Deep within the forests of Purple Lychee Mountain lay Goldenlight City's most well-kept secret — a hidden base belonging to a notorious illegal Pokémon poaching ring.
Tonight, that secret was no more.
Fire crackled through the trees. Explosions shook the earth. The sharp snap of lightning split the air. This was no friendly sparring match between trainers — it was a full-scale raid.
Sheriffs dispatched by the Pokémon League had tracked the poaching organization across hundreds of miles and finally cornered them here. To bolster their numbers, they had also enlisted the help of several willing trainers from Goldenlight City itself. Together, they pressed in on the base from all sides, giving the poachers no room to breathe.
One by one, the criminals were being driven back. Some were caught on the spot. Others, who chose to resist, found themselves frozen solid or scorched by their opponents' Pokémon before they could even react.
A handful of the more cunning poachers, however, refused to go down so easily.
Knowing the mountain's terrain better than anyone, they slipped away through a narrow secret path that wound behind the base. It was a smart move — or so they thought. Deep inside Purple Lychee Mountain, the forest was dense and tangled. A few hundred meters into the trees and even a trained Growlithe tracking by scent would struggle to follow.
But the sheriff leading the raid had not spent weeks hunting these criminals only to let a few of them vanish into the jungle at the last moment. He had already thought ahead.
The poachers hadn't made it more than a dozen steps down the path when they stopped dead in their tracks.
Someone was already there, blocking the way.
It was a boy — fourteen, maybe fifteen years old, with a lean build and fair skin. He was crouching in the middle of the path, lazily poking at a motionless Metapod resting in the grass beside him with a stick he must have picked up nearby. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about the chaos echoing through the trees behind him.
His name was Nova. He was a trainer who had been making a name for himself in Goldenlight City lately, known among local trainers for his calm and composed battling style. The sheriff had asked him to cover this route as backup, and Nova had agreed — though his idea of "standing by" apparently involved tormenting a wild Metapod with a twig.
When the poachers came stumbling down the path and nearly tripped over him, Nova sighed, tossed the stick aside, and stood up. His expression was somewhere between bored and mildly annoyed.
"Looks like the road ahead will have to wait," he muttered, glancing at Metapod with something close to apology before turning to face the group.
The poachers stared at him for only a moment before their confusion turned to irritation.
"A kid? Get out of our way before you get hurt!"
They didn't wait for a response. Three Pokémon were released almost simultaneously — an Electabuzz crackling with electricity, a Cloyster gleaming under the moonlight, and a Roserade with razor-edged petals already spinning between its bouquet hands. Their trainers gave the order without hesitation.
Thunderbolt. Icicle Spear. Razor Leaf.
Three attacks shot toward Nova at once. If even one connected, a boy his size would be in serious trouble.
None of them connected.
A faint pink energy bloomed silently in the air between Nova and the oncoming attacks. All three strikes slowed, then stopped entirely — hanging in midair like they had struck an invisible wall — before finally detonating together in a single explosion that sent smoke billowing across the path.
When the haze cleared, something large was moving in the bushes to Nova's left.
It stepped out slowly, and the poachers went very quiet.
The Pokémon stood on four sturdy legs. Its body was pale purple, marked with dark patches across its hide. Its large ears sat high on its head, and a thick, pointed horn jutted forward from its brow. Its eyes swept across the group with a calm, steady gaze that somehow felt more threatening than a snarl.
It was a Nidorino.
A Nidorino the size of a small jeep.
The contrast between the slim boy beside it and the enormous Pokémon was almost absurd. Nova reached up and gently placed a hand on Nidorino's horn, rubbing it slowly.
"Easy, Arno," he said quietly. "They didn't mean anything by it. Calm down."
Arno let out a low rumble but settled slightly, though its eyes never left the poachers.
Nova's expression, meanwhile, remained perfectly composed.
He had good reason to keep Arno calm during battles. As Nidorino's level had grown, so had its size — and its temper. Left to its own devices in a real fight, Arno had a habit of getting carried away. And when Nidorino went truly berserk, there wasn't much a boy with lean arms and legs could do to pull it back.
This was simply the nature of the species. Nidorino were well-known for their volatile temperaments even under normal circumstances. In the wild, they were often spotted charging horn-first into boulders just to vent frustration. As an intermediate stage of its evolutionary line, the instability was almost expected.
The long-term answer was a Moon Stone. One dose of its energy would push Arno into its final form, and with that evolution would come a steadier, more controlled temperament. The problem was that Moon Stones were rare and expensive, and Nova's funds were, to put it generously, limited. That was exactly why he had been taking on every available job lately — including tonight's.
The poachers, meanwhile, were still staring at Arno.
The sheer size of the Pokémon was alarming enough on its own. But what truly gave them pause was what it had just done. That shimmering pink energy that had stopped three simultaneous attacks cold — that was Psychic. And Nidorino was not supposed to know Psychic.
It wasn't a move Nidorino could learn through normal leveling or even standard TM use. The only Nidorinos capable of using Psychic were those that had inherited the move — passed down through careful and deliberate breeding. It was exceptionally rare, and it spoke volumes about the quality and heritage of this particular Nidorino.
The poachers exchanged glances. Then, despite everything, they charged.
If long-range attacks were being blocked by Psychic, the answer was obvious — get in close and overwhelm it through sheer force.
Three Pokémon — and their trainers — surged forward together, voices raised, faces set with grim determination.
Nova watched them come. Then he slowly raised one hand to cover his face.
It was partly because he knew what was about to happen, and partly because he genuinely could not bring himself to watch.
The Electabuzz, charging out front, hit the first one.
It stepped into a faint purple shimmer — barely visible on the ground — and the effect was immediate. Toxic Spikes. The poison surged up through its leg in an instant, spreading fast. The Electabuzz's powerful stride faltered. Its crackling energy dimmed. Its movements became sluggish and unsteady, its Attack, Speed, and Special Attack all dragging under the weight of the venom now coursing through its system.
The leader of the group had half a second to process what he was seeing.
"Toxic Spikes — watch where you're stepping!" he barked. "It's a trap!"
And then he stepped into one himself.
The realization settled over the group like a cold wave. The boy standing calmly in the middle of the path had not simply been waiting for them. He had prepared the entire area beforehand — seeding the ground with Toxic Spikes and scattering them across every likely approach route while Arno kept watch from the treeline.
Stepping into Toxic Spikes was the better outcome, as it turned out.
Because as the poachers pushed forward, they began to feel something else — faint, sharp stings registering against skin and scale alike. Invisible at rest, hundreds of tiny Poison Sting needles drifted through the air between the trees, only revealing themselves on contact. A brush against four or five of them was enough to layer the venom deep. And once the poison took hold, Arno followed up with a precise Psychic strike from range, targeting each affected Pokémon in sequence and leaving them unable to continue.
Within minutes, the path was still.
The remaining poachers stood at the edge of the treeline, looking at Nova, then at Arno, then at the trail of fainted Pokémon between them, and seemed to arrive at the same conclusion at roughly the same time.
One of them, still looking slightly dazed, shook his head slowly. "Is that even a legal Nidorino?"
Nova didn't bother answering. He had heard the question before.
Getting Arno's Poison-type moves to function at this level had taken almost every resource Nova had — time, money, and more than a few sleepless nights working through training strategies. The result was a Nidorino with a Psychic inheritance, Poison-type coverage that most trainers couldn't replicate, and a body large enough to make grown adults take a step back.
More than a few trainers who had faced him in the past had walked away muttering that Nova's whole approach was cheap, or excessive, or just plain unfair.
Nova found that more amusing than anything else.
If they think this is too much, he thought, glancing at Arno's broad, sturdy back as the Nidorino snorted quietly in the cool night air, wait until I find that Moon Stone.