SPENCER’S POV

Now what?

I raised my front paws to protect my face, but that wouldn’t work. Not well enough. Besides, sooner or later I would need to launch an attack if I hoped to make progress.

Within seconds, there were dozens of wild Pokémon in the room, their expressions positively feral with hunger. Many of them had anywhere from three to six eyes, which no longer surprised me. But that didn’t make it any less horrifying.

“Don’t just stand there, do something!” Calvin commanded.

But I was frozen in place, struck by just how many monsters had been waiting in the wings. They were going to corner us if we didn’t act quickly.

Unless we fought them. That prospect, however, was about as far from appealing as it’s possible to be.

We three members of Team Earthlink arranged ourselves in a circle around the Incineroar statue, which remained dormant for the time being. Whatever spell Enfield had placed in its body had put it down for a good period of time. But how much time?

More importantly, did it even matter?

I silently appraised our chances. One monster, we could take easily. Two, maybe. Three would be pushing it. Four, definitely not. Five, absolutely not. And there were at least fifty in the atrium, all closing in on the statue (and therefore the three of us).

They’re toying with us, I realized. They’re so confident they’re going to win that they’re acting like it’s a Sunday drive.

Well, I wasn’t going to take it. Something about our enemies being so sure of themselves that they would mock Team Earthlink this way made fury rise within me like a torrent of vomit. A more apt analogy, of course, would be a torrent of fiery breath, because that’s exactly what left my mouth a moment later.

One of the monsters was a Bonsly. And you might not think a mere Bonsly would be such a threat, but this broccoli guy had three heads and was seven feet tall.

Even as the Bonsly and a four-eyed Treecko approached me, I felt some hope. After all, there were so many monsters that they might well trip over themselves trying to attack us. We could divide and conquer, getting through this group little by little. It might take hours, but we’d still be alive by the end…hopefully.

Anyway, my flame torched one of the Bonsly’s heads. For a moment, I was satisfied. One down, a few dozen to go!

My satisfaction was short-lived, however, when a head grew back in its place. And then another grew beside it. In other words, I’d literally made negative progress.

“Fuck!” I shouted. “It’s a fucking Hydra Bonsly!”

The Bonsly lashed out with its forked tongue, and I leaped out of the way…right into the arms of a Crobat!

The Poison-type snatched me in midair and started carrying me upward gradually. From this vantage point, I had a decent view of the battle below.

It wasn’t going well. Sure, at least several enemies lay unconscious at the feet of my teammates, but at least double that number were closing in on Enfield and Calvin. What was more, I thought I saw the room turn red again - a prelude to the dreaded fire alarm!

I covered my ears instinctively, and sure enough, the sirens lashed out once more, torturing every inch of my body. The Crobat still had me in its clutches, though, and it spun me around the atrium, circling around and around like a broken version of that giant swing ride they have at amusement parks.

Is it going to poison me? As if this isn’t going badly enough!

But the Crobat didn’t sink its fangs into my fur. Rather, it threw me forward, and I fell toward the ground, shaking my legs in all directions.

I was just about to hit the ground when I was picked up by Enfield. Let me tell you, that Emolga might be small, but don’t let that fool you. He was stronger than a Tauros.

“Next time you’re going to fall from a great height, I would like a memo beforehand!”

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed; hopefully it came across that I was grateful Enfield had saved my ass.

Enfield carried me back to the statue and deposited me on the ground. Calvin was there too, leaning back against the dais and likely hoping for divine intervention or something similarly miraculous.

But the sirens kept sounding, and it wasn’t long before even more monsters entered the room. The reinforcements had arrived, and they were going to make mincemeat of us if we didn’t do something.

“We need to make a run for it!” I yelled, struggling to be heard.

“It’s futile!” Enfield wailed. “There are going to be even more in the halls!”

“What else do you want to try? Begging for mercy?” Calvin scolded the Emolga.

Unfortunately, within seconds it became clear that begging for mercy might be our only option. There were just too many of them, a line that might be engraved on all our tombstones. (As in: HERE LIES SPENCER TELLER - THERE WERE TOO MANY OF THEM.)

But the monsters did not charge at us right away. Instead they slowly circled us, baring their fangs and licking their lips as though picturing how we would taste after roasting over an open fire, preferably fully alive and conscious.

“Please,” Enfield announced. “Please don’t kill us.”

That’s a pretty reasonable demand most of the time, but it’s not going to cut it when you’re faced with a Larvitar that’s about three times its normal height (and with thrice the number of eyes to boot). Enfield might as well have been talking to a brick wall; a brick wall, moreover, that was about to come crashing down on him.

“Spare us” Calvin begged, which is how I knew that he saw the situation as hopeless. If my fellow Litleo had harbored any fantasies of there being a better play, he would have used it.

Instead here we were, a rescue team from Whitehall. A sorry excuse for a rescue team at that. What team worth their salt added themselves to the rescue on their very first formal job?

There was an old story I’d heard about the Galarian Colosseum. Gladiators had been sent there to fight exotic, ferocious creatures like Pyroar. Those who were injured by the lions would then go before a judge, who would either raise their thumb (sparing the gladiator) or give them a thumbs-down (upon which the gladiator would be devoured by the Pokémon.)

The situation now was oddly similar to that. After it was clear we’d lose the fight, we stood before the judge (whoever the judge was here), who had the power to end our lives just like that. Only one difference existed: In this case, the lions were the ones being sacrificed.

And I couldn’t bring myself to roar with pride. How could I when I was about to lose my pride; worse, to lose my life?

We were well and truly cornered, and for a moment I glanced up at the atrium’s ceiling. Not long ago I’d mocked Arceus by asserting that I’d defy His will by surviving. Now I guess He was mocking me, considering how many times I’d almost died since then.

Just when I thought we were about to be cut down by the crowd of monsters, I heard what sounded like a fiery breath far more powerful than my own. It was also far smellier than my own; the fresh scent of rotten eggs filled the air within seconds.

My eyes now watered, and I would only be able to hold one ear if the sirens resumed; I was holding my nose with one paw. I could hardly think of a more undignified end if it came to that.

And then the crowd around us dispersed. At first, I barely thought this possible; after coming so close to getting what they wanted (our deaths), why would they suddenly walk away from their goal?

But it soon became clear that the monsters weren’t leaving because they wanted to. Rather, the stinky fire breath had been meant to send a signal; namely Get out. I want to deal with these intruders myself.

Slowly but surely, my teammates and I found ourselves alone in the atrium save for a Drampa, who landed right in front of us.

“What’s wrong?” the Drampa asked.

I snorted, hardly able to do so without inhaling another whiff of the fire. “What isn’t wrong?”

“Well, I’ll phrase it another way” the Dragon-type clarified. “Litleo, why do you look so uncomfortable when I’ve just saved you?”

“Don’t breathe fire unless you absolutely have to” I stated, wheezing. “Especially indoors. It traps the air in here - very little smells worse than your breath, trust me.”

Calvin nudged me. Be nice, he seemed to say.

The Drampa huffed a bit through his nostrils. “Is that any way to treat the ‘mon who just saved you? If not for me, you would’ve been monster food before long!”

“But you let them attack us,” I said. “Didn’t you?”

The Dragon-type frowned. “Did I? I don’t remember that.”

Oh, great. Grappa’s lost his marbles. Is he going to forget that he ordered the monsters to kill us? Or did he not order that in the first place? This is just so confusing - maybe I’m the one losing my marbles.

We three members of Team Earthlink glanced at one another. I thought I heard someone humming our theme song during this time - maybe that was Enfield. But then…

“Oh, yes!” the Drampa announced, his wizened eyes lighting up. “That wasn’t me. But I know why the monsters went after you. That was by design, though not by my design.”

Calvin, who’d been so quick to scold me for being antisocial not a minute before, now glared at the Drampa. “What does that even mean?”

The Dragon-type sighed, which released a small amount of the stench. Of course, a small amount of the rotten egg smell is still pretty nasty.

“I think you should come with me,” the Drampa said. “I’ll explain more on the way out.”

(Insert a horizontal line here)

The metallic doors in the atrium had closed again for some reason, but this was barely a problem from the Drampa. “I know the code,” he insisted. “Leave me alone while I input it.”

After two unsuccessful attempts to type in the passcode, the Drampa sighed in evident frustration. “Drat!”

“Did you forget the code?” I asked. If you did, we’re totally boned. We’re just going to become bones in here, maybe sooner rather than later.

The Drampa shook his head. “I most certainly did not. It’s my damn digits - they’re so darn big! It’s really hard to type with these, especially since back in my day we used a typewriter…”.

“Why would a typewriter be easier?” I enquired, glancing worriedly over at Calvin.

“It’s just what I’m used to!” the Dragon-type bellowed. Luckily, the code was inputted correctly on the next attempt, so we were able to exit the atrium that had given us so much trouble.

“So this manor has become a mystery dungeon?” I asked eventually.

The Drampa nodded. “I suppose two or more of Earth’s ley lines - probably several - intersected beneath Mount Thunderhead.”

“Several means seven, not three or four” I muttered.

The other three glared at me, but I didn’t care. Gramps evidently didn’t care for too long either, because he snorted with mild laughter within seconds.

“Regardless of your definition of several, the more ley lines converge in a particular spot, the more stories the mystery dungeon will possess. This particular one has seven floors, and we’re on 2F right now.”

“Okay,” Calvin stated. “That’s all well and good, but where is Kaz? We came here to save him.”

The Drampa frowned. “Kaz? What’s that? The largest landlocked province in the world?”

“Don’t be cute with me,” my fellow Litleo snapped. “Don’t be funny with me now. If Kaz escaped on his own, or if he wasn’t even here to begin with, or if you’ve finished him off, I want to know that. I want you to look me in the eye and admit that our quest up here was pointless.”

“But who is this Kaz you speak of?”

I gave the Drampa the grandmother of all glares. “Kaz is a Lucario from the village of Whitehall. He started climbing Mount Thunderhead last week and vanished. As far as we know, he’s probably in this manor.”

The Dragon-type snorted. “Why would any ‘mon besides me travel here? I mean, the Syndicate would be foolish enough to, but this Kaz certainly wouldn’t be. Don’t they know this place has more radiation than a million X-ray machines?”

A pit formed in my stomach. The Drampa’s statement served as more evidence, as if it were needed, that this place was tainted, and that we’d all put ourselves at great risk to save Kaz.

“What Syndicate do you speak of?” Enfield enquired weakly.

The Drampa gave Enfield a glance that sent the following message: I’m sorry. Precisely what Gramps was sorry for (besides losing his memory) eluded me. Then the Dragon-type cleared his throat and answered thusly:

“Syndicate 23, youngster. Does that name ring a bell?”

That name meant nothing to me, but Enfield’s face turned paler than the snow outside the manor’s walls. The Emolga leaned over as though unable to decide whether to vomit or faint.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Drampa replied. “But not to worry! They’re long gone from here.”

“I do not know what this twenty-third Syndicate is,” I muttered. “Who are they, and why does the mere mention of them seem to worry Enfield?”

“We can ask him again later,” Calvin whispered in my ear. “Right now we have to find Kaz, and Gramps may be the only one who knows how to do so.”

Well, the Drampa’s behavior didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He scratched his chin as he turned us down yet another corridor, which led to a grand wooden door with a giant silver fork, spoon, and knife emblazoned on it.

“That’s the kitchen,” the Drampa stated. “That’s where I would have put someone, wouldn’t I have?”

The three of us exchanged odd glances. Needless to say, it was less than comforting to hear this demented old Pokémon engage in a monologue about where he’d be keeping a hostage. Especially when he didn’t seem to remember capturing that other Pokémon in the first place.

“No, I didn’t put him there. I must’ve just had a nightmare about doing so.”

Seriously, you can’t write this shit. What fanfic version of our adventures could get away with saying that we’re in a radioactive mansion with a Drampa who doesn’t know up from down while looking for someone he captured?

“I used a sleep spell against the Lucario,” the Drampa said softly. “Yes, that’s right. And then I put him in the kitchen. Maybe I was sleepwalking - they say that can happen in old age.”

“I don’t understand, though,” I blurted out. “ Why did you capture Kaz? And why would he be in the kitchen?”

“Well, he’ll have food there, won't he? At least, I’d thought he’d be able to have food, since the selection rotates every few hours. But there’s something about the food here that’s different.”

“Is it radioactive?” Calvin enquired in an accusatory tone.

“Not exactly,” the Drampa replied. “Well, the radiation might be causing its behavior, but eating the food won’t give you cancer if that’s what you’re asking.”

The Dragon-type paused, then took a deep breath. “Of course, that’s partly because you can’t eat the food.”

“Then why did you lock him in the kitchen?” I bellowed. I wanted to lash out at this Drampa to punish him for what he’d done to Kaz, and I was only able to restrain myself by remembering that Gramps was our ticket to saving Kaz. The internal duel was agony.

“Hear me out, all right?” the Drampa implored me.

“No, you’re not going to hear me out,” I responded in a tone I’d rarely ever heard myself use. “You’re going to tell us how to release Kaz from the kitchen. What’s he doing anyway? Baking some radioactive cookies or whatnot?”

“Spence, be nice,” Calvin said.

“I’m not going to be nice, because he’s trapped the one we need to save” I muttered. Again, it was all I could do not to yell.

Enfield appeared to have recovered from his initial shock at the name Syndicate 23.

“So,” he began, “Kaz can’t eat the food in the kitchen. Why is that?”

“That is because,” the Dragon-type responded, “the food is enchanted to vanish as soon as anyone comes within striking distance of eating it. It will always be right there, but no matter how hungry you are or how delicious it looks, you will not be able to consume the food item.”

That sounds like a character from some mythology. Their name eludes me, though.

“So do you have the key?” I asked the Drampa. “Or do you need us to find it for you?”

“It’s in the closet down the hall” the Drampa replied. “And there won’t be any monsters there.”

I glared at our “host”, one question entering my mind and pushing out all others. The only problem was that I’d have no way of knowing if the answer I got was true.

But that wouldn’t stop me from posing the question.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” I enquired. “What if this is another trap?”

The Drampa chuckled, but this laughter came with an ominous undertone in a way I just can’t explain. Surprisingly, the next thing he said made sense.

“If I wanted any of you dead,” the Dragon-type replied, “I could have just refused to call off the monsters back in the atrium. I saved your lives back there, and I technically didn’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, true” I muttered, because he had a point.

Enfield, meanwhile, had flown about ten meters down the corridor to a nearby closet. After a few moments rummaging through said closet, the Emolga came out with a ring of keys.

That’s nice. At least we won’t have to go on a fetch quest like this is some shitty video game.

Enfield handed the key ring to the Drampa, who scratched his chin as he placed the first key into the lock on the kitchen door.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Let’s see…maybe it’s the next one?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“How could you fucking forget?” I asked exasperatedly. “The keys are all different colors!”

“Well, young ‘mon, my brain is like a sieve. I remember important, complex ideas like the history of Syndicate 23 and their connections to this mystery dungeon. But I always forget the small things, like to take my medicine or to recall which key opens which door in the manor.”

I know a lot of people like that.

“Besides, the manor’s layout shuffles around each day, but I always find my way back here somehow. Anyway, there’s only one key left.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” I enquired, trying not to snap but probably failing miserably.

“It will,” the Drampa asserted. And sure enough, it did. The kitchen door swung open inward, revealing a room with boarded windows and numerous stoves and counters - in other words, the most elaborate kitchen I’d ever seen.

We entered the kitchen, which was devoid of any living inhabitants save for a painfully thin Lucario whose beige fur seemed leached somehow. It was almost as though his blood had been drained out and replaced with wind. The Lucario showed no signs of wakefulness, though his chest was rising and falling.

“He’s alive,” the Drampa stated, very much unnecessarily.

“Barely” I muttered, feeling heat return to my face and chest. (Now that we didn’t need the Drampa anymore to find Kaz, I felt no need to appease Gramps. Ditching him right now might be despicable, but would it be any less despicable once we owed him more?)

But then, the cooler side of my brain prevailed. We might still need his help to get out except for the Escape Orbs.

Calvin nudged the Lucario’s aura-sensing organ. Kaz’s eyelids fluttered slightly, but then remained shut.

“Dude, wake up” my fellow Litleo said. “We saved your sorry ass.”

“Ugh…” Kaz moaned.

“My mom will set you right,” Calvin asserted. “We’ll get you home.”

“Cal…?”

“Don’t call me Cal. I know you’re barely awake right now, but that doesn’t give you the right to nickname me.”

“Give him a break, Calvin,” the Drampa instructed my fellow Litleo. “Maybe he’s not strong enough to say the name.”

“Then he needs to eat,” I said. “Let me give him a bar from my bag. We don’t need them anymore.”

“Sure. Kaz, you must be hungry. Take a bite of this energy bar”. That was Calvin speaking, and he held out the bar for the Lucario to consume.

It’s no secret that chocolate is the number one food a Lucario loves. Even if they’re struggling to stay awake, #448 will never turn it down. (I’d been taught that in Pokémon Biology class, and it was one of the few snippets that stuck with me, per usual).

Well, Kaz was already dead asleep. He didn’t seem to smell the crunchy kryptonite right beneath his nose. And that’s how we knew his condition was serious.

“We need to get Kaz back to Whitehall” Calvin announced. “We’ve got Escape Orbs - we just have to hold onto his wrist or something when we crush it.”

“That would be helpful,” the Drampa muttered, “if you had a way to transport him back to the village. As far as I’m concerned, none of you have the Teleport ability…”.

Dammit. We didn’t give that much thought, did we?

“...but that’s not a problem, because I can fly you back! You’ve all got strong grips and a head for heights, don’t you?”

“You can really do that?” Enfield exclaimed in awe. “Gramps, you must be so strong!”

“Well, appearances are deceiving. I’ve got the strength - do you all have the strength to hang on?”

We all looked at each other. Right away, my limbs felt like jelly at the thought of being so high up and having to cling to a flapping Drampa wing for dear life. Hell, having my paws off the ground to begin with was intimidating enough.

“Not a problem. I can fix up some slings for all of you. You won’t have to hold on at all - just take in the view.”

Still, my legs shook at the prospect. On some level, I knew that there were people who enjoyed thrilling activities, but unless skiing counted, I wasn’t in that group. But I was about to experience the most thrilling ride of my life.

“I can conjure some things from thin air, you know,” the Drampa said eventually, narrowing his eyes as though concentrating deeply. “These include the slings I’ll use to carry you.”

“Wait a minute,” I muttered. “If you could create ropes out of thin air, then why not food for Kaz that wouldn’t vanish?” Something’s just not quite right here.

The Drampa sighed. “It doesn’t work that way,” he replied. “Food is one of the exceptions to the laws of elemental transfiguration. Not a single ‘mon can create food out of thin air unless you already have some. Besides, who knows what other enchantments this place has.

“Now give me some peace and quiet so I can focus on the task at hand.”

Within seconds, we were all ensnared in a series of ropes and straps that tugged against my fur. I could barely believe it.

“Uh…thanks” Enfield stated. “But you know that I’ve got the power of flight.”

“Someone as light as you are,” the Drampa told the Emolga, “is going to fall from the sky in the wind conditions we’re about to experience. Indeed, if you all could tie your scarves around your chins, that’ll work wonders for keeping you warm.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “Hard to move in these things.”

“Right. I’ll do it for you.”

The four of us were soon strapped to what looked like a massive leash, the sort that you’d use to walk multiple dogs at once. However, this promised to be a lot more exciting than a simple walk in the park.

And then the manor disappeared all around us.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

My stomach churned as the world spun, and it was all I could do not to throw up my most recent meal (not that there was much in my stomach anyway). The straps dug into my fur, and I was convinced it’d bleed before long.

But soon we were back in the cold, clean air of Mount Thunderhead, and I felt much better.

“Okay, here we are,” the Drampa stated. “My name’s Kemp, by the way. It’s nice to meet you all.”

My stomach dropped again, and my legs were too weak to support my body. I crumpled to the ground, which was enough to make Enfield keel over as well.

“Nice to meet you, Kemp,” Calvin replied, rolling his eyes at us as though apologizing for our behavior.

“So I’m going to carry you all back to Whitehall Village,” Kemp promised. “That is where you’re from, right? I think you might have told me that.”

“We did,” my fellow Litleo responded. “Thanks for remembering - I’ve heard people call such memories mind files.”

“You are correct,” the Drampa said. “Is there anything any of you need to do before your flight?”

My stomach rumbled as I stood back up. It was hard to determine whether it was due to hunger or just my nerves. “Maybe I could eat a bar or something?” I suggested.

Kemp shook his head. “It’s usually better not to eat before something like this. You don’t want to lose your lunch in the air, especially with the wind in your face.”

I was seized by a comical image of me flying through the sky with vomit all over my face, my teammates screaming in horror and Kaz unable to respond due to hanging limply in his sling. I chuckled nervously.

“In that case,” I mumbled, “I think I’m good.”

The Drampa smiled. “Now, I’m strong, but I’m not as strong as I used to be. I’ll need you all to run like a plane on a runway for this to work.”

I saw that the snowy ledge on which we stood ended not far in the distance. After that, as far as I could tell, there were only cliffs.

“Sprint hard and go for it!” Kemp ordered.

I stumbled slightly. “Now?”

“Yes, right now!”

Calvin, Enfield, and I began running awkwardly through the snow. Our limbs were still somewhat free, but it still wasn’t easy to move as fast as Kemp seemed to want us to. (Kaz’s dead weight didn’t help; even if he’d lost a lot in the manor, we still had to drag him).

“Faster! Faster!”

I’m going as fast as I can!

Nonetheless I pushed myself harder, breathing like someone suffering an asthma attack in the thin air. It didn’t help that my heart rate was at the level of “100-meter dash”.

The cliff was fast approaching - no, we were approaching it. My instinct was to slow down, but Kemp held our leash in his arms, and he could run.

Soon we ran right off the edge, and sure enough, it was just a cliff. I screamed bloody murder as we hurtled toward the next ledge from a terminal height…

…and then we stopped falling.

Instead, Kemp had spread his wings and caught us before we’d hit the ground. The four of us were knocked together like a series of wind chimes, an event that somehow didn’t shake Kaz awake. But the momentary discomfort was just that - momentary - as I realized…

“We’re flying!”

Kemp chuckled. “Yes, you are!” he exclaimed, spreading his wings more widely so that we descended a little closer to the ground.

It was hard to talk due to the wind in my face, but I managed to say this: “There’s some ride at an amusement park near Pastoria City. It swings you back and forth in this position.”

“Did you ever ride it?” Enfield asked.

“Fuck no!”

“I’d rather you didn’t use such language in my company” Kemp chastised us. “You do realize that you are at my mercy. Technically, if I got annoyed by your dirty mouths, I could drop you four right now and you’d have no recourse.”

Dirty mouth? You’re one to talk, buddy.

Fear crept in again, but only briefly, awed as I was at the forests hundreds of feet below. I felt about ninety-eight percent sure that Kemp was joking about dropping us. Okay, maybe more like ninety- six percent. Still, why would the Drampa go through all that trouble helping us escape from Thunderhead, only to later kill us like that?

“This is pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Calvin asked breathlessly.

In response, I could only nod, strong as the wind was. The sensation of flying may have made me warm and fuzzy inside, but my face still stung from the winter’s cold.

“You know, when we started Team Earthlink,” my fellow Litleo stated, panting from the sheer amount of wind howling at us, “this is what I dreamed of. Having adventures just like this. And now that I’ve experienced it once, this is what I want to achieve every single time.”

Kemp snorted. “Don’t count on it.”

We seemed to be covering miles in minutes. It had taken about two days to reach the manor atop Mount Thunderhead, but from this high up, the distance looked almost trivial. Without getting too metaphorical, I’ll just say: It was awesome.

After about ten minutes in the air (at least, by my estimate - who the hell knew how much time had passed?), my curiosity got the better of me. I’m like that sometimes. And I asked Kemp the following question:

“What did you say about the people who had the manor previously?”

Kemp sighed. “These are some dangerous waters, kid. Or rather, skies. But I won’t drop you - curiosity makes the world go around.”

“Thanks” I mumbled. “But what did you say the group was called?”

“Syndicate 23” Kemp muttered. “And they’re no good.”

“I mean, with a name like Syndicate, why would we expect them to be good?”

Chancing a quick glance to my left, I saw that Enfield, who’d previously had his eyes wide open, had now shut them. He’d slumped down in his harness, the numerous straps keeping him aloft despite this.

“Syndicate 23 are a team of poachers” the Drampa sighed eventually. “They’re exclusively humans, of course - no Pokémon would ever join them. Why would they dare, when they’re opposed to everything we’ve ever stood for?”

“Poaching,” I said. “So that’s…illegal hunting, right?”

“Correct. The human governments of the world hand out permits like candy most of the time, so if you’ve managed to break the law by hunting, you’ve really managed to screw up. That’s quite an achievement.”

“Wait a second…” I started. “ Hunting permits? They give them out?”

“Yes, and they’re very heavy-handed with them. There are days when I think humans just want to keep us Pokémon all afraid. They want us to suffer, knowing that they have so much power over us.”

At that point, I knew that I didn’t dare mention to Kemp that I’d once been human. The snowbound forest far beneath us was stunning, but it would be significantly less so with a Litleo-sized splatter on that blank canvas.

“You see,” Kemp continued, “humans and Pokémon have always been at odds. I don’t see how that conflict ever ends peacefully, and I don’t think humans do either. How could it when our goals are so diametrically opposed to one another? They want to destroy the Earth…”.

I cannot tell you how hard it was for me to dangle in that harness and not say anything. Yes, Kemp probably wouldn’t drop us, but did I want to risk it? Not remotely.

“Or at least, they don’t mind destroying this planet to get what they want. They’ll do so only if absolutely necessary, they assure us. Well, I don’t think any destruction is necessary, wouldn’t you all agree?”

We all nodded. Well, all of us except Kaz, who remained blissfully asleep to my right.

“While all humans share some of the blame for the destruction of our only home, no single group bears more responsibility than Syndicate 23. They’re the ones who entered the manor atop Mount Thunderhead, hoping to establish it as a base of operations. Maybe they’d make it some fancy hunting lodge that their richie-rich buddies would pay a premium to stay at.

“Well, instead they found a radioactive mystery dungeon. Some of the Pokémon inside carried Escape Orbs, but they’d all been struck down by radiation sickness and were unable to resist that theft. Isn’t that a common theme here?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s simple. They took the Escape Orbs just like they took our land. Humans are not to be trusted. I suppose they can be forgiven for stealing the Escape Orbs - they were just trying to get out of there, and the dungeon’s inhabitants couldn’t exactly use them anyway. Stealing the land, however, is less excusable.

“Now, what you all need to remember about humans is that if you give them an inch, they will take a mile. When they first encroached upon our lands, we surrendered it in exchange for peace. But we’ve learned our lesson now; appeasement is like feeding a ravenous Machamp in the hopes that it’ll eat you last. That was a lesson some humans learned in the endless wars they fought with each other. It seemed they couldn’t agree on anything except how best to oppress us Pokémon.”

Needless to say, my mouth remained glued tightly shut. But Kemp wasn’t done yet.

“Stealing our land is bad enough, but we still get to keep some of our native habitat. Well, if Syndicate 23 and the other polluting humans get their way, that may no longer be the case. Already the summers are getting hotter, storms are getting more severe, and the scientists - both human and Pokémon - say that this fire season is going to be a doozy.”

As we shivered in the sky, it was hard for me to envision this frozen mountainside becoming an infernal hellscape. But just because something is hard to believe doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.

“But we can’t keep it this way forever,” Kemp asserted. “The Earth has given us so much - we must pay it back. I do not know what it will take to dethrone the human race, but whenever that happens, and I have faith it will, we will treat them far better than they have treated us.”

“That’s probably a pretty low bar, isn’t it?” Calvin asked, the first time he’d spoken in quite some time.

“Yes, it is a low bar. That makes it even more important that we meet it. If we cannot, can we truly say that we are not like them?”

On that uplifting note, the village of Whitehall came into view. Seeing the clearing from high above made me gasp at the town’s beauty, what with the falling snow adorning the buildings and making them look like gingerbread houses. Almost like Christmas had come again.

“We are now beginning our final descent into Whitehall,” Kemp began, “where the local time is…oh, who am I fooling? I don’t know what time it is! Sometime in the afternoon!”

Wait…it’s still the afternoon? We entered the mystery dungeon around noon, so…

No. I strongly doubted we could be so fortunate. It probably wasn’t the same day we’d entered the manor; rather, it was likely many days later. Time passed faster in mystery dungeons, after all.

“Brace for impact, youngsters!”

Kemp held out his wings in a “big ears” maneuver, and we dropped like stones. Okay, not quite like stones, but we sank pretty quickly through the air until we had a surprisingly soft landing in very deep snow.

“We’re right at the village hospital,” the Drampa stated. “I think Kaz probably needs it, just to be safe. And you three should get checked out as well.”

“Oh, right” I mumbled. “ Radiation. I almost forgot about that.”

“What about you, Gramps?” Enfield asked, finally looking upward again. “Are you going to get decontaminated or whatever as well?”

Kemp shook his head. “I’ve been in that manor for so long that I’m either immune to it, or I’m doomed. Either way, they can’t do anything for me. If they’re going to use that place in an unsustainable manner, I’ve got four words: Over my dead body.”

I decided not to point out that the Drampa’s body might well be dead pretty soon. Even I knew that this would be impossibly rude.

We bade Kemp goodbye after thanking him profusely, then dragged Kaz into the clinic. The place was distant from my idea of what a hospital should look like; while it was well furnished, the floor still consisted of wood rather than tile. As such, it might not be totally sanitary.

But it would have to do.

Luckily, the waiting room wasn’t crowded. There hadn’t been a mass-casualty event that would strain the clinic’s resources. And yet, I felt tempted to knock on wood (literally in this case, given the materials used to build the clinic).

“Hello?” a frantic-sounding female voice called out.

“Yes, we’re here!” Calvin shouted.

“Calvin Litleo, I’ll have you know that in the future, I prefer for the patient to ring the bell if possible. I’d rather find out that way then hear you barge into my hospital like a barbarian!”

“Ahem, sorry about that,” my fellow Litleo replied. “But this is an emergency.”

A Pyroar entered the waiting room. She wore a hat similar to Nurse Joy at the hospitals in human settlements, and her face carried more wrinkles than Frala’s. If I had to guess, she was maybe on the wrong side of middle age. Nonetheless, she possessed the energy to rival a far younger lioness, as evidenced by how quickly she rushed to Kaz’s side.

“This is Kaz Lucario!” the Pyroar nurse exclaimed with a gasp.

“Yes,” Calvin muttered. “We rescued him from the mystery dungeon.”

“A very good thing you did! I don’t know that he would have lasted another day in there, he looks to be in terrible shape!”

“Right,” I said. “So you’ll bring him in, watch over him for a while until he recovers?”

“Well, yes,” the nurse replied, producing a stethoscope to check the Lucario’s pulse. “But there’s more information I need from you three. You’re Team Earthlink, correct? You traveled to Mount Thunderhead on a quest?”

Enfield narrowed his eyes. “How would you know that?”

“Word gets around in a town as small as this one” the lioness told us. “Besides, we’re always given this information just in case returning adventurers require my care. Happens more often than you might think.”

I snorted. “I can believe it, considering that we just came from Mount Thunderhead.”

The name of the mountain had an immediate effect on the lioness. She leaned her head backward, her mostly monochrome mane sticking straight up. And her maw opened wider than a dental patient’s!

“Oh, no no no. Team Earthlink, where did you go?”

We three adventurers exchanged glances, not knowing how to answer that question. Truth be told, we’d already answered it - what did the nurse want us to say?

“Where did you go?” the nurse repeated, and for a moment I wondered if she’d lost her marbles just like Kemp Drampa.

“I already told you,” I said evenly. “We went to Mount Thunderhead. That’s where Kaz was.”

“Well, that makes treating Kaz a little more complicated,” the lioness replied. “Given that he’s still unconscious, I don’t want to risk showering him. I guess I’ll put him in our decontamination bath for a bit.”

I frowned. “Decontamination bath?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied. “It’s so that none of us get sick from the radiation. You know, these things can affect you years down the line. I’d love for you to be able to run around and explore dungeons when you’re my age; I don’t want you to be struck down by cancer when you’re in your thirties.”

Well, that’s a cheery thought.

“You three!” the lioness barked. “Go down the hallway, you’ll find the decontamination showers there! Make sure to scrub thoroughly, and then you should follow the path outside! Calvin - you know what I’m talking about!”

The lioness was pretty vague, but Calvin nodded to show that he understood.

“I’ll get Kaz decontaminated, then put him in one of the beds. I’ll also tell Pelipper to send for Hestia Pachirisu - she’ll be most relieved to know that her betrothed is alive.”

Without another word, Enfield and I followed Calvin down the corridor. There were a number of patient rooms on either side, all of them vacant save for the beds, medical equipment, and windows to the outside world. But I paid them no mind as we reached the showers.

None of us said a word as we scrubbed all the snow off of our bodies. Truth be told, there wasn’t much of it, but I could picture a thick layer of radioactive dirt on me, slowly eating away at my cells and threatening to kill me in a painful manner once it had taken over. But I wouldn’t let that happen.

“So that nurse,” I said, using the technique Calvin had shown me to dry off my fur, “what’s her name?”

“Leyla,” my fellow Litleo replied. “And she’s the owner of this hospital. Whenever my medical needs are more advanced than what my mother can heal with her spells, I head here. She’s the best nurse in town, or best doctor. What’s even the difference?”

“Whatever” I muttered. “Leyla Pyroar - she mentioned that there’s a path outside. Where does it go?”

Calvin winked at me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

After an exhausting trek up Mount Thunderhead and through the manor, a death-defying battle against an array of radioactive monsters, and an exhilarating flight down to the village, you might have expected my adrenaline to wear off. You’d be right. I breathed heavily with each step along the stone path (though even the stones were covered with a thick film of snow).

“How much further?” I asked, more than once.

Calvin glared at me. “The next time you ask, the answer’s forever.”

Uh…okay?

I supposed the scenery was pleasant, beautiful even. On either side of the trail, pine trees with reddish trunks rose at least several (seven) stories. The snow thinned out the further we walked, and (though this might have been my imagination), the air seemed to thaw over time.

Before long I was outright sweating, and all I wanted to do was to lie down and take a nap. (And that’s coming from somebody who hates napping in the middle of the day). The trek was taking its toll.

“It’s so hot!” I exclaimed eventually.

Enfield turned to me, giving off a sly grin. “I should hope so” were his only words.

It soon became impossible to ignore: Steam was filling the air, and I could no longer see my breath both because of the steam itself and the rising temperatures. We’d arrived at a short wooden gate guarded by a pair of Chimchar.

“Uh…” I began.

One of the Chimchar frowned. “What were you going to ask us?”

“How can you two survive in such a cold climate?” I blurted out. “Isn’t Chimchar a Fire-type species?”

One of the monkeys snorted, whereas the other grimaced. “That is not important” the grimacing one announced. “What matters is that you need special permission to enter.”

“Like a security clearance?” I enquired. “Where would we get that?”

Calvin glared at me. Let me do the talking.

“Guys, it’s okay” my fellow Litleo stated, facing the pair of Chimchar. “I’m Calvin Litleo - you know me. And this is my new team; we are Team Earthlink, having just returned from a successful rescue mission on Mount Thunderhead. Please allow us to bathe today.”

“Well, I know you’re Calvin Litleo,” the grimacing Chimchar muttered. “But I don’t know your two comrades. Who are you?”

“I’m Enfield Emolga, and this is Spencer Litleo.” (I don’t think I need to tell you who said that.)

“Okay. And you are here on…is it the doctor’s orders?”

Calvin nodded. “These orders came from Nurse Leyla herself.”

“Awesome” the other Chimchar responded. “You may enter; just make sure you follow proper bathing etiquette. There are showers before you enter - “.

“We’ve already showered,” I stated.

Calvin gave me another dirty look. Given that we were recently in a radioactive mystery dungeon, it’s probably better not to argue with them.

We were permitted to walk through the gate and enter the hot springs. The complex consisted of a stone patio off which the snow had been scraped, surrounded by a few small evergreen trees and with an excellent view of a river’s valley on one side.

“They call this place the Gates of Hell,” Calvin muttered, giving me a smirk. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t get it” I replied with a snort. “This looks a lot more like heaven to me.”

“Well, in the old myths, these springs were portals to the Underworld” Calvin stated. “These baths were a taste of temptation, since you can get overheated if you’re not careful. Just because something is good doesn’t mean more is better.”

“Hard to argue with that” Enfield muttered. “Let’s just get in one of the tubs.”

“First, shower,” Calvin asserted.

Once we’d thoroughly cleansed ourselves of just about anything that could have worked its way into our fur during our adventures, Enfield led the way toward the pool closest to the vista. From this vantage point, we could see the rushing river below, as well as what looked like a small cabin alongside it.

“That’s a shrine to the mountain gods” Calvin explained once I’d asked what purpose the building served.

“I thought nobody worshiped the mountain gods anymore?” I enquired. “I thought it was just Arceus, and even that might be a myth. Aren’t these polytheistic deities definitely just that? Myths?”

Calvin gasped, and I understood then that I’d just said something incredibly offensive. (Those of a religious persuasion might even have called it blasphemy, though Pastoria City didn’t have blasphemy laws as far as I was aware.)

“Don’t give me that,” my fellow Litleo replied testily. “Don’t even give me that. Come on, Spence - be better.”

“But isn’t that the point of a myth?” I enquired. “That nobody believes in it anymore? It’s just an old story parents read to their children at bedtime, like those about Santa Claus.”

I’d been handed a shovel, and now I was digging deeper whether I meant to or not. Welcome to my world.

“Of course it is a myth, Spencer, but why should that mean that it is not real?” Enfield replied in a more measured manner. “You keep saying that word; I do not think it means what you say it means.”

“What Enfield means,” Calvin told me, this time having cooled down amidst the hot springs, “is that you shouldn’t dismiss something as definitely false just because it sounds ridiculous. As long as you’re in Pokémon territory, you should abide by our conventions.”

“That’s right” Enfield stated. “Now, let’s get in the pool before the snow monkeys steal our spot.”

“Snow monkeys?”

“They’re the groups of Aipom that tend to congregate around the hot springs on cold days,” Calvin replied. “Even when it’s not cold, they still love their baths. Now, get in the tub.”

I slowly lowered my front leg in. Right away, I yelped.

“Too hot for you, is it?” Calvin asked, to which I nodded.

“Is there a way to enter gradually ?”

“I’m afraid there isn't,” Enfield muttered. “Or rather, it’s better not to. Just get the whole thing over with - leap right in, and you’ll get used to it so much faster.”

“But I’ll be boiled alive if I do!”

“No, you won’t. Just watch me” Calvin promised.

The Litleo leaped into the pool, being submerged ever so briefly before reaching the surface. Calvin grimaced for an instant, but then sighed. “See? It’s just like a nice hot bath!”

“That’s because it is a nice, hot bath,” Enfield said, rolling his eyes. But the Emolga followed suit, though he stepped into the pool in a more dignified manner than Calvin’s belly-flop.

Now it was my turn. I lowered myself into the hot spring, which at first hurt like hell. Nevertheless, I persisted, and after about ten seconds it was indeed just like a Jacuzzi. I smiled.

“Well then,” Calvin announced, “let’s toast to a job well done!”

“We don’t have any drinks, though,” I pointed out. Not that alcohol and hot springs are good things to mix together.

“That doesn’t matter; it’s a figure of speech. You could always eat some snow, that is - the air’s pretty clean around here.”

For a minute or two, none of us said any other words, content as we were to bathe in the natural hot tub and watch the snow fall all around us. Before I knew it, my eyelids were growing heavy, and I soon floated on my back and faced the sky.

It wasn’t much longer before I smiled and closed my eyes. My last thought was this:

If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.