Feng Che remained anchored within Alder's private administrative suite for an extensive duration, his analytical tracks running deep.
Ultimately, he compiled Alder's personal diary alongside the ancient weathered parchment map. Drafting a detailed, comprehensive report that delineated the exact timeline and forensic causes driving the former Champion's abrupt psychological collapse, he routed the documents via the League's maximum-priority express courier channel, targeted straight to the Supreme Leader of the International High Command.
I can only pray the Supreme Leader initiates immediate tactical counter-measures upon reviewing these files, Feng Che thought, letting out a long, slow sigh.
As his personal power metrics continued to scale, he increasingly flagged that certain deep underground anomalies were fracturing out of generic control variables.
Just what system-level threat was the International High Command desperately bleeding its resources to contain?
According to highly classified intelligence indices, the current Supreme Leader was fundamentally not the first Master-tier Trainer stabilized under the global League's training programs. Every single master proxy who successfully crossed the threshold into the Master tier was immediately reassigned to oversee an absolute, top-secret dark assignment.
Yet, as to the precise data governing that black operation, Feng Che's databases remained completely blind.
No matter. My own progress timeline requires a brief sequence before my line can comfortably force a full breakthrough into the permanent Master tier. Scaling a partner's metrics past the Master threshold demands exceptional geological resonance and peerless blue potential data.
My absolute vanguard assets have already flawlessly integrated the legacy code lines of true Legendary deities, meaning their evolutionary lanes are completely unblocked. My shadow empire merely lacks the high-grade elemental resources required to over-clock their current limits.
Feng Che casually spun his pen between his fingers.
Excluding the ancient ruin layout I am scheduled to audit alongside Caitlin's division within the week, my forecasting models flag that multiple Secret Relic Zones are on the absolute threshold of their alignment cycles.
A Secret Relic Zone... an environment infinitely more volatile, warped, and dangerous than standard archeological ruins.
Swiveling his master chair toward the grand glass windows, he tracked the brilliant, cold moonlight bathing the citadel.
This specific world structure operated primarily as a highly integrated, composite matrix heavily anchored to the historical lore of the ancient Pokémon Adventures manga timelines. Feng Che calculated that the baseline reality of this dimension had been forcefully spliced and fused with the dimensional remnants of various collapsed parallel worlds.
Subjected to this macro-scale dimensional collision, dozens of highly localized Secret Relic Zones had spontaneously opened across the geography. These hidden spatial pockets housed exceptionally ancient, uncatalogued Pokémon variants alongside high-purity elemental resources that standardly logged a near-zero distribution matrix across the regular world.
An absolute majority—over eighty percent—of these premium Secret Relic Zones were strictly locked down and harvested under the sovereign hand of the International High Command.
Operating as a supreme global monitoring apparatus, their core executive law dictated that no single monolithic faction or regional syndicate would ever be authorized to establish absolute, unified control over an entire continent. The exact millisecond an underworld organization exhibited the capacity to force a region into unification, the High Command would immediately dispatch a supreme strike team of Champion-tier masters to systematically vaporize that entity from the timeline.
Feng Che had index-parsed the ruthless, absolute methodologies of the High Command long before his soul had transitioned into this plane.
My calculus mandates that I must aggressively optimize my shadow layouts beneath their tracking arrays.
The People of the Vale, the Dragon Clan, and Team Plasma must be directed to systematically stage severe internal conflicts and territorial skirmishes on the public stage.
The analytical arrays of the High Command lack the data to detect the presence of my Psychic Tracking Marks.
The marks had been personally executed under Mewtwo's hand. As the absolute, undisputed peak of all Psychic-type existence across the global order, tracking its mental tracking code required a telepath who comfortably out-scaled Mewtwo's own sovereign parameters—an absolute statistical impossibility across the current era.
Across this upcoming window, my core assignment remains entirely unmoored: I must capture every single drop of available resource to over-clock my personal combat caliber, Feng Che resolved internally.
Meanwhile, within the absolute inner sanctum of the International High Command's central citadel, Julie moved with rapid, high-priority bounds through the corridors, clutching a classified intelligence file as she breached the Supreme Leader's master office.
"Julie... report your telemetry. Have your tracking arrays flagged a single shred of direct alignment tying Feng Che's line to the infrastructure of the People of the Vale?" the Supreme Leader's ancient, gravelly voice echoed across the room.
"Zero structural alignment, Supreme Leader. Following an exhaustive audit of our forensic logs, the transfer vector was executed solely under Damon's independent parameters. He piloted the mechanical grid of the Sword of the Vale to complete the Dragon Pulse relocation entirely on his own initiative."
"The castle's unmooring loop was a complete anomaly; our tracking indicates Victini merely stumbled into the central technological control hub during a play phase, inadvertently firing up the power lines," Julie briefed smoothly, presenting the pre-filtered data blocks.
"This data verifies that Damon engineered the telluric realignment strictly to serve his own legacy."
"Furthermore, Julie... that specific spatial gate has sustained another severe containment breach. Massive fleets of wild anomalies are violently bursting through the threshold," the Supreme Leader muttered, heavily massaging his temples as acute cognitive fatigue buckled his composure.
"A secondary Pokémon Cataclysm has opened?!"
"Just what scale of Champion-tier reinforcements must my department allocate to anchor the lane? If this constant bleed remains unchecked, our global vanguard pools will face a catastrophic tactical bottleneck."
"The exact millisecond a secondary major disruption breaks containment elsewhere across the continent, our High Command will hold near-zero reserve assets to deploy as a safety shield." Julie unmasked the grim reality of their logistics grid.
"We possess zero alternative options," the Supreme Leader sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.
"My hand has already authorized the immediate deployment of three sovereign Champion-tier operators to reinforce the line. Should a localized disruption open within the civilian sectors, let the respective regional Champions burn their own parameters to manage the chaos."
"Sustaining a localized burn tracks as infinitely superior to watching the global order dissolve into absolute, permanent ruin."
"If the containment dynamics within that sector decay further, I calculate that my own physical vessel will be forced to vacate this citadel to anchor the forward trench."
"The moment those ancient anomalies successfully break past our frontline layout, the entire global ecosystem will sustain terminal, irreversible degradation." The Supreme Leader stared out the window into the deep velvet sky, his mind completely overwhelmed by the crushing macro-variables.
"Understood. Shall my department maintain the pre-scheduled deployment grids to harvest the upcoming Secret Relic Zones across this phase?"
"The harvesting windows for those premium material resource blocks have hit their absolute peak; if our syndicates fail to clear the sectors now, the spatial locks will re-engage, sealing the resource matrices away for over a decade," Julie noted warily.
"Authorize the deployments. The allocation slots have long since been hard-coded into our databases; if my office attempts a temporary freeze on those parameters, those arrogant little brats anchoring our vanguard lines will initiate an absolute mutiny," the leader chuckled drily.
"We command a brief two-month window. Coordinate the logistics; if a single additional operator can successfully over-clock their parameters to stabilize a breakthrough into the Master tier across this phase, the administrative weight crushing my shoulders will drop significantly."
"At the very worst, by the hour my vessel must permanently entrench itself within that dark sector... my desk will at least hold a verified successor line." The ancient master let out a long, trailing sigh.
The following morning, within the colossal central amphitheater of the Unova League, Feng Che cleared the gateway to stand across the battlefield. His gaze locked onto Trip, who was casually capturing real-time visual logs of the stadium using a high-end camera.
"So you stand as the proxy who successfully broke Champion Alder's line?" Trip remarked, his tone dripping with an arrogant, unvarnished condescension as he lowered his lens.
"If my partners systematically dismantle your roster across this exhibition, it will serve as the absolute, definitive proof that my caliber out-scales Alder's entire legacy."
Trip stood as a manic, borderline fanatical devotee of Alder's old combat styles; his entire internal drive was completely consumed by a lifelong ambition to override the former Champion in a direct frontal press.
"Since your calculus dictates a timeline of that caliber, step into the lane and permit my line to audit your parameters," Feng Che countered flatly.
"Unseal the vanguard, Serperior!" Trip roared.
Trip deployed the absolute pinnacle of his active military line—a Serperior whose baseline metrics comfortably anchored the entry tier of the Master rank.
Serperior flaunted an exceptionally long, serpentine chassis wreathed in a sleek, pastel-green hide. Diverging sharply from its pre-evolved tresses, it lacked any form of functional hind limbs, its forelimbs having systematically regressed into simple, leaf-like appendages flanking its collar, balanced by three deep-emerald leaves coiling near the absolute tip of its long tail.
Intricate, golden royal glyph patterns were printed across its spine, projecting an aura of immense imperial majesty. The twin leaf-vines uncurling from its neck seamlessly mirrored the sharp lines of a high-end tuxedo collar and cuffs.
Its piercing eyes burned a sharp, brilliant shade of crimson, its regal gaze carrying an innate psychological intimidation factor capable of locking an unconditioned target into a state of total, acute paralysis by a single stare. Its internal core held the unique biological capacity to smoothly compress and store solar mass within its cell lines.
"Clear the clearing, ancient Beedrill."
Feng Che casually flicked his wrist to launch a common capsule, smoothly deploying his ancient Beedrill onto the field. Juxtaposed against standard species profiles, this ancient Poison Bee Pokémon's chassis had grown noticebly more robust, rugged, and heavily armored.
"This Beedrill's structural geometry is exceptionally crude, feral, and violent... my tracking arrays are flagging an unaccountable trace of deep, instinctual unease. Tell me—does this asset anchor the ancient lineage files of its species?" Trip asked, his focus snapping online as he raised his camera to capture multiple high-velocity digital exposures of the bee.
"Your tracking is precise. This partner was painstakingly cultivated under my personal training loops; its baseline combat parameters are... reasonably adequate," Feng Che answered with a calm indifference.
The ancient Beedrill's twin arm-lances were colossally thick and heavily reinforced, its wings—thin and light as a cicada's plumage—becoming completely translucent under the glare of the morning sun. Its travel velocity was monumentally immense; within a single micro-second of stabilizing its stance, its physical silhouette completely vanished from generic visual tracking.