It was once again the early hours of the morning. As usual, Aven rose very early from his bed, his routine no different from the countless mornings before. Without delay, he began to prepare and carefully arrange his outfit for the day's undertaking.
Entering the Black Forest was no different from embarking on a true wilderness expedition. It was a venture into the unknown, and as such, every essential item for survival in the wild had to be brought along without exception. Medicine, healing potions, and food for his Pokémon were among the absolute necessities that could not be forgotten.
On the sturdy wooden table before him, Aven methodically packed these supplies into his sturdy travel backpack, placing them neatly one after another with practiced familiarity. Once everything was secured, he reached over and opened a large wooden chest. Inside, perfectly arranged in orderly rows, were more than ten Poké Balls, each glinting faintly under the morning light.
After a moment of inspection, Aven closed the chest and turned toward his wardrobe. From within, he pulled out a brand-new, never-used trainer's belt. Bringing it to the table, he began to slot each Poké Ball into the belt's fitted clasps, one at a time, until the line of spheres rested snugly against the belt.
This particular belt was no ordinary accessory. In his past life, it had been considered a trainer's essential piece of equipment. A proper trainer's belt allowed its wearer to swiftly retrieve any specific Poké Ball at a moment's notice, instantly releasing the chosen partner into battle. It was a tool designed for efficiency in the heat of combat, where a single second could determine victory or defeat.
Once all of the Poké Balls had been fixed securely in place, Aven fastened the belt around his waist. Over it, he donned a long, white coat that draped neatly across his figure, concealing the belt and the Poké Balls from view. His preparations complete, his appearance outwardly calm and unremarkable, he quietly muttered:
"Let's go—Petilil, Froslass, Ralts, Nidorino, Nidorina."
With gentle care, Aven scooped up Petilil into his arms. Froslass and Ralts floated lightly at his side, drifting as if weightless, while Nidorino and Nidorina followed closely behind him, their loyal footsteps never straying from his path. Together, they began to head toward the dark stretch of woodland that bordered the Black Coast.
At this very moment within the Black Coast Forest, everything appeared orderly and alive with activity. Lumberjacks were hard at work, their axes swinging in steady rhythm as they felled trees. Patrolmen made their rounds with discipline, carefully watching over the safety of the territory.
"Mado," Aven called out, summoning one of his men. "The target this time—it's supposed to be a small group of Skuntank, isn't it?"
Back at the farm, Aven had already learned that today's task involved dealing with these particular Pokémon. That was precisely why he had hurried over at first light.
"Yes, Lord Aven," Mado confirmed respectfully.
"This group of Skuntank has a few Stunky cubs among them, which makes them unusually sensitive and difficult to handle. We've already attempted to encourage them to move away, but the results were poor. Once Skuntank have young, their territorial instincts become extremely strong. They will almost never abandon their territory so easily."
As Mado explained, he paused, as though weighing his words. Of course, if they truly wished to, forceful relocation was well within their ability. Yet Aven had given strict orders before: no methods of brute-force expulsion were to be used.
"Stunky cubs, is it?" Aven murmured thoughtfully.
"I understand. Leave this matter to me."
He nodded once, then spread open a map and began making his way deeper into the Black Coast Forest. As was their habit, Nidorino and Nidorina took the lead, parting the path before him with vigilant care.
"Ralts, Ralts~"
Perched comfortably on his shoulder, Ralts gave a soft call.
The red horn atop its head quivered faintly. It could vaguely sense a trace of malicious intent drifting within the air.
Ralts, feigning calm, averted its gaze and, through its innate telepathy, quietly sent a warning to Aven. This time, something was different. Something was not as it had always been.
"So, it seems the time has come," Aven whispered under his breath, nodding ever so slightly.
By his judgment, the enemy would inevitably choose this moment to strike. After all, if they delayed for too long, the plan would face too many unpredictable variables. A prolonged delay would only increase the risk of failure.
And now, with Aven venturing alone into the Black Forest to handle a Skuntank tribe, the stage was set for the perfect assassination attempt.
"Lil, lil~"
The three leaves atop Petilil's head trembled lightly.
Its sensory field had already expanded outward, spreading like ripples across the forest, detecting every flicker of nearby life.
"Lass, lass~"
Froslass, at that moment, had slipped into an invisible state, faintly releasing a chilling aura to remind Aven of its presence, ready to act at any instant.
As Aven stepped deeper into the shadowed forest, the surrounding grass stirred ever so slightly. A clump of greenery shifted, creeping slowly in a direction it did not naturally grow.
"Ralts~"
Not long after they had begun moving forward, Petilil and Ralts exchanged a meaningful glance.
Ralts then closed its eyes, unleashing a wave of invisible psychic energy. Within its mind's perception, sinister silhouettes appeared—Pokémon moving stealthily, their emotions steeped in malice.
To the ordinary eye, these Pokémon seemed to be wandering naturally through the forest. Yet the aura they emitted was fundamentally different from that of any Pokémon. The majority of them were Mightyena.
Mightyena—favored companions of magical beast hunters. With their sharp senses of smell and tracking instincts, they were indispensable for pursuit and reconnaissance. Few Pokémon could ever draw near without being detected.
It was clear now. Those assassins were already hidden within the Black Forest, waiting patiently to launch their strike.
"We wait," Aven whispered softly to the Pokémon at his side. "It's best to lure every last one of them out."
At the same time, his hand slipped into his pocket. Though the Poké Balls at his belt were already ready, he had also tucked two more inside his coat pocket. This was a precaution—so that in a moment of true emergency, he could release a Pokémon instantly without even reaching for his belt.
…
Meanwhile, along the Black Coast, the assassins moved like shadows, advancing silently into the forest's depths.
For this assassination, the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild had made extensive preparations. Rather than risk exposure by passing through the southeastern lands, they had chosen instead to infiltrate from the coast itself.
Leading their tamed magical beasts, they pressed onward swiftly but carefully, ensuring that every step left no trace. To avoid discovery, they ruthlessly slaughtered every wild magical beast they encountered along the way.
Without sound or disturbance, the assassins soon reached the inner reaches of the Black Forest, where they quietly concealed themselves within ambush points that had been prepared beforehand.
The location chosen was none other than a Skuntank tribe's territory—conveniently blocking the path of Fruitvale Village's expansion. According to all previous patterns, the lord of the territory, Aven himself, would certainly arrive in person to handle the relocation.
Elsewhere in the forest, other assassin squads followed their predetermined routes, slipping past the knights on patrol and steadily converging on their ambush zones.
Once near their designated positions, they did not huddle together, but instead spread out strategically in all directions.
From their intelligence, they knew of a mysterious magical beast called Ralts that possessed the ability to teleport through space. To deal with such an ability, they had to prepare thoroughly.
Teleportation was powerful, yes, but it consumed an enormous amount of energy and was limited both in distance and frequency. With a sufficiently well-laid net, they could intercept their target even if it attempted escape.
Thus, though their numbers within this forest were not infinite, every assassin brought with them a large number of magical beasts. Together, they had more than enough force to completely lock down the forest.
At their head was Shaco, the assassin leader. Over the years, he had executed countless assassinations, eradicating many enemies of the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild.
For this mission, the guild had spared no expense. Not only was Shaco dispatched, but also the four elite Shadow Guards of the guild—an unmistakable display that this was an all-or-nothing strike.
Under such circumstances, Shaco was confident that even without assassination, even in open battle, they had more than enough strength to directly kill their target.
Yet assassins lived by a creed: never fight head-on if there was another way. For Shaco, there was nothing more exhilarating than silently reaping the life of an unsuspecting foe.
Crack… crack… crack!
As Shaco closed his eyes, slowing his breathing to merge seamlessly with the surrounding forest, the sound of twigs snapping reached his ears.
He lifted his gaze at once. Through the narrow gaps in the trees, the first thing he saw was a Nidorino and a Nidorina, followed soon after by the figure of a white-clad man trailing behind them.
The target had arrived! Shaco's eyes sharpened, but he made no move, no sound. The moment to strike had not yet come.
"Nido, Nido~"
As Nidorino and Nidorina neared the colony grounds, their vigilance was apparent. They lifted their noses, sniffing at the air, yet caught no unusual scent. Still wary, they nonetheless pressed forward.
From the shadows, Shaco's lips curved slightly. These were professional assassins—experts at concealment. Masking their scent was child's play. Even a Mightyena would fail to detect them from this distance.
Rustle, rustle, rustle!
Just as Aven drew closer to the Skuntank colony, a loud stir erupted.
Several Stunky suddenly bounded out from their territory, eyes wary as they stared at the man who had approached their home.
"Hello their Stunkies, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm," Aven said gently, raising his hands and stepping back a few paces.
Then, reaching into his backpack, he retrieved a few Oran Berries and tossed them toward the distant Stunky.
Rustle, rustle, rustle!
A Stunky sniffed curiously at the berries that rolled to a stop before them. In an instant, their eyes lit up.
For Poison-type Pokémon like Stunky, no toxin could truly threaten them. Because of this, they had very little wariness toward food. Anything edible was fair game—even poisonous herbs were considered delicacies in their eyes.
Crunch, crunch, crunch!
After only a moment's hesitation, one Stunky seized a berry and bit into it eagerly.
A delightful sweetness spread across its tongue, its eyes narrowing with delight as it chewed.
Soon, realizing how delicious these berries were, another Stunky grabbed one and dashed back into the colony to share the discovery, leaving two others behind to continue standing guard.
Watching them retreat, Aven knew he had successfully won their favor. He nodded to Nidorino, signaling it to set down the Pokémon food it carried. At the same time, he began to step back quickly.
Before long, a larger figure emerged from the forest—the unmistakable shape of a Skuntank.
The Skuntank approached cautiously, sniffed at the food on the ground, then lifted its gaze toward Aven.
"Skuntank," Aven said slowly, his voice calm. "I mean you no harm. I am the lord of the human territory outside this forest. Unfortunately, this stretch of land lies directly in the path of our expansion. I wish to speak with you. If possible, I hope your tribe could migrate eastward. There is abundant land there, perfectly suitable as a new home for you."
But at his words, the Skuntank's eyes sharpened with suspicion. Its body lowered, muscles tensing as it slid into a battle stance.
Just as Mado had warned—Skuntank valued their territory above all else. Words alone would never be enough to move them.
"It seems battle is the only way," Aven thought with helpless resignation.
Only by proving his strength could he earn the right to negotiate. Every Pokémon, no matter its kind, shared this respect for power.
"Nido!"
Nidorino, sensing the tension, lowered itself into a combat stance, ready to clash.
"Lil, lil~"
Petilil tugged lightly at Aven's sleeve, warning him.
Its senses had picked up on more and more presences surrounding them, slowly closing in to encircle the entire area.
"Ralts~"
Ralts, still perched on Aven's shoulder, dangled its little legs and remained utterly focused.
If danger struck, it would not hesitate—it would teleport Aven to safety at once. That assurance was why Aven's Pokémon followed him without hesitation into danger.
From afar, hidden in the shadows, Shaco narrowed his eyes at the impending clash in the clearing. The corners of his mouth lifted. Perfect. A confrontation here would only draw more assassins into place.
At this moment, their prey was already completely encircled. Even if they were discovered now, Shaco was confident. Their trap was set—there would be no escape.
After all, this time, they had even brought with them the beast the guild had painstakingly raised using vengeful souls…
(End of Chapter)