Friday, June 9th, 1978, 1835

"Hypno, put up a barrier. I don't want anything touching me," Adrien ordered. "Sneasel. Look for an opportunity to eliminate one of them. Preferably a trainer, but you can snack on some of their pokemon if you want."

He glanced back at the dead guard's team. "You two. Swat some bugs, please. Don't hold anything back. Do it for him, your murdered trainer," he said with a gesture to the now waterlogged corpse staining the pool crimson.

Adrien emphasized the word murder as if their trainer hadn't been drowning me when he died. Selective morality, much? I couldn't help but feel a strong sense of injustice at the blatant hypocrisy.

The grieving pokemon advanced steadily; even the Graveler left the position it had maintained for the last few moments. I could feel the ground rumble as it methodically approached, one lumbering step after another.

"Scyther, Beedrill. Go for the Machoke. Ignore the Graveler for now. Use moves at your own discretion," commanded Dani from behind me.

Not to be left out, I issued my own orders, doing my best to keep the tremors from my voice. I was shaking like a leaf. "Eon, join Beedrill and Scyther. Nana, start probing the Hypno. As much power as you can. Larvitar. Keep your distance; I don't want you getting hurt."

My instructors had constantly lectured about the chaos of battle, but this was the first time I had experienced it first-hand. I recoiled at the overwhelming flurry of movement as all participants broke into movement as one. I could hardly keep track of the battlefield, only a few seconds in. All of Kiriel's stories held new meaning, and I found myself just slightly less angry about her intense training methods.

Beedrill moved first. The bug-type shot forward; his lances stained red with yet-to-dry blood. Instantly, he zipped towards the Machoke, jabbing aggressively with a rapid series of lightning-quick thrusts, alternating between his two lances and stinger. His recent training had paid off; the pokemon was much smoother than his first match with Eon.

Displaying grace incongruent with its muscular appearance, I watched in misplaced awe as the fighting type dodged the first several strikes with startling fluidity. A lucky hit went through, and Beedrill's stinger lodged deep into its biceps. The pokemon tightened its abdomen, thrusting up with as much force as he could manage.

This won't be so bad if we can get it poisoned. If we're lucky...

I pumped a fist as the appendage pulsed sickly, imparting its poisonous load, and Machoke cried out in pain as the toxin began inundating his system through its torn arm.

My excitement was short-lived; before Beedrill could retreat, its 'prey' managed to sweep its other hand around and pull the hornet into a tight headlock, even as the movement pushed the stinger deeper.

We watched in alarm as the Machoke's muscled body bulged in effort as it began to twist, leveraging its great strength against the fragile pokemon. The Beedrill's chitinous body was ripped nearly in two by the vice-like force. The pokémon's now cloven husk fell lifelessly to the ground without even a sound of protest. Ichor sizzled as it hit the water, spewing acrid clouds of acidic vapor, coloring the nearby mist a putrid green color.

I gaped openly at the lethal maneuver, waiting for Dani's inevitable cry of anguish, but none came. I resisted the urge to check in on her, fearing the worst. Most trainer battles never devolved into violence like this, and it was rare, but not unheard of, for pokemon to die in battles.

Not that this is a battle. More like an all-out brawl where the winner is the best dodger.

My fears were seemingly misplaced as she spoke out in a clinical tone, "Change of plans. Scyther. Stay with me. Geralt, join Nana in testing Hypno's defenses."

Eon, too hardened to falter at the sight of a companion's demise, continued her charge toward larger pokemon. She knew better than to blatantly confront a more powerful pokemon, so she focused on nipping the Machoke's ankles, looking for a tendon or ligament to dig into.

After brutally snuffing the bug out, the fighting-type flexed its arms in a show of dominance, forgetting for a moment the charging fox-kin it considered beneath notice. Eon took the opportunity to dart in low, lunging to savagely tear out a chunk of flesh from the pokémon's ankle before hopping back to create space to avoid a counter like the one that ended Beedrill.

Good. I nodded in approval at her tactics. We've trained our entire lives for this. Somehow, even after watching a pokemon I had trained with the last week die, I still felt relatively calm if indecisive. I can do this.

Bellowing in pain and outrage, the Machoke attempted to follow Eon, but its damaged leg folded with a grating snapping noise that curdled my stomach as its Achilles gave out, dropping it to one knee. Undaunted, the Pokemon limped forward, but Eon pranced neatly out of range, chuffing at the pokémon's fruitless grasping.

Leave it to Eon to tease an injured Pokemon in the heat of battle. Unbelievable, even after Beedrill was snuffed out like that.

Simultaneously, Nana had taken to my orders with gusto, charging up a potent Fire Blast that made me instinctively want to cover my eyebrows. I resisted the urge. I was concerned that the training had exhausted him, but the searing flame gave no indication he was even remotely depleted.

As per Dani's command, Geralt added the attack, and a billowing wave of fire jetted toward the psychic type and its trainer. The Hypno's brow furrowed in concentration, and the flames parted on an invisible barrier in twin pillars towards the heavens. Whisps of steam rose from my sodden shorts at the heat's proximity.

My heart sank when visibility returned. As the fire dissipated, Hypno and Adrien appeared; they were nearly untouched by the searing heat save for a bead of sweat on his brow. The Sneasel was nowhere to be seen. It must have used the fire to cover its movements.

Icy panic infiltrated my veins as I frantically scanned the surroundings for the vicious-looking pokemon. At this time, Larvitar hurried forward and stood beside me, holding my pant leg for comfort. His face was scrunched up with worry, but he still stood ready.

Just as I began attempting to retreat closer to the building, Eon cried out in pain as she was struck by a fast-moving projectile. The damage didn't look critical; the rock hit her rear haunches, but she was still moving decently, at least.

She limped her way back toward us, her face impassive despite the pain I knew she must be feeling. Blunt trauma is the worst. I would much rather be cut than bludgeoned, I thought, recalling the many times Koga had beaten me black and blue to emphasize whatever lesson he deemed worthy at the time.

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Graveler finally made a move; the rock-type efficiently used its four arms to move forward and fling an onslaught of sharp rocks whistling in our direction.

"Fuck," I cursed as I dived backward, looking for any cover from the numerous projectiles speeding our way. Nana had my back, though, and spewed a series of crackling embers to intercept the attacks. A succession of minor explosions rang out, but he deflected most of the attacks. Fragments of rock tore through the surrounding foliage, leaving tiny fires in their wake.

"Not bad," complimented Adrien's condescendingly. "But not good enough. Nice knowing you!"

As I crashed into foliage, I realized something was seriously wrong; icy lines had erupted across my abdomen. Lying on my back, I reached down to feel the damage. I grimaced; far too much blood was pouring out between my tightly clenched fingers, and I could feel my stomach's thick skin divided in three thick gashes. The wound was long, stretching diagonally from my lower abdomen up to nearly my nipple line.

With dawning recognition, I realized the attack must have come from the missing Sneasel. I concluded it must have somehow dashed underneath me as I sought cover from Graveler's attacks. Strangely, I felt no pain, just an odd freezing sensation disjunct from what I knew of slashing injuries.

A malicious cackle rang out, sending trickles of fear shivering through my body. I saw the Sneasel reappear in a blur near its trainer. Its claws dripped red, and it had a sick smile. It stared me down, bringing its claws up to slowly lick the droplets off before they fell to the ground.

"Mare! Mare, are you okay?" I heard Dani cry. Her voice sounded distant, like it was underwater or shouted through a packed room of people in an entirely too small space.

A cluster of movement ensued, and my Pokemon were shortly by my side. Eon growled defiantly at the opposing pokemon, daring it to come closer. I started to worry when I noticed Nana's normally unflappable demeanor radiated concern.

He looked at me with dark eyes that were fearful for perhaps the first time in years. It rattled me more than I expected, and I felt the frigid tendrils of panic clawing their way into my chest. My limbs were deadened, worse than when I spent hours in the icy water without respite.

My nihilistic spiral was interrupted as Geralt whinnied loudly before charging forward, wreathed in leaping flames. His target appeared to be the wounded Machoke. Due to Eon's maiming tactics, the pokemon could not dodge effectively and simply held its ground, holding up its arms defensively, hoping its thick limbs might be enough to shrug off Geralt's attack.

The shield made of its own flesh failed, and the whole mass of the fire-horse crashed into it, swiftly blackening its toned body. The Machoke careened into the deeper side of the pool, landing with a sizzle as its heated form contacted the water.

The scent of burnt meat permeated the air, causing me to gag from my position on the ground, my stomach heaving in revulsion at the sickly-sweet aroma. It wasn't the first time I encountered burnt bodies, but it brought me back to my unfortunate run-in with the Salamence. Pokemon bodies smell just like humans, I noted.

I wasn't sure if it was dead or simply injured beyond response, but the pokemon sank into the deeper water without any sign of movement. Graveler took the opportunity to attack Geralt, summoning an avalanche of rocks onto the aging horse's back.

The super-effective attack hit him hard, and his legs buckled, but he shook it off with a grunt, sending a scattering of boulders around the area. From my position on the ground, I couldn't see the damage, but I heard the tinkling of broken glass. Ona may finally make an appearance if we damage her property enough, I thought wistfully.

Geralt attempted to hit Graveler with another Flare Blitz but was pushed back before the move could complete; the rock pokemon catapulted toward him, arms outstretched. In much the same way as Machoke had dispatched Beedrill, the Graveler attempted to grapple the hulking fire type around the neck.

Larvitar reacted swiftly, firing off repeated high-pressured Water Guns that chipped flakes from the rock type's tough hide, leaving ugly splotches of red flesh behind.

The Graveler was sent reeling onto the hard courtyard, unable to maintain his hold in the face of Geralt's wild flailing and Larvitar's powerful shots. They were weaker than the initial attack on the guard, but they were much improved from where he had started. Adversity really does improve growth, I thought as I noticed the changes.

I struggled to a kneeling position, keeping my eye on the Sneasel the entire time. It leered at me, apparently finding amusement in my suffering. It shifted forward as if to attack again but was forced off course as Nana sent a gout of flame in its direction, searing it. It recoiled from the heat, displaying vulnerability to the incessant attacks.

Nana continued harrying the malicious-looking Pokemon with repeated splashes of embers meant to stall rather than injure. The dark type seethed in frustration at being denied its rightful prey. Even as it hopped around dodging Nana's attack, I could feel the threat from behind its scarlet eyes.

Seemingly, out of nowhere, Scyther flitted behind the dark pokemon, ripping across its back with both scythes. Without missing a beat, the Sneasel spun around, getting a quick counter in against the bladed pokemon.

Scyther screeched, taking a long hop back toward Dani using his pseudo-wings. Blood seeped from a slash on his arm, but it didn't look too serious. His eyes burned with frustration at the ineffectiveness of his attacks.

Leaning heavily on Eon and Larvitar, I climbed to my feet while holding one hand firmly to my stomach. The wound bled heavily but fortunately didn't appear to penetrate beyond the outer layers of skin and muscle.

I breathed a sigh of relief; injuries of this nature were often lethal due to the acute risk of infection as bowel contents spilled into the abdominal cavity. However, it looked slightly frostbitten, which explained why it wasn't hurting as much as it should have. Sneasel must have an ice typing in there somewhere. Nana's on the right track.

By this time, Dani had moved forward to meet me, trading positions with Eon so the fox pokemon could support Geralt. Nana left with her to cover her from Sneasel's sneaky movements. Together, Dani and I limped toward the inn, trying to ignore Adrien's jeering voice ringing out behind us.

"Run, little prey; run away so I can find you another day! Now that she's had a taste, Sneasel won't stop until she's whetted her appetite. Oh, the joy of dark-types. They can never get enough." He spoke in an almost sing-song fashion, but wildly off key. I usually would have thought it silly, but the circumstances gave it a new sense of gravity. I felt chills down my back and forced my numb limbs to carry me away as quickly as possible.

I could still hear Geralt and the Graveler fighting. It didn't sound pretty, but I had more pressing issues; I grew increasingly woozy from the mounting blood loss paired with the overall abuse I had taken in a short period. Eon and Nana would need to be enough.

"Mare! What happened to you?!" shouted a panicked Ellie, who finally arrived on the scene in full. She and her team emerged from the main lobby entrance. Willow was wrapped around her neck protectively, but the rest of her pokemon looked around with wide eyes, uncertain what was happening. She was wearing Pikachu pajamas, of all things.

"Chans!" Anabelle cried out in alarm, shuffling forward to examine my abdomen. The healing pokemon clicked her tongue in disapproval, bending over to begin work on the wound. I noted absently that Ellie had found her another dress; this one was a dark blue, which contrasted nicely with her pale pink skin.

"Hey, Ellie," I said weakly. "Glad to see you finally ma—"

Before Anabelle could begin patching me back together, we were collectively sent sprawling off our feet as a wave of psychic energy barreled into us. It was like getting hit with a brick wall you couldn't sense until it was mercilessly wrapping you up in a cocoon of suffocating force, crushing the life from your body like a bartender might a juicy lime on a hot summer day. As if the biggest and heaviest of weighted blankets had descended upon us, I found myself completely unable to rise from my position on the ground.

There was a crash above us, and I barely managed to roll away before Geralt's hopefully unconscious body landed heavily in the recently vacated space. I gulped at the close call; the pokemon had to weigh several hundred kilos, or near to it.

The pokemon looked distinctly worse for wear; one of his knee joints was bent oddly, and blood oozed from purple contusions spread across his body. Graveler did a real number on him. I relaxed slightly as I saw his chest rise and fall. Thank Arceus, he's alright; I don't know what Dani would do if she lost him, too.

A shadow passed over my head, and I winced as I saw Nana's abused form crumple against the wooden edge of the building with a hollow thud. However, he wasn't out and stood up shakily, looking ready to charge again. He stopped himself, dutifully looking my way for permission. I shook my head; I wanted him to be close to me for the time being. Where is Eon? Imagining her facing down Sneasel and Hypno alone made me sick to my stomach.