Pokemon Paldea [309-310] (Patreon)

Chapter 309: Larvitar: How can someone even steal dirt?

Around 3 p.m., the poaching squad finally reached their target—a lone female Tyranitar carrying an unhatched Larvitar egg, still searching for a suitable territory to bury it.

According to intel provided by Team Rocket, this female Tyranitar was strong—so much so that she deemed the male Tyranitar unfit to protect their child, kicked him away, and chose to raise the offspring alone.

But for some reason she was currently weakened. Her gray-green armor was covered in burns that, even after half a month since Rocket spies discovered her, had yet to fully heal.

One couldn't help but wonder what kind of powerful Fire-type Pokémon could seriously injure the so-called Desert Tyrant like this.

Initially, Team Rocket gave them two targets: this powerful but solitary female Tyranitar, and a young Tyranitar couple.

The poachers' first choice was the egg held by the young couple. Young parents are careless and inexperienced; snatching their egg and bagging them afterward would be far easier than dealing with a seasoned female Tyranitar.

Unfortunately, subsequent intel indicated the young couple had already buried their egg—and it might have hatched—so they switched to the more difficult female Tyranitar. If not for her clearly poor condition, they would never have accepted this job.

Gazing into the deep cavern and listening to the thunderous breathing, the poachers' boss knew the female Tyranitar was using sleep to reduce energy consumption and accelerate healing.

This, without doubt, gave them time to prepare.

Their Pokémon could at best pressure Tyranitar with type-advantaged moves—nothing decisive. Their real trump card was—

The boss looked back. His men were busily assembling their trump card.

A turret like a slumbering behemoth stood there: the Behemoth Cannon, provided by Team Rocket, a technological cannon developed specifically for terrestrial wreckers like Tyranitar.

The cannon's body was made of an unknown black alloy, covered in fine patterns that glinted with a metallic sheen under the sun while emanating an air of mystery.

Its thick barrel coiled like a dragon.

When the cannon was finally assembled, the boss couldn't help but sigh, "With this, even the Desert Tyrant will have to bow its head."

A dozen subordinates were flushed with excitement, already daydreaming about their cut of the payout.

"You brats, what's there to get so worked up about?"

The boss swore with a laugh, yet the mood infected him too. He began to fantasize about completing the job, leaving Johto with a big reward, returning home to a glorious wedding and a future full of children and grandchildren.

But heaven loves jokes. Before the poachers could launch their operation against the female Tyranitar, an immense pressure descended from the sky.

From above, a dragon's roar—echoing across half of Mt. Silver—scattered the clouds. A gale crashed down, forcing the poachers to bow their heads.

Someone braced against the wind to look up, then went pale with fear.

"It's Lance, the Dragon Master!!"

Hearts pounded like drums; panic spread across their faces.

As if to confirm it, a Dragonite folded its wings and descended. Its usually kind face overflowed with gravity and majesty.

On its back stood a red-haired man in a cape—Lance, the Dragon Master, a nightmare to poachers.

He took in the scene—the erected supercannon, the female Tyranitar now awakened by Dragonite's arrival, thundering toward them from the cave—and he needed no further explanation.

These scum were after Tyranitar's egg.

Righteous disgust flashed across Lance's handsome face. Hating evil like poison, he released his dragon legion without hesitation.

Before absolute power, even an elite poaching squad could not last. In under ten minutes, they were all on the ground.

The Tyranitar was also subdued by Dragonite. She clutched the egg hidden beneath her armor and roared in hatred at Dragonite.

Lance ignored her outburst, ordered his men to take custody of the poachers, then turned to examine Tyranitar up close. After a moment, he realized the truth and sighed, "You actually fought Moltres—something even I would find troublesome—to seize its territory for your child. I can't tell if that's reckless courage or excessive motherly love."

Tyranitar felt insulted and struggled harder. That made things tricky for Dragonite; there was an egg under that armor, and it mustn't be harmed.

Faced with the choice between using more force on Tyranitar or dealing with the person agitating her—Lance—Dragonite chose the latter without hesitation.

Under his own Dragonite's fierce glare, Lance raised both hands. "Okay, okay, I'll back off right now."

After moving away, Lance had his dragon legion search nearby, but found no trace of Lucas.

Lance frowned. "Where did he go?"

He could only hope Lucas hadn't come to Mt. Silver to catch Pokémon.

Ordinary people come to Mt. Silver either to train or to catch Pokémon—powerful, cool ones like Tyranitar.

Surely no one would come just to chop trees, dig dirt, and move rocks, right?
Entering Mt. Silver to catch Pokémon without proper procedures is tantamount to poaching, but the Johto League wouldn't really try Lucas as a poacher. Rules are dead; people are alive.

All this made Lance's temples throb.

"Forget it. I'll search the area and explain the seriousness to him."

…

Unaware, the Tyranitar couple were locked in fierce battle with a Duraludon. Beneath their feet, an outlaw was directing Pokémon to bag soil and stuff it into an apparently bottomless spatial backpack.

After Lucas had used up over half the burlap sacks he bought at the Goldenrod Department Store, he noticed—by dim flashlight in the claustrophobic tunnel—the silhouettes of two Alolan Sandslash.

Their ice-sheathed steel quills were striking, exhaling a fog-like chill—enough for Lucas to recognize them at once.

The Sandslash couple stood at a tunnel mouth leading to a larger chamber, looking helplessly at a tiny gray-green figure sleeping in the middle of a small underground hollow.

When Lucas arrived, the Sandslash pair rumbled and stepped aside to let him pass.

The flashlight beam fell on the little Pokémon in the chamber, revealing its details.

A pokemon with rock-like gray-green skin, a blunt horn, and short arms—Larvitar!

It slept soundly, sprawled out with its belly up. The diamond-shaped red belly scale was obvious, and the four little diamond-shaped black vents on its waist made one wonder if Larvitar was hollow inside.

Next moment.

Perhaps accustomed to darkness, even the flashlight—already turned to minimum—was an alien stimulus to a Larvitar living in pitch-black underground.

"Larvi~…"

Its little hands twitched; its closed eyes trembled.

Moments later, Larvitar opened its red eyes and fixed on the three intruders—Lucas and the Sandslash couple.

As if remembering something, Lucas looked terrified: "!!!"

The Sandslash froze: "."

Larvitar: 0.0

Stared at by Larvitar, Lucas panicked. He remembered how Ash once cared for a Larvitar with an ear-splitting cry. If that echoed in this cave…

Fortunately this Larvitar seemed braver and more outgoing, without the psychological trauma Ash's Larvitar had in the egg.

It simply sat up, tilting its little head, curiously staring at the three outsiders. Its tiny legs swung with its curiosity.

Lacking experience, Larvitar felt more curiosity than fear toward Lucas and the Sandslash pair.

Lucas sensed an opportunity.

He called the two Sandslash and started collecting soil right in the chamber—

Because this was the most nutritious soil in the area where Larvitar lived!

A strange equilibrium formed: Larvitar watched curiously while Lucas and the Sandslash worked—one shoveling away with a spade, the other two scooping deftly—filling sacks with Larvitar's food.

Larvitar's brain, rusted by long days underground of eat-sleep-eat, started up again.

An hour later.

Larvitar finally realized Lucas and the Sandslash were plundering its food!!!
Wait—who steals dirt!?

A pang of grievance surged in Larvitar's heart. When hunger struck a beat later and it saw its future meals expertly bagged and stuffed into a spatial pack, the grievance peaked—

Larvitar narrowed its eyes, pursed its mouth, and was about to bawl at Lucas and the Sandslash.

Luckily the female Sandslash was more attentive than the digging-drunk Lucas and the male Sandslash. Sensing Larvitar's shifting expression and the change in mood, she alerted Lucas.

In the next instant, just as Larvitar was about to wail, Lucas moved like lightning, grabbed a prepared box, and popped one of his special Pokéblocks into Larvitar's open mouth—

The strange texture and rich flavor made Larvitar's eyes widen as it chewed involuntarily.

Even though soil contained all the nutrients it needed, at that moment the naïve Larvitar was captured by the Pokéblock's taste and mouthfeel.

A thought flashed through Larvitar's mind—so there's something tastier than soil and rocks?

Wait—what is "world"?
It stumped itself. Its red eyes went blank. Aside from unconsciously chewing, it forgot both its swinging feet and its plan to cry.

While Lucas kept Larvitar occupied, the Sandslash couple sped up. By nearly 7 p.m., they had filled every sack Lucas bought with Mt. Silver's most nutritious soil—the main source for Larvitar to grow into Tyranitar.

By this amount, three Nacli could feast for at least half a year.

If soil had tiers, Tapu Bulu's black earth would be the golden legend for plants, and Mt. Silver's soil would be the golden legend for Rock- and Ground-type growth!

By now, Larvitar realized that although Lucas had dug up some of its soil, he'd also traded a lot of tasty stuff for it.

Even if Lucas had taken enough soil for many meals, with an entire mountain's underground as its pantry, Larvitar didn't care about such trifles. On the contrary, it grew fond of Lucas for the food.

"Larvi… Larvi~."

Larvitar tugged on Lucas's clothes with its tiny hands, newly awake brain shining with a bit more cunning and liveliness.

It was begging for more tasty treats.

"Easy, easy, I'll get you more."

Lucas smiled wryly, took his spatial backpack from the Sandslash pair, looked at the sacks packed full of soil, and thought his final objective was complete.

Thinking didn't slow his hands. He dug through the pack for a while and stacked a small mountain of boxes before Larvitar.

He might be a dirt thief, but he wouldn't ignore Larvitar's nutritional needs and just run—

At this stage, Larvitar's intake would determine its physical quality and future strength as a Tyranitar.

If the soil he took caused it to evolve malnourished—or worse, congenitally weak—Lucas would slap himself.

So he had bought Rock-, Ground-, and Dark-type Pokéblocks in Goldenrod specifically to trade for the soil.

Most trainers don't have mountains of dirt to feed a Larvitar. Pokéblocks contain enough nutrition to substitute soil for Pokémon like Larvitar—and the ones Lucas bought weren't cheap. Even the boxes were fresh-keeping and biodegradable.

Even big eaters like Munchlax and Snorlax can be sated with just a few Pokéblocks.

Lucas opened a box in front of Larvitar. With a click, it sprung open.

He took out a nicely made Pokéblock, handed it to the starry-eyed, ridiculously cute Larvitar, and reminded, "Remember how to open it?"

"Larvi! Larvi!"

Busy munching, Larvitar nodded hurriedly.

Watching it nibble like a hamster, Lucas smiled and couldn't help patting its oddly textured head.

Larvitar instinctively leaned into his palm, as if savoring the warmth.

Then Lucas tried to pick it up—

Well, it was super hard. Is this what 72 kg feels like?
Respecting Ash the super rookie, Lucas taught Larvitar a few more times how to open the box, and once sure it could do it on its own—

He stood, called the quietly cuddled-up Sandslash couple, and prepared to leave the chamber.

He had a simple reason to hurry.

Ten minutes earlier, there had still been faint tremors above, but now all was quiet. The odd stillness told Lucas something had changed up top.

"Larvi~?"

Noticing Lucas was leaving, Larvitar gazed at him pitifully, as if asking if he couldn't stay a bit longer.
Younglings always stir protective instincts—human or Pokémon, male or female.

Lucas crouched, stroked its head, and said softly, "What you need to do now is eat your fill every day, absorb the nutrients, and when the time comes, leave here and evolve into something stronger."

"If I get the chance, I'll come by and play with you."

Seeing he was set on leaving, Larvitar could only watch him and the Sandslash depart through a tunnel, which they then sealed.

The ray of light that had briefly shone into Larvitar's otherwise pitch-black childhood slowly faded as the passage to the surface was buried.

"Larvi~…"

…

As they climbed, under Lucas's direction the Sandslash pair kept packing other soil into the tunnel to block it, preventing other creatures or people from following it to Larvitar's hollow and threatening it.

When Lucas reached the surface again, the tremors from the Tyranitar couple's fight with Duraludon had ceased, and even the sandstorm had died down.

In its place stood Serperior and Dragonite, firmly suppressing the Tyranitar couple and Duraludon, facing off against a dragon legion led by a red-haired man.

The evening sky wasn't harsh on Lucas's eyes. He squinted at Lance's dragon legion, which included quite a few Flying types, and looked plainly surprised.

No way—Lance himself showed up? I only dug some Mt. Silver dirt. Okay, maybe a lot. Is that a crime?

Chapter 310: Blackthorn City—Dragon Feast!

Lance looked at Lucas, who had just crawled out of a hole, with a gaze equal parts appraising and helpless.

His tightly wrapped clothes were caked in mud—hard to believe this was Paldea's champion-tier trainer and the hero who saved the Orange Archipelago.

Behind Lucas emerged two Sandslash—yet their quills were frozen and frosted.

Alolan Sandslash?

Once the Sandslash left the hole, Lance could tell there was nothing behind them; most of the tunnel had been filled with dirt. To re-enter, one would have to dig again.

And Lucas wasn't carrying a Larvitar—something that would have made Lance's heart jump. He exhaled in relief.

At least it hadn't turned into his worst-case scenario.

Lance's gaze returned to Lucas. He met his eyes, paused a moment as if choosing his words.

"I just got here and saw your Serperior and Dragonite pinning Duraludon and the Tyranitar couple. Can you explain?"

He tried to soften his tone; colleagues like Lorelei, Agatha, and his cousin Clair often told him he naturally sounded commanding and interrogatory, making people feel like suspects under questioning.

While Tyranitar are precious, Kanto–Johto doesn't monopolize them. Trainers who enter Mt. Silver through proper procedures can catch whatever's inside.

Provided they enter properly.

Caught off guard, Lucas glanced at Serperior and Dragonite, asking with his eyes why they were restraining the Tyranitar couple and Duraludon.

Locked in a standoff with Lance's dragon legion, Serperior and Dragonite shot him a baffled look. Weren't you the one who said if the Tyranitar couple panicked and tried Earthquake, we should pin them?
So Serperior used Frenzy Plant—thick, tough, and unchewable—to hold them. Then Duraludon suddenly decided to attack Serperior, so Dragonite had to pin it too.

Understanding their eye-talk, Lucas fell silent.

Coupled with Lance—fully armed—eyeing him with a mix of scrutiny, confusion, and regret, what else could he think?
So Lance mistook him for someone who "snuck into" Mt. Silver to "poach" Tyranitar, Duraludon, and even the Tyranitar's young.

As for why Lance was there, Lucas recalled a message he'd sent to Lorelei; she probably contacted Lance in Blackthorn City, the nearest city to Mt. Silver.

A complete comedy of errors.

Lucas wanted to rub his forehead but refrained due to the mud. He looked up at Lance, shrugged, and said, "…If I say I'm just here to dig dirt, would you believe me?"

Lance: "…"

"Huh?"

After a lot of explaining—and the undeniable proof of a spatial pack bulging with sacks—Lance's worldview cracked, and he accepted that Lucas had indeed come to dig dirt.

Once he recovered, he was bewildered again.

Not even poachers—ordinary trainers who sneak into Mt. Silver do it for rare Pokémon.

By Lucas's account, he didn't even consider capturing the Larvitar he saw.

Who would believe this: a champion-tier trainer goes to great lengths to sneak into Mt. Silver, only to fight a newborn Larvitar for its food—dirt.

Absurdity has limits.

Under Lance's stare, a cleaned-up Lucas grumbled, "Don't look at me like that. I traded a ton of Pokéblocks with Larvitar fair and square!"

"…Fine. We'll let it go this time. In the future, if you want to enter Mt. Silver, go through the front door. Ordinary trainers take ten days to a few weeks for approval, but with your status, you'll be fast-tracked."

Lance emphasized this several times, then returned to Dragonite and vaulted onto its back.

"I need to deal with those poachers. I'll take my leave."

"I've already had my people submit an application for you. It should be approved by now. You can explore and catch Pokémon in Mt. Silver freely."

"Oh, and please be punctual tomorrow per the invitation time for our clan's Dragon Feast. Many Dragon-type specialists from around the world will be there. You won't be disappointed."

Reciting the clan elders' mandated pleasantries, Lance nodded at Lucas, then rode Dragonite skyward toward Indigo Plateau.

Watching Lance and Dragonite shrink to a dot, Lucas nudged his own Dragonite with his elbow. "Gut feeling—who's stronger, you or Lance's Dragonite?"

Before, Dragonite might have hemmed and hawed, admitting it was still a bit behind. Now, it thumped its chest and lifted its head.

"Drago~!" (It's stronger now, but in the future, I'll surpass it!)

Feeling his growing power, his perception of the wind, and the budding of a new move, Dragonite brimmed with confidence.

Serperior glanced sidelong at Dragonite, ruby eyes holding a faint, almost imperceptible pride and yearning.

Pride in watching the one it had practically seen grow up become this excellent.

Yearning, because one day it, too, would tell Lucas—head held high as ever—that even if it was briefly weaker than other champions' aces now, it would surpass them soon!

…

At 9 p.m., after seeing Duraludon leave the Tyranitar couple's territory and the pair resume guarding their mountain—beneath which lay their offspring—

Lucas moved on to his final Mt. Silver goal—

Reach the summit once, then confirm a few things.

…

June 30, 7 a.m.

A party of trainers freshly approved by Indigo Plateau arrived at Mt. Silver's main peak for training.

This was common. For safety, even elite trainers often formed parties to mitigate risks.

As they reached the base, an orange silhouette dove from the banner cloud perpetually wreathed around the summit, raising a gale.

It was the rare Pokémon—Dragonite.

Someone sharp-eyed pointed. "Hey, look—there's a person on its back!"

All eyes followed and, seeing the wind-and-snow-coated figure, they were stunned.

What kind of trainer can summit and still have the strength to dive straight off?

Could it be the peerless Lance?

Dragon Feast, hosted for the first time by the Dragon Clan of Blackthorn, aimed to break old patterns, connecting them with Dragon-type trainers worldwide to learn and grow together.

Upon arriving in Blackthorn, Lucas contacted the number on the invitation, confirmed the schedule, then crashed at an inn. He slept until his 3 p.m. alarm, hurriedly got ready, and boarded the clan's car.

The car threaded Blackthorn's streets toward the edge of the city.

There lay the Dragon Clan's ancestral grounds and a place famed for rare Dragon Pokémon—on par with Hoenn's Meteor Falls and Unova's Village of Dragons—the Dragon's Den.

In the car, bored, Lucas noticed a document lying quietly on his right.

The driver spoke respectfully as Lucas picked it up. "Mr. Lucas, to avoid conflicts between strangers, that lists the trainers and groups attending this evening's Dragon Feast."

"A list?"

He opened it thoughtfully and skimmed.

A moment later, he closed it, slightly surprised.

The Dragon Clan's pull was terrifying. Without the list, he wouldn't have known how many big names were coming tonight.

Besides Lance and Clair, Blackthorn's Gym Leader—

There were many he knew:

Hoenn Elite Four's Dragon master, Drake.

The heir of the Meteor Village, Zinnia.

Sinnoh Champion and archaeologist, Cynthia.

Unova's Opelucid Gym Leader Drayden and his student from the Village of Dragons, Iris.

Kalos Elite Four's Drasna, like Cynthia hailing from Celestic Town.

Hammerlocke Gym Leader's Raihan had been invited, but he declined to challenge Leon.

Paldea's dragon-tamer families also sent someone, making Lucas wonder if the Dragons sent two invitations—one via the Paldea League to Hassel, and one to the Dragon tamer clan.

Among them, aside from Cynthia whose ace is a Garchomp, and Lucas, whose main team only has Dragonite as a Dragon—

Most were Dragon specialists.

This made Lucas even more curious. Not only would many famous trainers gather—there would even be a chance to learn a special Extreme Speed technique.

"Mr. Lucas, we've arrived."

The car stopped before a grand manor, and the driver informed him.

"…Alright. Thank you."

Having attended Diantha's banquet, Lucas was used to luxury. Still, he couldn't help noting the Dragon Clan's deep pockets as a longstanding Johto house.

Though the sky hadn't fully darkened, the manor blazed with light. Many people mingled in the courtyard. Lucas recognized several faces.

"An honor to meet you, Champion Lucas."

As befit an ancient family, the reception was flawless.

No sooner had Lucas stepped out than a woman in a blue uniform and a cape down to her waist approached.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Clair, and I'll be your host today."

She matched Lucas's impression of Clair.

Clair wore her familiar outfit with a shoulder cape—eccentric to some, but a deliberate cultural signal from the Dragon Clan.

Unlike Diantha's formal dress code, the Dragon Feast respected regional differences. Traditional attire was welcome—indeed preferred.

The Dragon Clan's own culture centered on fitted uniforms and capes—Lance and Clair both loved them.

"Hello, Miss Clair."

Lucas nodded, unwilling to re-explain that Paldea's "champion-level" wasn't the same as a League Champion like Lance.

He glanced at his own simple short-sleeve and fitted pants—very plain.

Compared to Clair and Lance's strong personal styles, he suddenly felt outclassed.

After greetings, Clair led him inside.

Smiling, she said, "We didn't expect Paldea would send you. When we heard the hero who saved the Orange Archipelago would come in Hassel's stead, even our most staid elders were surprised."

Lucas couldn't say he was here to steal secret techniques, so he changed the subject. "I'm not a Dragon specialist. That won't be a problem?"

Clair looked at him oddly. "The Feast is for Dragon users to exchange experience and make friends."

"You have a Dragonite that defeated the Fire Lord—maybe not inferior to my cousin's ace. How could that be a problem?"

Her gaze burned a little.

Not romance—rather, a trainer's fervor upon seeing a worthy opponent.

Under that look, Lucas felt a faint premonition.

This Feast would surely involve battles. Clair's fighting spirit was practically spilling out.

She led him into a bustling courtyard.

A feast is a feast; the Dragon Clan would showcase Johto's culinary specialties for their far-flung guests.

Having brought him here, Clair's task was done. She said with a smile, "I'll greet other guests. Please enjoy the food, battle if you wish, or socialize. If you need anything, find me."

Lucas nodded and watched her go. Seeing steaming, fragrant dishes, his appetite surged.

He'd slept through breakfast and lunch. Now hunger made itself known.

Without hesitation, he released Dragonite—also hungry from flying—and the two dug in.

If this weren't the Dragon Feast, it would be rude to release non-Dragon Pokémon. Otherwise, he'd have let Serperior and the others taste the Dragon Clan's fine Johto cuisine.

As they ate, many turned to look at Lucas and Dragonite, thoughtful.

Though his name was on the list, seeing in person the trainer who had saved the Orange Archipelago and suppressed the three birds was still surprising.

Many considered approaching him to network.

At the edge of the venue, a smiling older woman in a brown-gray dress adorned with dragon teeth—on her chest, arms, and hair—had noticed him when Clair brought him in.

Remembering his standout showing at her colleague's banquet—and that she'd exchanged contacts with him—Drasna narrowed her eyes and said to her companion, "Miss Cynthia, excuse me a moment."

Cynthia, absorbed in Johto desserts, looked up.

Her long blonde hair framed a momentarily dazed face.

Today she wasn't in her champion's black coat, but a cooler outfit.

Cynthia glanced toward Lucas and grew pensive.

She remembered—that was the person who, at an event she had attended anonymously, made the cream gelato-flavored Pokéblocks that had astonished her, wasn't it?