Searching

Allen didn't expect to be saved by the Pokéball he picked up.

He grabbed it with his left hand, his mind racing as he instinctively prepared to throw it. Years of watching Pokémon movies and anime had him itching to just throw the ball and let his Pokémon take over. But just as he was about to toss it, his right hand shot out and grabbed his left mid-air.

Whoosh!

Giratina materialized on his left, swirling in a ghostly mist that smelled faintly like sulfur and regret. "Come on, throw it! You've got to see the Hisuian Zoroark! It's like one in a million! You have to—"

"You again!! Shut up, you asshole!"

But before Giratina could finish, a voice boomed from Allen's right, sounding like it was coming from the depths of a divine megaphone.

Arceus appeared, radiating so much light that it looked like someone had dumped an entire cosmic latte over the god of Pokémon. "Don't listen to that ghostly trash. You want to risk throwing that ball because of that idiot? Do you even know what's in there?"

Giratina, unfazed, grinned. "Think of the glory! You'll be a hero—everyone will talk about you! You'll be like, 'That guy who caught the one-in-a-million Pokémon!' People will give you free snacks, you'll have your own reality show—"

"This motherfucker—" Arceus interrupted, his voice like thunder.

Allen was still holding the Pokéball, his mind swirling in confusion, when a sound suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

It was a sound of pain, desperation—raw emotion. Allen's head snapped to the side, his heart skipping a beat.

"Absol!!!"

A few feet away, an Absol stood—its fur matted, its eyes wide with terror. There was a desperate, pleading look in its eyes as it limped forward, dragging something in its mouth.

Another Absol.

This one was badly injured. Its once sleek fur was torn and bloodied, and its body was shaking with weakness. The Absol let out a soft, pained cry before it collapsed to the ground, its legs unable to hold it up any longer.

His heart sank.

The Hisuian Zoroark managed to injure the Absol by relying on its speed. If only the Absol hadn't been injured beforehand, the Hisuian Zoroark would never have stood a chance.

There was no time to think.

"Wait here," Allen barely managed to say before he sprinted toward the crates where he had picked up his Pokéball.

The panic of the situation made him forget that he had taken a shortcut guided by Absol. In his rush, he didn't follow the main road where the diggers and Pokémon Rangers were waiting.

When Allen emerged from the tunnel entrance and saw the scene before him, he was momentarily stunned, unable to move.

Everyone was unconscious.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered under his breath.

Curious, he kicked the nearest person and immediately noticed the layer of ice covering their skin, as if they'd been left in a freezer overnight.

'Bitter Malice...' Allen thought to himself, recognizing it instantly.

It was Hisuian Zoroark's signature move.

As he looked around, he saw that most of the people were still clutching their Pokéballs. It meant they'd been ambushed by the Hisuian Zoroark—and they still hadn't realized it.

To be safe, he confiscated all their Pokéballs and placed them in a bag, securing them in a hidden spot. Just as he finished, a thought struck him—he suddenly remembered the large tent set up near the river.

His eyes lit up. 'I can't believe I haven't found a single potion yet! There has to be something useful in here!' Allen muttered to himself, frustration creeping into his voice.

Rather than wasting time going back to the crates, it made more sense to check the tent first. If he was lucky, he might also find something useful right away.

Just as he was about to take off, his eyes landed on one of the men lying nearby—a man wearing a military uniform.

"..."

Allen froze. A chill ran down his spine as he suddenly remembered this guy's existence. Heart pounding, he approached cautiously, each step measured and silent. As he got closer, his eyes flickered to the thin layer of ice covering the man's skin.

He hadn't moved at all—no shivering, no reaction. Allen exhaled in relief. 'He's completely out.'

Not wanting to take any chances, he reached down and carefully unstrapped the backpack from the man's back. If anyone had useful supplies, it would be him. 'After all, it's the military, right?'

With the bag secured, Allen quickly unzipped it and began rummaging through its contents.

The first thing he found was a large, folded piece of paper. Curious, he unfolded it—and to his surprise, it was a map. Or to be exact, a topographic map of the cave.

Allen gave an approving nod toward the unconscious man. 'Nice work, soldier.'

The map was incredibly detailed, highlighting the terrain, elevations, and key landmarks. It marked not only the location of a Dialga and Palkia statue but also pinpointed the exact spot where their tent was set up. This suggested that the map either belonged to them or had been recently drawn.

The second thing he found was a rope. Allen decided to bind all of them first to ensure they wouldn't wake up and cause trouble. After securing their hands and feet tightly, he finally felt safe enough to focus on his next move.

The third thing he found was a Potion. Finally.

Without hesitation, he sprinted back to where Absol lay.

The Potion was small and cylindrical, with a rounded base and a narrow neck—just like the ones seen in Pokémon movies.

Allen wasted no time. He sprayed it directly onto the wound where Hisuian Zoroark had struck earlier. The effect was almost instantaneous.

As the cool liquid made contact with the injury, a faint hissing sound filled the air, like water evaporating on a hot surface. The Potion absorbed quickly, sinking into Absol's skin as a soft, soothing glow spread across the wounded area.

Cuts and scratches began to close, bruises faded, and even deeper wounds stopped bleeding within seconds. The damaged tissue seemed to knit itself back together, leaving behind smooth, unblemished fur as if the injury had never existed.

In less than a minute, Absol was completely healed.

"Holy moly," Allen muttered in disbelief. "This stuff is more potent than Betadine and Tetayocin combined."

He then turned toward the still-conscious Absol. "Do you want to follow me or stay here?"

Absol met his gaze, its crimson eyes filled with unspoken emotions. It hesitated for a moment, glancing at its partner, then back at Allen. Slowly, it shook its head before bending its front legs. With a quiet exhale, it settled into a resting position, its body relaxing as exhaustion took over.

"It's fine then. Wait for me here, alright?"

Without hesitation, he took off toward the tent, his steps quick and cautious. The criminal diggers were still unconscious, but Allen didn't want to take any chances, so he did his best to stay silent.

When he finally arrived, the tent stood undisturbed, as if nothing had happened. No signs of struggle, no trace of the chaos outside. Carefully, Allen scanned the area, his eyes darting from one side to the other. He listened closely—no movement, no voices.

Once he was sure it was empty, he took a deep breath and slipped inside.

"Oohh—Bingo!"

His eyes landed on a radio—the exact same model commonly used. Nothing too fancy, but definitely useful. Without hesitation, he picked it up and switched some dials to turn it on.

No response. It didn't power on.

Confused, Allen frowned. At first, he thought the radio was broken, but then he noticed something else—the reason it seemed dead.

Nearby, a strange device sat on a crate. It looked like a small suitcase, but with several thin, long antennas and a small digital display showing operational status, power levels, and frequency settings.

The display was lit. A signal jammer.

Allen quickly shut it off.

The moment the jammer powered down, he turned back to the radio, adjusting the dials once more. This time, it responded. Grabbing the mic, he started flipping through the channels, searching for an active frequency.

"Time to report these tomb raiders!"

Unbeknownst to Allen, the moment he shut off the signal jammer, miles away in Celestic Town, inside a dimly lit tent, Professor Rowan's tired eyes widened in surprise.

For hours, he had been hunched over a rugged computer, his fingers tirelessly typing on the unresponsive keyboard, trying to search for any nearby signal.

Then, without warning, the small connectivity icon on his screen flickered to life.

Rowan straightened, his fingers pausing over the keys. He blinked, almost not believing it. But as the signal strengthened, his expression hardened.

"I found him!!!"

Back to the scene where Allen found the radio:

Just as he was about to adjust the radio, he froze, his grip tightening around the device. Before he could make contact, his eyes landed on something unexpected—something far more surprising.

He remembered overhearing the two diggers earlier, where they mentioned they had already dug up a Pokémon egg.

And those eggs?

They were right in front of him.

Two of them, to be exact.