Dustox Swarm

Looking at the two children playing wildly in the yard as usual, Grandma Dracelia sighed and made a decision—it was time to get them to study a little in advance.

It is said that a book is a silent teacher. Perhaps, after reading and understanding the principles within, they would naturally grow into successful individuals in the future.

For some reason, just as Allen was watering the plants and mixing mud, a sudden chill ran down his spine, as if some great misfortune was about to befall him.

And sure enough, moments later, he saw Grandma Dracelia walking toward them—carrying a pile of books.

If they were normal books, Allen wouldn't have minded. But the moment his eyes landed on the covers—all of them blue and purple from top to bottom—his pupils constricted in horror.

Without a second thought, he grabbed Cynthia's hand, interrupting her as she carefully kneaded a clay figurine. Then, in one swift motion, he bolted—dragging her along before Grandma could utter a single word.

'Let's make a run for it!'

"Hey, hey, hey! Slow down! My clay figure—!" Cynthia yelped, her voice filled with distress as the fruits of her afternoon's labor were nearly ruined.

But Allen couldn't allow her to hesitate. If Cynthia was caught, she would definitely spill all of his secret hiding spots!

Behind them, Grandma Dracelia's warm smile gradually cracked. Her gentle act faded, replaced by a sharp glint in her eyes.

"Allen, you dare to corrupt Cynthia and turn her into a little troublemaker too?! Come back here this instant!"

But the two children only ran faster.

"Grandma! Cynthia and I suddenly remembered—we have something very, very important to do! Bye-bye!"

Their small figures disappeared into the distance, leaving a fuming Grandma Dracelia behind, watching as her mischievous grandson and his partner-in-crime made their daring escape.

Although Allen had small arms and legs, he was not slow at all when running. And because of his small body, he could move more easily.

Even though the situation was clearly dangerous, Allen couldn't help but feel a spark of joy in his heart.

In his previous life, as far back as he could remember, his childhood had been nothing but a constant struggle to adapt to his ever-working brain—one that never switched off, always scanning, analyzing, and recording everything around him.

But this?

This was the first time he could simply act like a child—the kind of childhood he had always longed for, even in his previous life after he had grown up.

However, Allen knew his limits. Mount Coronet, or more precisely, the land where Celestic Town was located, was only a small part of the vast mountain range.

With his young age and small stature, a single mistake could lead to him getting lost—or worse, encountering a dangerous Pokémon. So he deliberately avoided accident-prone areas such as rockery, pools, wells, and others.

He wandered alongside Cynthia, the two of them embarking on their little adventure—until they arrived at a vast stretch of open land, nothing but earth beneath their feet and sky above their heads.

This was the place where he and Cynthia always sneaked off to whenever they got bored of their "I Wanna Be the Very Best" game.

Beyond this point lay the dense forest leading to Route 210, one of the longest and most challenging routes in the region. The trek from Celestic Town to Solaceon Town was no joke, and Allen had no intention of testing their luck.

But this time, Allen stopped abruptly. Cynthia, unaware, took another step forward—until Allen's hand shot out, gripping hers firmly and urgently.

"Allen?"

It was too quiet.

No wind stirred the trees. No leaves rustled. No insects or birds chirped.

Then, the first flicker of movement—subtle, almost unnoticeable. The branches, stretching as far as their eyes could see, swayed ever so slightly.

To an unsuspecting observer, it might have seemed like a simple breeze passing through. But Allen knew better. The air was still. There was no wind. That movement was not natural.

Then, all at once, the branches trembled. Wings, folded and hidden, now unfurled in eerie unison, catching the dim light and shimmering with an unnatural glow.

A Pokémon—no, one. Two. Then a dozen. Then too many to count.

Dustox.

A swarm of Dustox.

Cynthia instinctively clutched Allen's arm. "Are they—?"

"Dustox," Allen quickly recognized the Pokémon and looked up at the sky.

It was almost dark. He had just now realized it.

'Damn it,' he cursed inwardly before explaining to Cynthia, "It's Dustox. They're nocturnal Pokémon, feeding on tree leaves after the sun sets. Now that it's getting dark, they're probably heading out for a night stroll."

Only then did he and Cynthia realize just how long they had been playing. They hadn't even noticed that the sky was growing darker.

"A-Allen…"

She instinctively tightened her grip on his hand. She had never been outside this late before, and being a good girl, the unfamiliar darkness made her nervous.

"Don't worry," Allen reassured her. "They're either just swarming after eating, mud-puddling, or it's mating season."

"Mud-puddling? Mating season?" Cynthia tilted her head in confusion.

"It means they like to gather in groups on wet soil to drink special water that has important minerals, like salt," Allen explained. "The males need these minerals to help when they have babies, so they pass them to the females during mating. That's probably why we saw so many of them here. They also spread a sweet smell in the air to attract other butterflies."

Cynthia blinked, taking in the familiar yet unfamiliar keywords in the information. Somehow, knowing all if that for her however made them seem a little less scary for her.

Dustox naturally uses the moon to navigate but becomes confused and disoriented around bright lights if they are too strong. Like moths, it lingers near lights because its eyes struggle to readjust to the dark or because it mistakes the light for an escape route.

Now, since the sky was already darkening, Allen paled as he realized something.

Celestic Town! The lights!

His incomplete Pokédex was truly useful at times like this. When Dustox flap their wings, they release clouds of fine, toxic powder—strong enough to make even pro wrestlers sick. They use this as a defense, scattering the dust to deter enemies.

The problem was that one or two Dustox wouldn't be a threat. But an entire swarm? When they moved together, they didn't just flap their wings—their fine, toxic dust spread uncontrollably, carried by the air in every direction.

And now, they were headed straight for where they stood.

Allen didn't hesitate. He yanked the scarf from his neck and quickly grabbed the water bottle he usually used for wetting dirt when playing with mud.

Pouring the water over the fabric, he soaked both scarves before swiftly securing one over Cynthia's nose and mouth like a makeshift mask, then doing the same for himself.

The dampened scarves would help filter out the toxic dust, but it wouldn't be enough if they stayed in place. They had to move—fast.

"Do not take this off. No matter what," Allen said firmly, his eyes scanning the terrain. Then, he turned sharply, realization hitting him.

'Damn it… Buneary and Chingling didn't notice us running—they're not following.'

The air was thick with shimmering powder, distorting everything around them. The eerie, toxic particles swirled and drifted closer, turning the space between them into a hazy, shimmering veil.

Silent and tense, Allen squeezed Cynthia's wrist. "Run."

Without hesitation, they bolted.

And then—WHAM!

Just as they turned to flee for their lives, a sudden gust of wind smacked them right in the face—hard. It was strong and completely unexpected, sending their damp scarves flapping wildly like startled wings.

Cynthia let out a squeak as her cheeks puffed up like an overinflated Jigglypuff, while Allen's lips flapped from the impact, making him look like a startled Quagsire. For a moment, they just stood there, wide-eyed and stunned.

Then, out of nowhere, Cynthia suddenly jabbed a finger at the sky.

"Allen, that's Ching and Bun!"

Allen wanted to burst out laughing at Cynthia's reaction, but he was just as startled. Following her pointed finger, he squinted up at the sky—was that... an Altaria?

'Is that… Aunt Drasna?' Excitement flickered in Allen's chest.

Sitting on top of Altaria was Buneary—and on top of Buneary was Chingling. A very strange sight.

"Buneary~"

"Chingling~"

"Altaria, Tailwind!"

Then came a voice—like a strong wind rustling through ancient trees, yet unwavering in its own kind of strength.

Altaria flapped its majestic wings, stirring the air into a powerful, swirling whirlwind. The gust surged forward, catching Buneary and Chingling from behind, propelling them forward at an impressive speed.

In an instant, the two Pokémon shot through the air like fluffy projectiles, racing toward Allen and Cynthia. But the Tailwind did more than just speed them up.

The thick, shimmering dust that had been creeping dangerously swept away, scattering into the air and breaking apart like mist before a storm.

"What are you two doing here? Do you realize how dangerous this place is? If I hadn't seen those two Pokémon desperately searching for you, who knows what could have happened?"

Cynthia had never seen this elderly woman before, and a bit of shyness crept into her posture. But Allen—still caught in a daze—could only stare.

The woman had deep gray hair, neatly tied back, and wrinkles so pronounced that her eyes almost seemed closed. 

"Grandma Wilma!"