Chapter 309: A Refined Egoist
Following Amuyar, Basalt passed the identity verification and smoothly entered the city.
From the sky, the massive stone walls had looked ordinary, but up close, they were over ten meters high and six or seven meters thick. They were a magnificent sight.
"This is Roba City, the central hub of our Roba Tribe," Amuyar explained, introducing the city. As Basalt looked around, he truly felt like he had entered a foreign land.
At the same time, he noticed people constantly staring at him. Some even pointed at him without any reservation. Looking around, he realized he was the only one not wearing traditional Roba clothing. And although he had gotten several shades darker after three months in the desert, compared to the Roba people, he could still be called a "pale face."
He stuck out like a sore thumb.
"Amuyar, why did you bring an outsider into Roba City?"
Just then, three youths about Basalt's age swaggered over. The one in the lead was slightly paler-skinned and wearing metal-rimmed glasses, which looked completely out of place.
"Alim?" Amuyar recognized the person and frowned.
"Who are they?" Basalt raised an eyebrow. He was clearly not welcome.
Amuyar explained in a low voice, "Alim's oasis is very close to mine, so we know each other. He's the son of that small tribe's chief, but he was sent to your world to study when he was ten. After he came back, he's always questioning and looking down on our traditions. I don't like him."
The Roba Tribe was a tribal society. Each oasis was a small, relatively independent tribe with its own chief. However, all these chiefs had to obey the orders of the main Tribal Chief and the Council of Elders.
Alim looked Basalt over for a moment, then questioned Amuyar. "Amuyar, don't you know the Tribal Gathering is about to start? This isn't a normal time. According to the rules, outsiders are not allowed in."
Roba City was normally open to outsiders, but the Tribal Gathering was a special exception.
"Basalt is not an outsider. He is a warrior acknowledged by the Desert God," Amuyar said, shaking his head as he explained Basalt's identity.
"What? He's a warrior acknowledged by the Desert God?"
Hearing this, the questioning looks on the faces of the two youths behind Alim instantly vanished, replaced by respect and admiration. As simple tribal youths, they were devout followers of their traditions.
But Alim was clearly the exception.
He narrowed his eyes and said with disdain, "What 'warrior acknowledged by the Desert God'? That's just a baseless legend. It's the Sand Stream ability, just a Pokémon ability. There are plenty of people outside the desert who have Pokémon with Sand Stream, and they've never even been here. Does the Desert God acknowledge them too?"
"Alim, do not blaspheme against the Desert God!" A look of anger appeared on Amuyar's face.
It wasn't just Amuyar; the two youths behind Alim also looked displeased, but they were constrained by Alim's status and didn't dare to speak out. Alim's father was a chief, and a chief's power was not insignificant. They didn't dare to offend him.
"I'm not blaspheming. I'm just stating a fact." Alim stuck his neck out and said in a preachy, disappointed tone, "Amuyar, and you two... you've never stepped outside the desert. You don't have a full understanding of the real world. Our tribe is still too ignorant, too backward. Many of our rules are completely outdated..."
But in Alim's eyes, Basalt saw a trace of contempt.
This Alim, who had "been to the city," now looked down on his "country" kinsmen. He felt he was superior, and he looked at everyone with a condescending gaze, as if they were all beneath him.
Amuyar was fuming but couldn't refute him. It was true that in recent years, many Roba people had gone to study at universities, serve in the military, or do business. The information they sent back about the outside world confirmed what Alim was saying.
Alim turned to Basalt. "Hey, kid. Which family are you from? And where did you get your Hippopotas?"
A Pokémon with the Sand Stream ability was very rare in the Alliance. Therefore, Basalt's background was clearly not simple.
But Alim wasn't afraid. In Roba City, he had the home-field advantage. And once they left, he and Basalt would probably never see each other again. What was there to be afraid of?
"Hippopotas?" Basalt raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Sorry, I don't have a Hippopotas."
"Then that means it's already evolved into a Hippowdon? Looks like you're pretty strong."
Basalt shook his head again. "I don't have a Hippowdon either."
"Not Hippopotas or Hippowdon?"
Alim froze for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "In that case, is it a Gigalith from a foreign region? Bro, you actually have those kinds of connections?"
In an instant, Alim's attitude towards Basalt did a 180-degree turn. He even made a move to shake Basalt's hand, his form of address changing from "kid" to "bro." Unfortunately for him, Basalt couldn't be bothered with him.
Although Alim was a chief's son, his father was only at the Pro-level. And since Hippopotas with Sand Stream were rare in the Alliance, Alim didn't have one, much to his regret.
But as far as Alim knew, Gigalith were far less rare in foreign regions than Hippopotas were here. They could be found in many deserts, and their numbers were not small. If Basalt could help him get one, he could take a roundabout path to becoming a "warrior acknowledged by the Desert God" himself.
Although he spoke with disdain about the Desert God, Alim very much wanted that title. It would be beneficial for him when he inherited his father's position as chief.
Alim, whose name meant "scholar" in the Roba language, was, in reality, a refined egoist.
Right now, he wasn't a "warrior," so he questioned the status of one. But if one day he became a warrior, he would surely do everything in his power to reinforce the traditions of the Desert God and the Roba Tribe.
All his words and actions were based on self-interest.
"A Gigalith? Sorry, I don't have one of those either." This was Basalt's third time shaking his head.
"Not a Gigalith either?"
The fawning expression on Alim's face instantly froze. He took a few steps back, sized Basalt up carefully, and stammered, "Don't tell me... it's the Desert Tyrant... Tyranitar? No way. No way!"
A pseudo-legendary Tyranitar... once that Pokémon was fully evolved, it was practically an invincible existence at the Pro-level.
Basalt has a Tyranitar?
Although Alim himself found it incredible, the only Sand Stream Pokémon left, besides Hippowdon and Gigalith, was Tyranitar.
When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth!
Who is this big shot?
"Young Master Basalt!"
Alim restrained the urge to prostrate himself. He began to slap his own face, his voice full of tearful regret. "I was spouting nonsense just now. Please, I beg you, don'g hold it against me."
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