While Zayn's group was busy with their own affairs, let's return to Xian, who was heading to the police station near the museum.
"I can't believe something like that happened on the train earlier. That was insane. And who even has the ability to pull off something like that?" Xian thought to himself as he walked toward the station, still processing the morning's events.
After a fifteen-minute walk, he finally arrived. Alied was already waiting for him inside.
"Hey Alied, did you get any information?"
Alied exhaled heavily, the exhaustion evident in his voice. "Darian was easy enough. I already had Borg's data on file. But Fye Ling? She's been impossible to interrogate. We've already put several personnel on her, and none of them got anywhere. We're moving to the second method now."
Xian let out a long, weary sigh. "Haaaah... How troublesome. She really isn't willing to cooperate, is she?"
They walked further into the station and spotted a man with messy orange hair and bright green eyes, standing beside his Gallade.
"Yo, Ren! How've you been? Long time no see!" Xian called out, waving.
Ren and his Gallade turned toward them, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his face. "Same as always, Senior! Doing just fine!"
Xian studied the Gallade beside Ren and immediately understood what was about to happen. "Looks like you're preparing for a forced interrogation."
Ren shrugged casually. "You know how it is. She won't give up any information unless we make her." He glanced at his notes. "A few personnel already tried the gentle approach—offering reduced sentences, money, all that. She didn't budge. This is the last stop before things get... messy."
Xian felt a chill run down his spine. He'd forgotten how intense his junior could be.
Ren and Gallade started walking toward the interrogation room, a pleasant smile on his face. "Don't worry. I'll get the information you need."
Xian shuddered. He turned to Alied. "That guy's not right in the head. Are you sure about using the second method?"
Alied didn't look concerned. "At worst, she'll suffer some mental strain. It's better than you dealing with it. Come on—let's check the archives."
They headed toward the archive room. As they walked, Xian voiced his thoughts. "Hey Alied, what do you think they're after in this city?"
Alied's response was flat. "Same as always. They're probably looking for something supernatural or magical. And there's likely something like that here."
They reached the archives and found Devon at his computer, work glasses on, Rotom floating beside him as they combed through new files.
Alied spoke first. "Hey Devon! Did you find anything? Is there something in this city?"
Devon's voice was tired. "There are plenty of artifacts in this city. I haven't found anything solid yet. But maybe the old archives have something."
He pulled a key from his desk drawer, then opened a hidden door beneath it. A staircase descended into darkness, lined with shelves of old records.
Xian's jaw dropped as they descended. "I've been to this station before, but I never knew this place existed. The architecture alone is incredible."
Alied glanced around. "This is a city of art. Did you really think it was as simple as what's on the surface?"
Devon turned to them. "Do you have any specific information about what you're looking for? The archives are vast."
Xian and Alied exchanged blank looks. "We don't have any leads," Xian admitted.
Alied's eyes lit up. "Wait. There's an exhibition at the museum tonight." He snapped his fingers. "Why don't we just ask the museum for a list of what they're displaying?"
Xian's face brightened. "That's actually brilliant!"
They hurried back up the stairs. Xian called over his shoulder, "Devon, we're heading to the museum to get the exhibition list. If anything matches, or if Ren finds something during interrogation, let us know on the Pokédex!"
Devon nodded. "Will do. I'll keep checking the digital archives here."
Xian and Alied rushed out toward the museum.
---
**Meanwhile, back at the interrogation room...**
Ren stretched lazily. "Alright. Time to begin."
He and Gallade walked toward a silver-haired man with sharp blue eyes, who was examining evidence files alongside his Smeargle.
"Yo, Aron! Did you get anything good?" Ren asked.
Aron looked up and handed Ren a folder. "Here's what I gathered. The interrogation's yours now." His tone was serious.
Ren took the folder. "You can count on me."
Aron added, "You'll be interrogating one suspect. All the data's in the report."
Ren glanced at the first page. "Fye Ling."
Aron left the room. "I'll handle the other one. Hopefully, this goes quickly."
Ren sat down to read through the file.
*Fye Ling. From Zenithia City. She joined the Phoenix Path.*
He flipped through more pages and let out a low whistle. "Aron really doesn't miss a thing. How did he get her age, family background, school records, even her home address?!"
He stood and walked toward the interrogation room, Gallade at his side.
Fye Ling sat in the chair, her expression unreadable.
Ren took his seat. "I hope you answer correctly. This is your last chance."
She didn't respond. But Ren could feel it—she was thinking, *Try me.*
He reached out with his psychic abilities and realized something. *She's not afraid. No wonder the others failed.*
"Let's start with one simple question," Ren said casually. "Why did you come to this city?"
Fye Ling answered smoothly. "We came for a rare grimoire."
Ren smiled. "You're lying." His tone was still light. "A rare grimoire? Too easy. Too obvious."
Fye Ling's eyes narrowed. *He's not ordinary. Who is he?*
She opened her mouth to speak, but Ren cut her off. "Suspects don't ask questions. You answer."
She felt the weight of his presence pressing against her.
Realizing she couldn't lie freely under this pressure, she activated one of her abilities—blocking Ren from reading her thoughts.
Ren asked again. "Why are you here?"
This time, she decided to throw him a truth, confident she could lie about the rest. "We're here for a relic."
Ren smiled normally now. *This isn't as hard as I thought.*
"What relic?"
"Bloody Crystal." She said it with conviction. It was an artifact. A relic. He should believe her.
Ren's smile vanished.
He raised his hand, and Fye Ling felt herself lifted off her chair and slammed against the wall.
*What's happening?!* Her mind raced. Physical damage meant nothing to a cultivator like her. She could heal. But why had he attacked? She'd blocked his mind reading. There was no way he could tell she was lying—
Ren and Gallade approached. Ren's eyes were sharp, cutting. Then he smiled again.
"You think my abilities are that weak? That you can just block them and I'll never know?" He tilted his head. "I gave you a chance. And yes—I know the artifact you mentioned is real. But Bloody Crystal?" He laughed softly. "That doesn't make any sense."
He lifted her with his psychic power, his grip tightening around her throat. His voice dropped. "Do you even know what a Relic is?"
Fye Ling struggled. *It IS a relic in my region—*
Ren's voice cut through her thoughts. "I know Bloody Crystal is classified as an artifact. But it's a catalyst-type. Did you really think I wouldn't know that?"
He read her confusion easily. "Relics aren't what you think they are. I have a friend—a Mage. He explained that artifacts are classified as Relics only after meeting strict requirements."
He held up three fingers.
"One: They cannot be created. Right there, Bloody Crystal fails. It can be created through a ritual under a lunar eclipse."
"Two: They must possess the ability to create impossibility. True artifacts can rewrite truths. They create their own laws, their own reality."
"Three: And this might be new to you—Bloody Crystal is classified as an Attribute. A catalyst. Organizations like yours don't target those. They're not worth the effort."
Fye Ling's eyes darted toward the door. *I need to get out of here. He's more dangerous than I realized.*
She focused her mind on her core—the fire within her—and activated her technique.
**BOOM!**
The room exploded. Walls cracked. Dust filled the air.
She moved toward the exit—
A blade of psychic energy sliced through her leg. She stumbled.
Through the smoke, Gallade emerged, sword-arms glowing. Ren walked beside him, a psychic barrier shimmering around him, untouched by the blast.
"You could try running," Ren said casually, stepping closer. "But you won't get far from me." He paused. "You want to know why I'm allowed to do this? To someone I'm supposed to be interrogating?"
Fye Ling tried to activate another technique—
**Psycho Cut.**
Gallade's attack sliced across her body before she could move.
"I know cultivators don't die unless their core is destroyed," Ren continued, closing the distance. "And even if you die, you could be revived. There are plenty of ways to come back." He shrugged. "But none of that changes anything."
Fye Ling's eyes blazed. This had gone too far. She gathered all her power, all her energy—
**She detonated the entire building.**
The explosion tore through walls, through floors, through reality itself. Ren and Gallade stood at the center, untouched.
"I admit," Ren said, now standing directly in front of her, "even without Pokémon, you've got courage. But this would be faster if you just told me what you're after."
Fye Ling focused inward. She had merged her mind with her soul. There was no way he could read her thoughts now—
Ren raised his right hand. He pointed at her.
Energy gathered at his fingertip.
He fired.
The attack didn't touch her body. It pierced straight through to her soul.
And in that instant, he saw everything.
---
*The coffee was warm.*
Ren took a slow sip, watching Fye Ling across the interrogation table. She hadn't moved. She hadn't noticed anything.
The explosion. The attacks. The soul-piercing.
None of it had happened.
He had built it all inside her mind. Every moment. Every fear. Every desperate attempt to escape—all a carefully constructed illusion that played out entirely within her soul.
He set down his cup and pulled out his notebook.
*Target Artifact: Nexus Sapphire*
*Objective: Accelerate their cultivation*
He stared at the words. "Seriously? That's the reason?" He sighed. "What a cliché."
He pulled out his Pokédex and called Xian and Alied.
"Senior. I got the information."
Xian and Alied had just arrived at the museum. Alied answered immediately. "What are they after?"
"Nexus Sapphire," Ren said. "They want to use it to speed up their cultivation."
There was a pause on the other end. Both Xian and Alied recognized the name—but neither knew exactly what it did.
Xian's voice came through. "Nexus Sapphire... isn't that the artifact used to make Inventory Boxes? Why would they want that?"
Ren shrugged even though they couldn't see him. "No idea. I searched through her memories—through her soul—and couldn't find a reason. It seems she was just ordered to find it. They didn't tell her what it actually does."
Alied immediately called Devon.
"Devon. Ren got the information. Genryumon is after the Nexus Sapphire."
Devon's Rotom picked up the message. Devon's face went pale. "That artifact's data is classified. It's at headquarters."
Alied frowned. "Can't you request it online?"
Devon gave him a flat look. "You think classified artifact data can just be sent over the network?"
He stood, already gathering his things. "I'm going to headquarters to get the file."
He found Ren on his way out. "Ren, I'm heading to the main office for the artifact records. Keep things under control here. No more explosions."
Ren smiled pleasantly. "Don't worry. Everything will be perfectly calm."
Devon released his Alakazam. "Sorry to trouble you, Alakazam. I need to get to headquarters quickly."
Alakazam observed the situation, understood the urgency, and nodded. "Alakazam."
In a flash, they were gone.
---
Xian and Alied entered the museum. The afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors.
Xian checked his phone. "Ren's done with interrogation. Now we just need to wait for Devon to get that file."
Alied nodded slowly. "Today's going to be a long day."
Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it—that strange tension in the air, like something was about to break.
The museum was quiet. Too quiet.
And somewhere in the city, the clock kept ticking toward evening.