encountered wild Poliwag. Perseus resisted despite repeated strikes. No fear. No surrender.
He closed the book with finality, gaze turning toward the basin where Perseus rested. The Magikarp's gills rose and fell steadily, body still shimmering faintly under the lantern light.
"They call you useless, Perseus," Alaric said softly, voice carrying the weight of promise. "But I will forge from your weakness a weapon none will expect. Together, we will become the story they tell in hushed tones—the one that proves every mocker wrong."
The Magikarp splashed weakly, droplets sparkling in the lamplight. To anyone else, it was meaningless thrashing. But to Alaric, it was the first step of destiny.
And as the moon rose over the Astraeus estate, he knew the game had begun—not only for Perseus, but for himself. The nobles were watching now. Cedric would spread his laughter, and others would join. That was fine. Let them mock.
For Alaric von Astraeus did not need their approval. He needed only time. And time, he knew, was already on his side.