Lavender faded behind him like a dream.
The tower's shadow no longer clung to his skin, but it lingered beneath it—like smoke in cloth. Each step westward felt lighter, but not clean. Cael didn't want clean. He wasn't trying to be new. He only wanted to understand.
Nyx floated beside him, drifting silently above the dust trail, turning slowly like a ghostly moon. Vox stayed within his shadow, her presence faint but restful now, as if she slept.
The path between Lavender and Cerulean was half-forgotten—dense forest on one side, train lines rusting on the other. Trainers rarely took it. Most went through Saffron or took the bike path north.
Cael preferred quiet roads.
He stopped by a creek mid-morning. Water flowed fast and clear, too narrow for swimming, but enough to refill his canteen.
He knelt, watching it for a long moment.
Then: "She'll expect something straightforward. That's her rhythm."
Nyx bobbed once—agreement.
Cael reached into his pack and pulled out a worn League Trainer holopad. Oak had registered him automatically when he accepted Nyx. He hadn't used it for anything but maps—until now.
The screen glowed blue as he called up Misty Waterflower's profile.
Gym Leader, Cerulean City. Youngest of four sisters. Type: Water. Temper: fiery. Preferred tactics: speed over defense, type coverage over raw power.
Recent matches flicked past the screen—clips of her Starmie darting through the water field, knocking out three Pokémon in under a minute. She used Swift, Recover, and Confuse Ray frequently.
He paused on one battle. Her opponent had used an electric-type.
It should've been an easy win. But Misty baited the trainer into tunnel vision. She forced quick switches, overextended his Luxio, and drowned it mid-charge.
Clever.
Cael liked that.
But there was something else—her rhythm. She moved too quickly, too confidently. Like a swimmer trained for straight laps, not currents. She didn't handle ambiguity well.
He watched one clip again, slower.
When fog was introduced to the field, she hesitated. Her attacks became reactionary. Defensive. Restless.
"Good," Cael murmured. "She chases clarity."
Nyx spun in a lazy loop, a quiet hiss of amusement slipping through his mist.
Cael closed the holopad.
He didn't smile, but something in his shoulders eased.
He didn't care about gym badges. Not really. But the League watched them. Measured them. And someone else—she—was watching, too.
If they wanted a performance…
He'd give them a lesson.
He rose and began walking again, toward the distant glint of city lights on water.
Cerulean shimmered like a memory.
Sky-colored rooftops, canals in place of sidewalks, and bridges that curved like ribbons over slow-moving water. Tourists wandered the main district holding frozen drinks and snapping photos of the gym like it was a concert venue.
And in a way—it was.
Cael stood at the edge of the plaza, one boot tapping quietly against the cobblestone. Before him, the Cerulean Gym loomed—a sleek, glass-fronted structure glowing faintly with underwater lights. Music hummed through built-in speakers. Neon waves rolled across the outer windows, showing stylized outlines of Misty and her team in mid-action.
Inside, they didn't battle in silence.
They battled in spotlight.
He stepped through the main doors.
It was cooler inside. A blast of conditioned air hit his face, carrying the scent of chlorine and synthetic salt. Spotlights lined the ceiling above a large aquatic field—half submerged, half land-locked platforms. Misty's gym was a theater of movement. Every trainer's entrance was a scene.
He didn't flinch. Just walked forward.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. She looked about Cael's age, maybe older. She glanced at his badge case. Empty. Then back at his face.
"You here for a tour or a match?"
"Match."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "First badge?"
"Yes."
She gestured to a waiting bench. "You'll be up in ten. The leader likes open-floor challenges during exhibition week. Public viewing. Hope you don't mind an audience."
Cael sat.
Didn't respond.
Didn't need to.
From the side doors came two younger gym trainers—one with goggles around his neck, the other barefoot and holding a whistle. They stopped short when they saw Cael.
He wasn't intimidating. Not physically. Not loud. Just… wrong.
Like someone had sketched a child, then shaded the lines a little too dark.
One trainer leaned toward the other.
"Is that the Lavender kid? The one who made Brock forfeit without landing a hit?"
"That was rumor."
"I heard his Gastly doesn't even stay in a Poké Ball…"
Cael looked up, and both boys immediately looked away.
Ten minutes passed.
Then the lights dimmed.
A spotlight flared onto the center of the water field. Misty stood at the far platform, hands on her hips, hair pulled back, red side-ponytail whipping in the breeze of the fans.
"Welcome, challenger!" she called, voice amplified through the gym's speakers. "You here to battle for a Cascade Badge, or just for the show?"
Cael stood and walked to his platform across from her.
No theatrics. No flourish.
"I'm here to teach," he said.
Misty raised a brow.
"Teach what?"
"That not all battles need to end loud."
The audience murmured, unsure if it was arrogance or just… strange.
Misty laughed and tossed her first Poké Ball.
"Fine, Ghost Boy. Let's see what you've got."
A pulse of white light struck the water—and Starmie emerged, spinning once in the air before settling on the rippling surface. Its core glowed, steady and fierce.
Across the field, Cael whispered one word.
"Nyx."
The floor beneath him darkened—not just his shadow, but deeper. A swell of violet mist spiraled upward, and Gastly emerged without a Poké Ball. Slowly. Gracefully. Like a curtain lifting before a funeral.
The crowd quieted.
Nyx drifted forward, silent and hovering just above the water.
The lights dimmed slightly—just slightly.
Not by design.
By instinct.
Cael tilted his head.
"Begin."
"Starmie—Swift!"
The order came sharp, immediate.
The arena responded like a stage on cue.
Starmie's gem pulsed bright, and a flurry of golden stars burst from its core in perfect arcs—elegant and fast, slicing through the mist like precision spotlights.
The audience cheered.
For a second.
Then the stars passed straight through Nyx.
No flicker. No movement. No recoil.
Just vapor.
Starmie floated in place, rotating slightly, as if trying to process the lack of impact.
Misty frowned.
Nyx, still hovering just above the water, turned slowly. His gaseous form blurred at the edges—flickering like a dying film reel. One eye blinked. Then the other. Slowly. Deliberately.
And behind him, his shadow on the water shifted.
Cael didn't speak.
He didn't move.
He watched.
Misty called out again. "Confuse Ray, then dive!"
Starmie spun once in place and launched a wave of prismatic light toward Nyx—then plunged into the water below, its movement leaving ripples across the pool.
The beam of light struck the hovering Gastly's body—only to pass through again, warping oddly at the edges as if bouncing off a heat mirage.
Nyx simply rotated.
Lazily.
The lights above the gym dimmed.
Briefly.
Then returned to normal.
Misty's eyes narrowed. "You're just dodging."
"I'm not doing anything," Cael said softly. "You're doing plenty."
Above the water, the mist grew thicker.
At first it had seemed like a design choice—ambient effects, maybe stage smoke.
But it wasn't stage smoke.
It was Nyx.
His body was slowly shedding haze, thickening the air inch by inch. Not over the whole battlefield. Just in patches.
Just enough to obscure the edges of the land platforms. Just enough to disrupt depth perception.
"Starmie, surface left and use Rapid Spin!"
Nothing.
"Starmie!"
A faint gurgle. A ripple.
Then silence.
The audience shifted.
Cael spoke again, voice calm, not mocking—just informative.
"She dove into fog."
Misty ground her teeth. "You're trying to stall."
"No," Cael said. "I'm trying to teach you what panic looks like."
Nyx pulsed once in the fog. The shadows on the water rippled outward from him.
Another illusion?
No—an echo. A second Nyx, flickering faintly at the far end of the platform. Its grin was sharper. More visible. Hungrier.
Misty's gaze snapped to it. "Is that—?"
Cael said nothing.
The crowd was quiet now.
Even the speakers above buzzed with static, like the gym's audio had caught the tension and didn't know how to handle it.
Misty clenched a fist. "Starmie, recover and resurface! Center field!"
Nothing.
Then—ripples.
But not at center.
A violet glow began to rise near the right corner platform, far from where she'd expected.
Starmie floated back up, slower now, its gem dimmed slightly, its motion uncertain. The fog clung to its star points like tar.
Misty hesitated.
She didn't know if it had attacked anything.
She didn't know what it had seen.
Cael took a slow breath in.
Then spoke, finally, with command.
"Nyx. Hypnosis. Make the real one watch."
From the fog behind Starmie, the true Nyx shimmered into form—eyes glowing, grin impossibly wide.
A pulse of psychic light, spiraled and pale, reached out like a coil of moonlight.
Starmie turned too late.
The audience never even saw the impact.
Only the sudden stillness.
The ring of mist.
The silence.
The star-shaped body floated, motionless, on the water.
And Nyx—calmly—sank back into fog.
Misty's jaw tightened. "That… that wasn't a real battle. That was—"
"Confusion," Cael said. "Yours."
He gestured once.
Nyx drifted backward, hovering near his platform's edge.
Cael's hand stayed raised.
Not in triumph.
In invitation.
"Second round?"
Misty didn't waste time.
"Return, Starmie!" she snapped, and the unconscious Water/Psychic-type vanished in a flash of red light.
A second ball was already in her hand.
"Let's see your fog eat this."
She hurled it hard.
A crack of light tore through the mist as her second Pokémon roared into the gym air—long, serpentine, and massive.
Gyarados.
Its body slammed into the pool with the force of a cannon shot, sending water crashing against the walls. Mist and fog scattered momentarily. Nyx flickered backward to dodge the surge.
The crowd cheered again—but less enthusiastically now. Something about the atmosphere still hadn't returned to normal.
Cael didn't flinch. He only lowered his hand.
"Still playing for the crowd?"
Misty raised her chin. "No. Just done playing with you."
Gyarados opened its mouth, fangs bared. A swirling glow began to form in its throat.
"Hydro Pump!"
Cael's eyes narrowed.
"Vanish."
Nyx didn't need more than that. He darted downward into the fog, his body collapsing into mist. The Hydro Pump blasted through the gym with the sound of a bomb—water ripping across the far platform and cracking a chunk of stone.
No impact.
No contact.
Misty hissed through her teeth.
"Twister! Sweep the field!"
Gyarados thrashed its body violently, spinning in place. Winds howled through the gym, sending fog into violent spirals. Gusts tore through the upper lighting, and even a few audience members near the front row leaned back as the water surged.
But the fog didn't clear.
It danced with the wind. Moved with it. Like a cloak.
The gust only thickened it.
A decoy flickered again across the water—a false Nyx bobbing with a mocking grin just within Gyarados's sight.
"Bite it!" Misty snapped.
The beast lunged forward—massive jaws snapping closed on empty gas.
A split-second later, Nyx materialized directly behind it.
"Now," Cael said. "Curse."
Nyx's eyes glowed red.
His body darkened. Twisted inward.
Misty's eyes widened. "Wait—"
It was too late.
The air rippled around Nyx as the curse took hold—his own health draining as a red spiritual sigil etched itself into Gyarados's side like a glowing scar.
The sea serpent reared back and roared in agony.
Misty looked stunned.
"You're hurting your own Pokémon—"
"No," Cael said flatly. "Nyx volunteered."
Nyx's grin twisted wider. His gaseous body pulsed faintly. Slower now. Fading—but pleased.
Misty's voice cracked: "Gyarados—Dragon Rage! Now!"
The beast reared again, mouth crackling with blue flames.
Cael stepped back slightly. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Fog lock."
The mist—reactive to Nyx's residual aura—pulled tight around Gyarados's form like ropes of smoke, obscuring its line of sight and causing the energy in its jaws to scatter.
The Dragon Rage loosed wide—blasting into the wall behind Cael's platform. Chunks of tile exploded outward. One ember hit a gym light, shattering it.
Nyx pulsed once. Cael gave a single nod.
"Now confuse it."
Nyx flickered above the surface again, eyes pulsing with distorted spiral light.
This time, Gyarados saw it—but not clearly. Two Nyx forms shimmered at once. Then three. Each one shifting like a mirage in stormclouds.
The curse kicked in again.
Gyarados howled.
It thrashed. Bit the air. Snapped at a phantom.
It hit the water with its own body.
Hard.
The gym rumbled.
Misty's voice cracked again. "Calm down! Focus on—!"
Another curse tick.
More thrashing.
Gyarados slammed into the side of the pool, cracking tile and sending mist curling back up into the ceiling fans.
It tried to right itself—then collapsed into the water fully, unmoving.
The fog around it hissed.
And then settled.
Cael lowered his hand.
Nyx slowly hovered back to his side, flickering with strain but unbroken. He hadn't attacked directly once.
And Misty?
Misty was frozen.
The crowd had no idea when to clap.
The music system clicked softly—cycling awkwardly into a victory chime that no one really believed in.
"Return," Misty muttered, calling Gyarados back in a burst of red light.
She stared at Cael.
"You didn't battle. You… dissected me."
Cael tilted his head.
"I asked if you wanted to learn."
She stared at him for a long moment, then looked away.
"I don't know what kind of trainer you are," she said, quieter now, "but you're not doing this for fun. Or pride. Are you?"
"No."
He stepped off the platform. Nyx followed, slow and dim.
Before he reached the gym doors, Misty called after him.
"…What are you doing this for?"
Cael paused at the threshold.
Then said without turning,
"Someone's watching."
And left.
Misty stood silent for a moment after Gyarados's defeat, staring at the cracked tile, the drifting fog.
Then her jaw tightened.
"One more."
Cael didn't move.
"I've got one left," she said, louder now—mostly for the crowd. "One clean fight. No fog. No theatrics. Just battle."
Cael glanced at Nyx, who pulsed weakly beside him, his mist barely clinging together.
He didn't answer right away.
Then he lifted one hand.
A sharp gesture.
Nyx vanished back into the shadow beneath his feet—no recall beam, no Poké Ball. Just darkness.
"I'll allow one more," Cael said. "But I won't repeat myself."
Misty didn't hesitate.
She snapped her final Poké Ball into the air.
It burst with a hiss of steam and light.
Seadra.
Sleek. Razor-finned. Its eyes burned with competitive hunger, snorting water vapor from its nostrils as it hit the pool with a splash.
It wasted no time circling the arena, sending shockwaves outward from its coiled tail.
Fast.
Too fast for fog.
Perfect.
Exactly what Cael expected.
"Start with Agility," Misty called. "Then Water Pulse, now!"
Seadra vanished in a streak of motion across the surface. It blurred left, right, then fired—blue rings pulsing through the air, each one distorting the space between her and the enemy side.
Cael let it fly.
Then whispered, "Nyx."
The water beside him bubbled.
Not in front. Not where the audience looked. Not where Misty expected.
Behind him.
Nyx rose—not floating, but curled into the water like ink.
Not an entrance.
A trap.
The fog didn't fill the gym this time.
It stayed low, clinging to the water's surface like film on an old photograph.
Seadra didn't notice.
Another Water Pulse.
Another miss.
"Where are you even aiming?!" Misty barked, frustrated.
Then she spotted something—
A shimmer on the water. A faint reflection.
A second Gastly.
Hovering mid-pool, clear as glass, visible to everyone.
"That's it—Seadra, Ice Beam! Break the illusion!"
Seadra whipped around, mouth glowing, a crackling spike of blue-white energy firing forward and striking the illusion dead-on.
The fake Gastly shattered into fragments of violet mist.
The crowd cheered.
Misty raised her hand in victory—
Then stopped.
Her Seadra wasn't moving.
The water beneath it rippled strangely.
A spiral had formed around its lower body.
A glowing, red, binding sigil.
Not from the fake.
From beneath it.
The audience gasped.
Misty's face drained of color.
"When did—?"
Cael didn't even look up.
"She was watching the illusion. Not her shadow."
The real Nyx surged up beneath Seadra, emerging from its own reflection. His eyes gleamed red as the Curse activated—fully charged, triggered not by damage, but misdirection.
Seadra spasmed in place, its body lurching uncontrollably as the spiritual curse twisted its aura inward. It thrashed—but the water no longer responded to its speed.
It was locked.
Seconds later, it collapsed, twitching once—and went still.
Silence.
No music this time.
No chime.
Just quiet.
Misty stood still for a full three seconds.
Then, with visible restraint, pulled out Seadra's ball and returned it without a word.
She walked across the now-quiet platform.
Met Cael halfway.
Held out the Cascade Badge—gleaming and pale blue like frozen water.
Cael took it.
She didn't let go right away.
Then finally, her voice, soft: "What are you?"
Cael met her eyes for the first time.
"A student."
He turned before she could say more.
Nyx slid back into his shadow.
And the fog, which had never truly left, followed him out of the gym doors.