Cynthia's baffled murmur reached everyone's ears.
Suicune and Raikou?
The guess made Nemona, Iono, and Liko widen their eyes. They weren't walking encyclopedias like Cynthia, but they'd seen the Johto legends in books and footage. The two Pokémon before them did share a silhouette—yet the raw, feral pressure rolling off them was nothing like those holy guardian beasts.
"Miss Cynthia… are they really Suicune and Raikou?" Liko whispered, clutching Haunter tighter.
"Feels… not quite the same," Nemona frowned, battle-bright eyes now tinged with confusion.
While the others reeled from Cynthia's guess, Jason finally snapped out of his daze. He sighed—time to give these girls a quick primer.
"Uh…" His voice wasn't loud, but it drew every gaze. "They aren't the Raikou and Suicune you know."
He wriggled to a comfier squish.
"They're Paradox Pokémon. Like the Roaring Moon we just fought—ancients. The one that looks like Suicune is Walking Wake, and that giraffe-neck 'Raikou' is Raging Bolt."
Short and clear.
"Paradox…?" Nemona echoed, eyes alight with curiosity. "So they're the ancient versions of Raikou and Suicune?"
Jason shook his head. "Strictly speaking, Paradox species aren't actually 'those' Pokémon's past or future forms."
He used to think the ancient/future labels meant "old/new versions." But the Johto trio's lore—burned and revived by Ho-Oh—breaks simple timelines. So the tidy "ancient/future form of X" theory doesn't hold water.
Not that Jason cared to debate taxonomy now.
He just wanted to know why these two monsters were suddenly here.
"Bottom line: they're strong. And they don't look friendly."
Cynthia listened, thoughtful gray eyes flickering. She didn't doubt him. From Iron Valiant to Roaring Moon, it was obvious Area Zero held secrets well beyond common ken. This would need proper research someday.
"Walking Wake. Raging Bolt…" she murmured, fixing the names in memory. Her gaze shifted from surprise to a trainer's appraising focus.
Jason's lecture didn't last.
"ROAR!"
"Hsss!"
Two very different cries detonated like thunder—ancient power that made eardrums ache.
They moved.
The ground heaved like a small quake. On one side, an underground river exploded as a sleek, draconic figure sprinted across the surface—each step throwing out ringing ripples.
Walking Wake—more predatory than any modern Suicune.
On the rocks to the other side, a blinding sheet of lightning blew apart the cliff face. A behemoth with an absurdly long neck, like a qilin stepping from thunderclouds, leaped down—"BOOM!"—its weight punching a shallow crater into bedrock, dust and shards fountaining up.
Raging Bolt—the ancient thunder beast.
Water and lightning. Left and right. Their arrival was pure shock and awe. Twin red glows stared coldly across the zone.
Cynthia's six were instantly in stances. Dragon Claws gleamed on Garchomp. Lucario's palms gathered aura. Milotic coiled, ready to strike.
Nemona's fingers closed on a Poké Ball. Iono hissed excitedly into her stream, "They're coming! Family, place your bets—can Champion One-V-Two?!"
What happened next froze everyone in place.
The two juggernauts, all murderous momentum, reached the front line—and didn't even look at Cynthia or her six.
They slid past the formation as if the humans weren't there.
It felt like seeing two runaway dump trucks barreling at you—heart in throat, last words chosen—only for both to drift around you at the last second.
Weird didn't begin to cover it.
Cynthia's lips were parted mid-command. Nemona's battle fever stuck halfway up. Liko's jackrabbit heartbeat hit pause.
Jason was speechless. "What the—looking down on us, are we?"
The pair stopped at the rim of that massive crater. They stared into the pit, at Roaring Moon's cooling, rigid corpse.
Their "voices" drifted into Jason's head; he translated on the fly.
Walking Wake spoke first, low and rough, a strange tremor in the tone. "Didn't expect this one to be dead."
No sadness—just surprise.
Raging Bolt's too-long neck swayed; its voice came rumbling and hollow. "Shame we're late. I thought it would choose—run with you, or run with me."
Regret, plain and simple.
Walking Wake fell silent a few beats, apparently conceding the point.
Two ancients stood over a body, chatting as if no one else existed. Jason didn't need more context: they'd come to recruit Roaring Moon. Competing headhunters, both wanting it as their lieutenant—and arrived to find the candidate already dead.
As Jason grumbled internally, they kept on.
Walking Wake lifted its gaze from the corpse and turned—slowly—toward the group. Red lenses drifted over Cynthia, Nemona, Iono, and Liko.
"Humans," it rasped. "So they finished it. Not bad."
Flat. Neither praise nor contempt—just a footnote.
Before that landed, Raging Bolt moved without warning.
"BOOM!"
A yellow streak, that mountainous body becoming lightning, tore straight at Jason and company. Faster than it had any right to be. Even Walking Wake hesitated, thrown by the sudden charge.
"What's he playing at?" Wake frowned, muttering. In its view these humans were spent—little threat. What was Bolt in such a hurry for?
With that thought, Wake looked more closely. It let its eyes pass over the "weak" girls and settle on the line of Pokémon barring their way.
First, Garchomp—seasoned predator's dragon might, honed in countless battles.
Then Lucario—waveguide like forged steel, will steady as iron.
Last, Iron Valiant—future-born edge so cold and keen it cut even through exhaustion.
Wake's eyes changed.
Interest sparked where flatness had been.
Now it understood.
It understood why that blockhead Raging Bolt had lunged in without a word.
Those weren't his targets.
"Figures…" Wake said softly, equal parts realization and irritation. "He wants to snatch them before I do."
So that was it—Bolt had marked these powerful Pokémon as recruits and was trying to poach first.
"Annoying idiot."
Wake shot its rival a look full of disdain and then, of course, joined the rush—blue water-arrow streaking in to avoid losing the draft picks.
Raging Bolt skidded to a stop not ten meters from Cynthia, a wall of pressure slamming outward. Fine arcs crawled over its pillar limbs, snapping with tiny "pops."
Walking Wake pulled up farther back—not too close, not too far—a poised bystander with options, red eyes playing between Bolt and the line of six.
This was getting very strange very fast.
Iono instinctively tugged Liko and Nemona behind her and sank into a ready crouch. Liko's palms were slick; she clutched Nemona's sleeve and peered around it, eyes huge.
Nemona stared bold as ever.
Jason, the focus of every glance, had exactly one thought:
That neck really is something. It's like a living giraffe-dragon.
Silence stretched. Then Raging Bolt spoke, voice like muffled thunder.
It didn't look at Cynthia. It looked past her—locked onto Garchomp, Lucario, and Valiant.
"Interested in running with me?"
Blunt. Arrogant. Not an invitation so much as a notice served. As if being noticed was an honor.
Every Pokémon blinked.
Jason nearly slipped from Iono's hands. What? It's here to head-hunt?
He'd braced for an earth-shaking battle. The thing came to… poach?
Garchomp answered first. It didn't even spare Bolt a proper look. A rough, dismissive growl rolled from its throat.
"No."
Clean. Immediate. No wiggle.
Behind it, Lucario, Milotic, Spiritomb, Glaceon, and Togekiss all dipped their heads, perfectly in time. No words—but a unanimous stance.
Raging Bolt's plated face hid any expression, but the wild arcs flashing hotter around its body and the deepening red in its eyes said enough.
Insulted. Rebuffed so flatly, its pride had been stabbed.
"Fools," it said, ice-cold. "Your minds shackled by mere humans, and you don't even know it. Why choose to serve the weak?"
The air tightened.
Cynthia's six took one half step forward in unison.
Jason exhaled, slow.
"Yeah," he said under his breath. "This just went sideways."
~~~
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