Pokemon Paldea [323-324] (Patreon)

Chapter 323: The Asado Desert · Victini's Searing Shot · Raifort

As Dragonite beat its wings and guided the air currents to land steadily atop a low dune, Lucas—already suited up with wide-brimmed dust goggles, a dust mask, a sun hat, sun-protective clothing, and desert boots—swung himself down.

Except for some rock faces, most of the desert lay under direct sunlight. Without proper prep, Lucas would probably shed a layer of skin on the way back.

His luck today was decent—no run-in with the large, nasty sandstorms that occur in deserts. If one hit, he would have to hunker down in place or find cover and ride it out.

In a sandstorm, visibility plummets, and the gale-force winds make movement incredibly difficult.

If forced to halt, he would have to face the desert's extremes—scorching heat by day and a sharp temperature drop at night.

Thankfully, anticipating that progress in the Asado Desert might keep him there for several days, Lucas had brought the appropriate Pokémon to ensure the weather and temperatures wouldn't do him harm.

After recalling Dragonite, he sent out Mudsdale. It already wore a comfortable riding saddle. Ground-type Pokémon are more at home in a desert; as Mudsdale lifted its forelegs and started a slow walk, Lucas took a deep breath through the dust mask.

In that instant, he felt the dry, scorching breath of the air. His gaze fell upon the endless golden sands, each grain glittering under the slanting sun. It was as if the entire desert had been gilded.

A light breeze skimmed the surface, easily lifting a veil of sand. A distant dune shifted shape under the wind, as though the land of sand itself were breathing.

His gaze moved a bit farther. There, dust filled the sky, the ground—built of countless layers of sand—trembled faintly, as though something were charging toward them.

Then came a chorus of long, rising calls, drawing nearer.

"Mooo—"

Patting Mudsdale to pause, Lucas took a compact monocular from his pocket, squinted through it, and looked toward the sound.

A herd of robust, muscular Pokémon with black fur.

Tauros from the Paldea region.

From their tails braided into three cords, the red markings in their manes, and their sharp long horns, he judged these were Blaze Breed Tauros.

A sun-blasted desert was no stranger to Fire-types. In the games, he recalled, there were even Larvesta living somewhere in this Asado Desert.

Larvesta is the pre-evolved form of Volcarona. Among many "frail" Bug-types, it boasts top-tier potential; combined with its rarity, some even compare Larvesta to late-blooming pseudo-legendaries.

As much as he fancied the cool Volcarona's baby form, the pressing concern was the Tauros herd thundering straight toward him and Mudsdale.

They were probably directly in the herd's path.

Most trainers, facing these hot-headed brutes head-on, would avoid a clash.

By now the Tauros were very close. At their full tilt, a bulky Mudsdale couldn't possibly dodge in time.

But evasion wasn't the only option. There were many ways to halt or redirect them.

"Victini, I'll trouble you."

He glanced at his seemingly empty right shoulder, his voice muffled by the mask.

"Veee~"

A crisp chirp sounded by his ear. Victini appeared with a broad grin. Under the blazing sun, the V-shaped ear-crests on its head seemed to heat and glow red, as if on fire.

Since leaving Eindoak Town with Lucas and fighting several battles, absorbing quality victory energy, Victini's strength had leapt immensely.

Not long ago, it finally mastered its last signature move.

"Searing Shot!"

Victini rose into the air. In a blink, the sky above was swathed in scorching radiance. A blazing mass of fire, radiating terrifying heat, swelled as flames gathered around Victini, growing into a massive gold-red fireball.

Its surface spun continuously, parching the surrounding air even further.

If V-create is Victini igniting an inextinguishable Victory Flame and slamming in as a physical strike—

Then Searing Shot is a raging, ranged, high-mass attack forged from dense victory energy and Victini's limitless power, with a high chance to burn.

Victini's moves were always so over-the-top and full of presence.

Even though it climbed high, well away from Lucas, he could feel the air drying further and waves of heat licking at the skin left exposed.

The charging Tauros herd had already grown restless at the sight of the Searing Shot; their pace slowed a touch, some even seemed poised to stop.

"Mooo!"

But under the lead bull's command, they followed the herd's will, gritting it out and barreling on, refusing to change course.

True to their nature: once they start running, they don't stop unless they're exhausted or hit something. With this stubborn lead bull refusing to turn, this had become a notorious herd in the Asado Desert.

Seeing they still wouldn't veer off, Victini, without a prompt, aimed a few meters ahead of them. Manipulating the swirling air currents like a falling comet's wake, the spinning gold-red fireball slammed into the sand!

In an instant, flames roared skyward. Superheated sand exploded outward, pelting many Tauros; even Fire-type bodies yelped in pain at the scald.

Not to mention the shockwave of energy at detonation made their hearts lurch. Realizing they'd hit a hard counter, the lead bull peered past the firelight at Victini and Lucas with fear, then wheeled decisively and led the herd off in another direction.

For all their brutish tempers and swagger,

When they meet someone even tougher—Lucas and Victini—these seemingly brainless bruisers suddenly "find" their misplaced wits and choose to back down.

Watching the dust cloud rising behind their retreat, Lucas smiled, beckoned Victini back to his shoulder, and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Vii-tini!"

Victini puffed out its chest, brimming with pride.

Aside from a small, negligible drain on its mental energy, the power cost was nothing to it!

Rubbing its head, Lucas said, "Good. But when we get back, keep meditating with Oranguru to train your mental strength. Only then can you fully harness your talent."

"Ti…ni!?"

At the word "meditate," Victini wilted like a frost-bitten eggplant, despair written all over its face.

Sitting still for hours? No way!

Pouting, it turned invisible and flopped on top of Lucas's head to show its displeasure.

"…Sigh."

Lucas exhaled softly, felt Victini settle atop his head, and rode the ever-calm Mudsdale deeper into the Asado Desert.

In truth, aside from Victini's Searing Shot, Mudsdale could also have stopped the herd.

But having Mudsdale do it might have caused unwanted side effects, so Lucas took the flashier option with Victini.

As a veteran of the ranch and a student of Tapu Bulu, Mudsdale—though Tapu Bulu isn't Ground-type—had learned much of the earth under the land god's tutelage.

Mudsdale was like an unassuming hidden master; it had even mastered the Ground-type ultimate, Earthquake.

With Victini's support, an Earthquake could have triggered a localized cave-in to block the Tauros outright.

But deserts are hollow beneath in many places. Such terrain changes could, through cascading effects, stir up a major storm—something Lucas wished to avoid.

If wild Pokémon fights caused it, that was beyond his control. But where he had a choice and no life-or-death urgency, he preferred not to trigger extreme weather.

After all, many Pokémon live here, and many people explore it.

Not long after Lucas and Mudsdale left, a dark green off-road truck that moved over sand as if on a road pulled up. A woman with lead-gray long hair and sun-browned skin stepped out.

She wore gold half-rim glasses and, despite being in a desert, a blue short-sleeve top. Her desert boots pressed into still-warm sand; her outfit sported several unusual motifs.

Had Lucas been there, he would have recognized many as symbols of legendary Pokémon.

Articuno, Marshadow, Tapu Koko, Lunala…

Her name was Raifort. Behind the lenses, her eyes gleamed with intelligence. She propped her chin with one hand, surveying the scene.

At the heavy hoofprints in the sand, she smiled thoughtfully. Riding a Mudsdale through a desert—whoever it was had plenty of experience.

A moment later, she adjusted her glasses, decision made.

"Let's go find the trainer who made all that commotion!"

"Maybe they can help me get into…"

…

Traveling through the desert is dull—like sailing a vast sea of sameness.

In a sense, the desert is an ocean too—one of sand and dust.

The only things to break the monotony were occasional jutting rock mountains, and the variety of Pokémon that called the Asado Desert home.

At sunset, after a day of travel, nothing major had happened, but observing the "many faces of life" here was interesting.

A cluster of towering Stonjourner gathered, arranged in evenly spaced rings as they walked westward, sharing the view of the reddening sun with Lucas.

A group of Hippopotas and Sandile contested a dune—the sand quality and quantity were just right for digging pits big enough for them and their kin to hide from the chill of night.

Sandile needed it more. As crocodile-based Pokémon, they struggled with sudden cold and thus feared Ice-type moves even more.

The Sandile fought hard and quickly drove off the less-invested Hippopotas.

Triumphant, the Sandile chorused in delight, then sprawled on the dune, working together with short limbs to dig, burying themselves fully and slipping into an early sleep.

A stand of Cacnea and Cacturne that had stood motionless like real cacti through the day began to stir, switching from stillness to activity, ready to hunt the prey drained by the day's heat.s are Cacturne's favorite prey. They shadow exhausted hotheaded explorers and their Pokémon, trailing from afar until the targets collapse, then swarm in to seize their packs and food.

Night fell. The wind swept the barren sands. A tumbleweed rolled by, heedless of destination.

Riding steady, sure-footed Mudsdale that never stepped into hidden pits, Lucas swayed gently with its gait.

He locked eyes with a Cacturne, whose pupils rolled as it watched.

In that moment, Lucas read the greed in its eyes.

He had been marked.

Sure enough, after they passed it, the Cacturne followed from afar.

More Cacturne copied it, banding together to tail Lucas and Mudsdale.

"So… they think we're easy pickings?"

Lucas raised a brow, wondering where their confidence came from.

He was mentally and physically tired from a day on Mudsdale.

But Mudsdale still had nearly full stamina.

Mudsdale's Ability: Stamina.

In the games, it raises Defense one stage per hit; in reality, it greatly boosts endurance.

Like a desert traveler's camel, a Stamina Mudsdale is a perpetual motion machine in the sands. With enough food and water, it can go a week.

"If they dare target a still-fresh Mudsdale, I guess the pack gave them courage."

After thinking it over, Lucas decided to ignore them for now.

Once they sensed his side could crush them, they'd give up. Dark-types are nothing if not cunning.

The priority was to find a good campsite.

First, don't camp under exposed, crumbly rock or sparse vegetation—no one wants a random rock falling on their head in their sleep.

Guided by his system, he chose the base of a smooth rock wall: it would block the night wind, and above, there was nothing likely to fall.

And a wall at your back always brings a measure of comfort.

Lucas had pitched camp countless times. In his wild grind days, he often skipped going back to town, returning only when he needed supplies.

He'd perfected one-man tent-craft, able to put up a large wind-, sand-, sun-, and rain-proof tent in minutes.

Pokémon-world tech is a bit skewed, but space gear is a godsend for travelers.

If he'd carried heavy packs today, both he and Mudsdale would be more worn out.

For him and Mudsdale it wasn't a huge difference—just saved effort.

But for average trainers and explorers, space backpacks are like divine artifacts, vastly improving range and time.

With the tent up, groundsheet and sleeping bag laid, Lucas took some dry firewood from his pack and stacked it.

"Victini, lend a—"

He glanced at his seemingly empty right shoulder, started to speak, then stopped—making Victini, about to show itself, blink in confusion.

After a suspicious pause, recalling Victini's terrible fine-control of move output, Lucas shelved the idea.

He worried that asking for a Spark would turn into a fireball and an accidental bonfire of the camp.

"Dragonite, lend me a flame."

In the end, he called Dragonite.

Just as Pikachu's Thunderbolt can become 0.0001 of its power, Dragonite's Flamethrower can become a gentle puff.

Pokémon can modulate their move output; they aren't stuck at fixed power.

Dragonite blew out a perfectly measured spray of sparks, and the campfire caught—humanity's ancient light, bringing warmth, pushing back the dark, cold, and beasts.

Lying on Dragonite's soft belly, Lucas munched on a sandwich he'd prepped in his space pack, gazing into the distance.

"Huh?"

Swallowing the last bite, he stood under Dragonite's puzzled, dopey gaze and looked back.

At some point, the Cacturne had vanished.

Gave up?
He thought it over. The area had clear sightlines; unlike Ground-types, they couldn't burrow for an ambush.

They must have given up… but the fact they left before he released Dragonite puzzled him.

No matter. Even if they lurked, his Pokémon would stand guard in shifts; Cacturne wouldn't get a chance to strike.

He sipped water, then took a stiff-bristled brush from his pack and went to Mudsdale to groom it after a long day.

Mudsdale liked the stiff brush more than the soft. As Lucas brushed, it half-closed its eyes and hummed contentedly, rabbit-long ears twitching—utterly at ease.

In this perilous desert, such leisure was odd.

A passerby might think he was out for a picnic.

At that peaceful moment, a heavy engine rumble broke the quiet. Lucas, already drowsy, looked up in surprise.

Another trainer or explorer?
He forced himself alert, eyes on a large, dark green off-road truck whose trajectory aimed straight for his camp.

Looking for supplies? Company?
Or…
His mind spun through possibilities. When the huge tires braked and the driver and a gray-furred bipedal Pokémon with a deep red crest stepped out, the answer was clear.

"Miss Raifort?"

"Huh? Isn't this the hero who saved the Orange Archipelago—Director Lucas?"

"…Please don't call me Director…"

Chapter 324: The Four Treasures of Ruin

Lucas looked helplessly at Raifort—dressed most impractically for the Asado Desert—and the gray fox at her side.

Zoroark…
Not a legendary, yet with its own feature film—peak clout for a rare Pokémon.

Zoroark is cool, but if Lucas had to pick, he'd go for the smaller Zorua, or the Hisuian shiny Zorua.

Two balls of fluff—hugging them would be therapy.

"Miss Raifort, what brings you here?"

As he asked, he searched his memory.

He recalled Raifort being one of the new hires the Academy brought on after the clean-up operation, a history instructor versed in ancient scripts, deeply curious about old legends.

He'd crossed paths with her a few times, mostly with her seeking him out.

She wanted to learn about the legend of Shamouti Island from Lucas. As someone who had confronted the Fire, Thunder, and Ice Gods and fought alongside the Sea Guardian, he must know details the TV never aired.

Unfortunately, he hadn't followed the "normal" route; delivery runs were handled by Ash, Professor Oak, and Lugia. Lucas just fought and had fun.

And his memory of the movie's Shamouti legend had faded—he only remembered the three birds and Lugia being tied to global climate.

Ask Ash and he might know more than Lucas.

After a few tries, Raifort realized she wouldn't pry any exclusives from him and stopped pressing.

Apparently remembering their prior talks, Raifort showed no embarrassment. She shrugged, even a little aggrieved: "I helped chase off that pack of Cacturne tailing you and came excited for praise, and you greet me so coldly—how heartbreaking~"

"…So that was you," Lucas sighed, glancing at her Zoroark. Likely this Zoroark, with Dark resisting Dark, scattered the Cacturne—impressive strength. "You know they weren't a threat to me."

"I appreciate the thought."

"So, what's the real aim behind buttering me up? You only realized who I was when you stepped out of the truck, right?"

"So sharp—working with smart people is a joy." Surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced with a smile. "Yes, I had my eye on 'your' strength and didn't expect to hit the jackpot."

Being colleagues, she didn't bother to hide it.

She briefly explained how she'd seen someone use a Fire-type move to cow the rampaging Tauros, judged the trainer strong, then tracked him by Mudsdale's prints to observe, finally choosing to use the Cacturne to make contact.

She hadn't expected that trainer to be an acquaintance.

"…You shadowed me all day without even knowing who I was? Where's your monocular?"

Lucas was speechless for a beat. Wasn't she supposed to be meticulous, given her… former line of work?

"I lost it. It's not easy to find a strong hand out here. To be honest, I've been wandering the Asado Desert for days."

She looked past Lucas to Mudsdale resting by the fire and to Dragonite.

So that Fire-type move was likely Dragonite's—reasonable for the dragon that beat the Fire God.

"Sit by the fire. We can talk."

As colleagues, Lucas invited her to warm up—she'd likely been driving for over a dozen hours.

Indeed, her eyes stung with fatigue, and her body cried out for rest.

"Thanks."

With Zoroark's support, Raifort sat by the fire, leaning against the dependable gray fox.

She didn't forget her goal, forcing herself to speak—only to be "silenced" by a warm sandwich from Lucas.

"Eat. I'm tired too, so no cooking tonight."

"…Thank you."

She split it in half for Zoroark and nibbled.

The fillings were generous, the bread still soft—delicious, and a luxury in this desert.

Not everyone can afford space gear, let alone carry a full cooking set like Lucas, even if he skipped it today out of fatigue.

One might think they were picnicking, not exploring.

When they'd about finished, Lucas handed them an unopened bottle of water.

Raifort took it, let the recently-battled Zoroark drink first, then finished the rest herself.

Her throat soothed, she smiled. "You didn't have to. I've got water and rations in the trunk."

"Consider it thanks for 'helping' with the Cacturne?"

He leaned on the word helping.

Raifort covered her mouth, helpless. "Can't do that. It would ruin my plan—how else could I invite you to help me?"

After her words, silence hung in the air. After a while, Lucas spoke.

"What do you need a powerful trainer for?"

"Your Zoroark beat a big pack of Cacturne even with poor offensive typing—that's not weak."

Zoroark's ears twitched at the praise, and it sat up straighter.

"Not enough for those foes," Raifort shook her head, meeting his eyes. "I want your help investigating a ruin buried under this desert—guarded by powerful Pokémon. Zoroark and I can't break through."

Lucas frowned slightly. "A ruin… what ruin?"

He thought of the treasure rumor that had fueled the Asado Desert's gold rush—the last Paldean emperor's hoard.

Did Raifort buy into that and come treasure-hunting?
"Uh… do I have to say?"

She looked awkward—she didn't want to reveal her previous activities.

But Lucas's firm stance told her that saying nothing meant no help. She sighed, put her palms together. "Please don't tell the other staff."

"I'm investigating a Paldean Imperial legend: a merchant selling four treasures to the king."

"I can't confirm it yet. But under this desert lies the tomb of an official who witnessed the transaction. His journal might hold clues to test my hypothesis."

"But he held high office, and ancient tombs typically used Golurk as guardians. Based on my experience, that tomb's Golurk will be exceptionally strong."

"That's strength I can't match as a half-desk scholar. So I came to you."

Lucas: "…You're awfully familiar with the process. Were you a tomb raider?"

Raifort grinned. "Don't say that. It's not 'raiding,' it's contributing to archaeology—entering ancient ruins and tombs when necessary for research."

"You know, I've gone straight now. No more of that."

"Besides, I have a Paldea League archaeology license. I'm a bona fide archaeologist."

Seeing his reluctance at "tomb raiding," she pressed on: "All I need is for you to suppress the Golurk. I'll handle the traps. Aside from journals for historical study, I won't take any valuables."

"And I'll pay you. How about it?"

He knew she was investigating the Four Treasures of Ruin—a key side quest in the games.

It was a sincere offer, but…

"I have my own matters to attend to. I'm afraid I can't accept."

Before she could fully look disappointed, he added, "However, if you can wait one day, I can come take a look. Honestly, I'm interested in ancient history too."

"As for payment—forget it. Best not to tie this to money."

"So, specifically, where is your target?"

The whiplash made Raifort's heart nearly leap out of her chest.

Luckily, he agreed—just needed a day. There was still time before summer ended. She could wait.

She nodded, stopped petting Zoroark, picked up a twig, and sketched in the sand.

"We're going here—the leaning watchtower at the center of the Asado Desert."