Eon strode down to the first floor, smoothly navigating the crowd until he reached the designated broadcast zone. Spotting the host—who was currently pacing back and forth, looking thoroughly frantic as he scanned the gallery—Eon walked right up to him.
The host's face lit up with immediate relief, and he lunged forward to shake Eon's hand. "Thank you so much for stepping in on such short notice! I'm sure you were incredibly busy upstairs."
"It's fine," Eon replied, his voice characteristically detached. "My remaining tasks were minimal, and I've already delegated them to a colleague. It's not an issue."
Eon adjusted his cuffs. "So, what exactly is my role here?"
"We'll just ask you a few conceptual questions regarding Dr. Miles' masterpieces. It'll be a quick, streamlined segment," the host explained. He glanced down at his watch, which now read **19:45**. "Perfect. We have exactly 15 minutes before the doors open to the general public. It's time to go live."
The host turned back to Eon, his expression hardening into professional focus. "Are you ready?"
Eon calmly straightened his jacket, gave a crisp thumbs-up, and stated, "Ready."
The host signaled the cameraman with a sharp nod. The red recording light flickered to life, and the live broadcast commenced.
"Good evening, viewers! We must begin tonight's segment with a brief apology: unfortunately, the brilliant Dr. Miles is currently locked away in his laboratory handling an urgent research breakthrough and cannot join us on the floor. However, we are incredibly fortunate to be joined by one of his core research assistants and premier artistic collaborators—Mr. Eon!"
The reporter dynamically thrust the microphone toward Eon. "Tell us, Mr. Eon, what is your personal perspective on Dr. Miles' overarching body of work?"
"To be completely frank, having collaborated with him over an extended period," Eon began, staring directly into the lens, "Dr. Miles does not view his canvases merely as art. They are structured documents of his expectations, raw field experiments, and empirical tests of visual modeling."
"Fascinating! It's clear you possess an intimate knowledge of his creative process," the reporter beamed. "Would you mind walking our viewers through some of the specific pieces featured tonight?"
"Not at all. I will explain them to the best of my knowledge," Eon replied.
They moved in tandem toward the first major display.
"Let's start here," the host said, gesturing toward a massive, striking canvas.
The painting depicted a dramatic lunar eclipse casting an eerie, deep-red glow over a chaotic battlefield. A massive Bloodmoon Ursaluna was locked in brutal combat with a ferocious Nidoking, while a Zoroark, a Hisuian Zoroark, and an Umbreon darted through the shadows alongside a stampede of other wild Pokémon.
"What can you tell us about the composition of this piece, Mr. Eon?"
Eon analyzed the brushwork for a fraction of a second. "This piece is titled *Crimson Moon*. He conceptualized it during a wilderness research expedition inside the Lunatic City Wild Area. As you can see, it was executed using an intensive multi-layering technique. Dr. Miles painted every single moving component as an isolated asset."
The host and the cameraman leaned in closer to the canvas. Under the studio lights, they could see distinct, physical depth within the paint. Oddly, despite the complex overlapping, the colors remained perfectly crisp without a single bleed. The deep crimson near the eclipse looked completely separated from the faded, translucent gradients of the foreground.
"The layering is remarkable," the reporter noted, squinting at the texture. "But how did he prevent the pigments from blending? And why is the structural thickness so uneven across the canvas?"
"Because he fully cured each individual layer before applying the next payload of pigment," Eon explained thoroughly.
The host blinked. "But... isn't that just a fundamental painting technique?"
"Initially, I shared that exact assumption," Eon countered smoothly. "But the execution is far more complex than standard methodology. He utilized incompatible mediums. He applied a heavy oil paint as the primary, high-contrast base layer. Once that was completely dried, he overlaid thin, water-based pigments, cured them, and repeated the cycle continuously."
The host looked skeptical. "Is that really all it takes? If it's that straightforward, why did the completion timeline stretch across a full three years?"
"Because he mapped out the layers asset by asset," Eon pointed to specific coordinates on the canvas. "Look closely at the Ursaluna's eyes. The focal iris, the ambient ocular shadow, and the reflected light source are all anchored on completely separate layers. The same logic applies to every single Pokémon and background asset in the frame."
"Incredible... a three-year timeline makes perfect sense when you factor in that level of microscopic detail," the host murmured, thoroughly impressed. He turned back to the microphone. "And where did Dr. Miles draw the core inspiration for this encounter? You mentioned his art acts as field documentation."
"Correct. He captured this scene directly from his field logs," Eon stated. "During a midnight celestial event, a localized eclipse triggered an acute spike in aggression among the native wildlife. The Bloodmoon Ursaluna and the surrounding Lunar-affinity Pokémon exhibited a profound physiological reaction to the cosmic radiation."
Eon paused, clearing his throat.
"Furthermore, the project shouldn't have required three years of active labor. The timeline was heavily delayed because Dr. Miles frequently abandoned the canvas to prioritize high-level scientific expeditions, leaving the piece locked in storage for months at a time."
"I'm amazed you're privy to such intimate operational details," the reporter remarked.
Eon offered a deadpan shrug. "As I stated, I am a registered collaborator. It would be an anomaly if I didn't know."
They moved to the adjacent display, which featured a starkly different, highly serene composition. The canvas depicted a crystalline lake where dozens of Paldean Wooper and Clodsire were lounging lazily alongside a Ludicolo and a Whiscash. In the background, a Gyarados and a Magikarp breached the water's surface near a pair of dozing Slowpoke and Slowbro.
"And what about this piece?" the host inquired.
"This is *Summertime*," Eon answered. "It documents a marine expedition to a remote, isolated island landmass—if memory serves, it was charted within the Hoenn region."
"Ah, the Hoenn region! That perfectly explains why the ecosystem features a blend of Kanto, Johto, and native Hoenn species," the host analyzed.
"In terms of operational efficiency, this is one of Dr. Miles' fastest completed works," Eon added.
The host raised an eyebrow. "Fastest? What was the benchmark?"
"The entire piece was rendered in a single month," Eon explained. "It represents Dr. Miles' third official canvas, painted during his youth before he achieved his tenure as a senior researcher."
The host leaned in to inspect the brushwork. "Ah, that explains the rapid completion. A product of his early career."
"If you examine the linework closely, this piece marks a critical evolutionary transition in his artistic style," Eon pointed out, mapping the vectors with his finger. "The composition is structurally simplistic compared to his later works. He utilized a softer, semi-cartoonish aesthetic here. The layer count is substantially lower than *Crimson Moon*, and the atmospheric tension is completely dialed back. However, the narrative composition remains exceptional due to its relaxed execution."
Eon began highlighting specific assets. "You can see a Lotad sleeping soundly on the Ludicolo's head, a Magikarp breaching mid-leap, a stack of Wooper and Clodsire piled on top of each other, and a Slowking soaking along the shallows. Even the aerial assets—the Wingull and Pelipper—are rendered with incredibly fluid, soft lines."
The host furrowed his brow, spotting a geographical discrepancy. "Wait a moment... Lotad, Ludicolo, and the Clodsire evolutionary line are strictly freshwater anomalies. If this is a landlocked lake, why are oceanic species like Wingull patrolling the airspace?"
"The setting is indeed a freshwater lake," Eon clarified calmly. "But as I mentioned, the lake is situated in the center of an isolated island in the middle of the Hoenn ocean. The geographical proximity makes it common for pelagic species to cross into the local airspace for foraging."
Meanwhile, near the secondary entrance of the museum grounds, Eri, Z, and Kanna were waiting in the queue for the security gates to drop.
"Are you seriously still streaming that broadcast?" Z asked, glancing over at Eri's Rotom Dex, which was currently projecting the live feed of *The Miracle of Art*.
Eri turned to him, flashing a bright, innocent smile as she nodded quickly. "Of course I am! I want to become an elite master painter one day." Her smile quickly faltered into a pout. "But it's such a shame Dr. Miles didn't show up. Now I won't be able to secure his autograph for my collection."
"I thought your entire goal was to become an arch-mage, but now you're adding fine art to the list? Your ambition is completely unpredictable," Z muttered, shaking his head. He then shifted his gaze toward Kanna, who was intensely scouting the security perimeters, her mind clearly running through a dozen threat scenarios.
"Well, look on the bright side, Eri," Z sighed, jerking a thumb at Kanna. "At least you aren't completely consumed by clinical paranoia like she is."
Kanna snapped her head back, her sharp orange eyes glaring at him. "What did you just say? I am *not* paranoid. In a high-risk operational environment, the worst-case scenario is the only statistical certainty. Do you even comprehend the fundamental difference between tactical anticipation and paranoia, you slacker?"
"And that exact mindset is why your entire life plays out like a psychological thriller," Z countered dryly.
Eri looked between the two of them, her eyes wide with naive curiosity. "You know... I think you two actually make a really compatible couple."
A physical shiver ran down both Z and Kanna's spines at the exact same moment. They recoiled instantly, shouting in unison:
"NOT IN A MILLION YEARS!"
"Who in their right mind would want to be associated with a girl like her?" Z hissed, crossing his arms. "Her baseline aesthetic makes her look like a wandering banshee."
"And who would ever willingly endure the company of a shut-in who literally refuses to leave his room unless forced by mandatory academy hours?" Kanna shot back, taking a menacing step forward.
"Hey, that's called strategic energy conservation! It's perfectly normal," Z argued, stepping back slightly.
"Oh, please. You just spend your entire existence wasting cognitive bandwidth on video games, streaming media, and anime," Kanna sneered, closing the distance between them.
Z opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. The absolute, unyielding accuracy of her strike left him completely defenseless. *Damn it, she read me perfectly...* he thought, his inner consciousness weeping. *I mean, she's not wrong. My post-school social infrastructure is non-existent.*
"Furthermore," Kanna continued, pressing her advantage as her eyes flashed, "your baseline peer network is virtually zero.
You've made zero effort to establish new social connections or integrate into campus communities. The only reason you even registered for this specific club was because your lazy brain assumed it would require minimal physical labor."
The words pierced through Z's pride like a volley of high-tier psychic arrows. *If I knew I'd be locked into a division with a human lie detector like you, I would have happily joined the musical club instead,* he screamed internally.
"The musical club?" Kanna scoffed, her tone dripping with condescension. "Please, as if you possess the manual dexterity to handle a musical instrument."
The two immediately descended back into a rapid-fire, chaotic argument.
Eri let out a soft, weary sigh as she watched the sparks fly between her teammates. "I really hope they can find common ground one day," she murmured to herself.
Reaching into her inventory box, Eri pulled out a sleek, purple-and-black Dusk Ball. She pressed the release mechanism, and a burst of dark energy materialized into the air.
"Misma... gius!" the Magical Pokémon chanted, hovering gracefully beside her.
"Alright, Mismagius," Eri smiled warmly, adjusting her witch's hat. "Let's go secure our spot in the primary admission queue."
With a cheerful skip, Eri and her Pokémon walked toward the main gates, leaving the echo of Z and Kanna's relentless bickering far behind them in the twilight.