The King Mansion's study always smelled faintly of old paper, ozone, and machine oil — a side effect of being half estate, half private research museum. Tall glass cases lined the walls, holding relics from expeditions past: cracked Poké Balls warped by pressure, fragments of ancient armor, fossilized scales sealed behind amber fields.
Cyrus sat at the long central table, his badge case resting in front of him.
The Specter Badge caught the light when he opened it — silver crescent, ghostfire etched along its edges.
Joseph Von King leaned back against the desk, arms folded. "You passed."
"Barely," Cyrus replied. "That gym wasn't testing strength. It was testing focus."
Maren Rei-King adjusted her glasses, already scanning the badge with a handheld analyzer out of habit. "Ghost specialists usually do. The fact you held your ground says a lot."
Cyrus closed the case. "So. You said you had another assignment."
The air shifted.
Not visibly. Just… wrong. Like the room had inhaled.
Somewhere near the ceiling beam, unseen and unannounced, Hoopa listened.
Joseph exchanged a glance with Maren before pushing off the desk. "Divide City."
Cyrus straightened. "That's not local."
"No," Maren said calmly. "It's still on this continent, but travel is restricted. The city enforces badge verification at the perimeter."
Joseph continued, "You'll need two badges to operate freely. Your Specter Badge qualifies you to leave Noctopolis. Divide City's gym is the second requirement."
Cyrus frowned. "What's happening there?"
Maren's expression tightened, not fear, but concern sharpened by data.
"Disturbances," she said. "Localized spatial irregularities. Power fluctuations. Pokémon behavior shifts similar to what you observed at Bloodmoon Mountain — but less concentrated."
Joseph tapped the table. "The difference is, Divide City is populated. Dense. Vertical."
"And tightly regulated," Maren added. "If something destabilizes there, evacuation won't be clean."
Cyrus exhaled slowly. "So you want eyes on the ground."
"We want you," Joseph corrected. "You've already interacted with a Titan-level entity and survived. You adapted instead of escalating. That matters."
The room felt heavier.
A soft, almost inaudible hum echoed faintly, like a child rocking back and forth while humming a tune only they knew.
Maren glanced upward briefly, then back to Cyrus. "There's another reason."
Cyrus didn't interrupt.
"Hoopa," Joseph said bluntly.
Cyrus nodded. "Figured."
"We don't know why it's attached to you," Maren said. "But Divide City sits on an old transit fault — one that predates modern infrastructure. If Hoopa decides to… interact with that space..."
"It could tear the city apart," Cyrus finished.
Silence.
Then a playful whisper threaded through the room, light as breath:
"Heehee~ Hoopa would never break a city… not on purpose."
Joseph's jaw clenched. "It's listening."
"Yes," Cyrus said. "It always is."
Maren sighed, rubbing her temple. "We're not sending you there blindly. You'll travel by private flight. Full support. If anything feels off, you pull back."
Joseph met Cyrus's eyes. "This is optional."
Cyrus looked down at his badge case again. Then at the displays around the room, evidence of risks his parents had taken long before him.
"I'll go," he said.
Hoopa giggled softly, delighted but restrained.
"Yaaay~ new place, new games, new rules~ Hoopa promises to be very good."
"Hoopa," Cyrus muttered without looking up. "No games."
A pause.
Then, almost sincere:"…Maybe small games."
Joseph exhaled through his nose. "You'll need to prepare. Divide City doesn't tolerate improvisation."
Maren smiled faintly. "We'll brief you in the morning."
Cyrus stood, shoulders squared. "Alright."
The assignment was set.The path forward was clear.And somewhere just beyond sight, a mythical presence leaned closer, humming happily as the world expanded around them.
Divide City awaited.