He looked covetously at the tiny creature in Charizard's hand.
Gym-level potential; this meant that with just a little training, it could possess Gym-level strength!
This kind of Pokémon was the partner that countless Trainers stuck at a bottleneck, like him, dreamed of.
Unfortunately, it wasn't his.
He understood very well the difference between a single full meal and being full every meal.
He would never dare to take this Pokémon for himself.
A high-ranking official of the League possessed no small amount of power.
By following Boss Sen, he could enjoy endless wealth and glory; it would be the stupidest thing in the world to throw away his future for a single Pokémon.
Sen glanced over and nodded with satisfaction.
He didn't reach out to take it, but instead pulled out an empty Poké Ball and aimed it at the Froakie.
With a flash of red light, the tiny body was instantly sucked inside.
The Poké Ball shook a few times on the ground before becoming completely still.
"Misato, here."
Sen handed the Poké Ball to his daughter, the smile on his face as gentle as that of a loving father.
"Wow! I caught a Froakie!"
Misato excitedly took the Poké Ball and held it in her arms, nuzzling it with her cheek, unable to put it down.
"Daddy, will it be scared inside?"
"It won't be," Sen explained patiently. "It will soon learn that following us is its best destination."
He waved his hand and gave the final command to his three subordinates:
"Be quick about it, leave none behind, and then get out of here."
"Yes, Boss!"
...Meanwhile, outside the cave entrance.
Cold stream water flowed past its side; the surroundings were quiet and slippery.
In Froakie's world, nothing remained but the shrill, agonizing screams of its clansmen, cry after intermittent cry piercing its ears.
It was held inside Whiscash's mouth.
Immense fear and anger made it struggle desperately, pounding the slippery inner walls of the mouth with its tiny fists, but that cage-like maw didn't budge an inch.
Froakie could only observe the tragic state of its clansmen through a tiny sliver of a gap in Whiscash's mouth.
Greninja's final roar, a bellow full of determination and resentment, was the last sound it heard from its leader.
Afterward, everything went quiet.
A deathly silence.
Whiscash could clearly sense that the powerful aura inside the cave was moving away.
Within its dull fish eyes, a hint of complex emotion flickered—sadness, but also helplessness.
As an old resident of these waters, it was a neighbor and even a friend to that Greninja.
It couldn't help it; it didn't even have the courage to approach.
The only thing it could do was preserve this last bit of its old friend's bloodline.
Waiting until the footsteps and auras of that group had completely vanished in the distance, Whiscash slowly surfaced and opened its massive mouth.
*Puh.*
Froakie, along with a mouthful of river water, was spat onto the muddy bank.
It didn't even have time to catch its breath before it scrambled to its feet and charged like mad toward that dark cave entrance.
Watching its stumbling yet resolute figure, Whiscash lingered on the surface for a moment before finally swishing its massive tail; a circle of ripples spread as it sank to the bottom and disappeared.
And all of this was witnessed by Ariel, hidden in the shadow of a large tree not far away.
He had watched this uneven battle from beginning to end.
From Greninja's desperate protection to the cold-blooded efficiency of Sen's group, and then to the dialogue of the little girl where innocence and cruelty coexisted.
"Tsk tsk, the whole clan wiped out in one go. Truly tragic."
Ariel leaned against the tree trunk with his arms crossed; his tone held no sympathy, sounding more like he was critiquing a play that had nothing to do with him.
He hadn't made a move.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, but that he couldn't.
The opposition had nine Pokémon in total; even the lowest level was close to level 40, and that Hitmonchan was as high as level 45, with seamless coordination.
He only had a level 29 Scraggy on hand; if he rushed out, the most likely outcome would be joining that Greninja in death.
Ariel was never someone who would let hot-bloodedness cloud his judgment.
His gaze fell upon the tiny figure rushing into the cave.
Inside the cave, Froakie's footsteps suddenly stopped.
A familiar scent washed over it—the smell of home, the smell of its clansmen.
But now, this scent was mixed with a pungent burnt smell and the stench of blood.
On the rock walls, hideous, charred marks recorded the desperate resistance from not long ago.
The ground was pitted and scattered with a few broken, green Leaf Blades that had long since lost their luster.
Its gaze finally fixed on a section of the wall deep within the cave.
There was a pool of dark red blood that hadn't yet dried; it was the exact spot where its father, the leader of the clan, had been sent flying and slammed into after being hit by Hitmonchan.
In the air, the faint, lingering scent of its father seemed to remain.
Froakie's tiny body began to tremble; it walked over slowly and reached out a small hand to gently touch the cold rock.
There was nothing.
No warm embrace, no stern teachings, no figure to train with.
The cave was empty; aside from itself, there wasn't a single living member of its kind.
An uncontrollable surge of grief and despair, like a flood breaking through a dam, instantly submerged it.
"Froak..."
A broken cry of mournful pain squeezed out of its throat.
It collapsed to its knees, its tiny body curled into a ball, striking its head against the ground over and over with muffled thuds.
Tears mixed with dirt, smearing its tiny face.
Watching this scene, Ariel's eyes flickered slightly.
He knew very well how difficult it was to forcibly tame a proud Pokémon.
Especially a survivor like this, who had experienced the destruction of its clan and was filled with hatred; it would be even more unyielding.
Using force to make it submit might gain its body, but he would never gain its heart.
But now... in Ariel's mind, a plan was gradually taking shape.
He looked at the Froakie letting out despairing cries in the cave; the negligible bit of pity in his heart was quickly replaced by a much more enticing idea.
He didn't need to Role Play as a savior.
He didn't need to use a Poké Ball to forcibly conquer it.
Hatred.
This was one of the most powerful driving forces in the world.
As long as he could provide it with a hope for revenge, a blade for vengeance, it would follow him willingly and become his sharpest, most loyal weapon.
As for Sen and his group.
They not only had League identities but also acted ruthlessly and with immense ambition.
He would certainly have to deal with such people in the future.
As for Froakie's future revenge, in order to make it work for him with utter devotion, Ariel would definitely arrange it.
And the Froakie before him was the best catalyst and future assistance.
Ariel's mind was made up.
He no longer hid; he straightened his clothes and stepped out from the shadows behind the tree, walking at a steady pace toward the cave entrance where the creature was still immersed in grief.
Now, he would not approach with the posture of a conqueror.
But rather, with the identity of... a guide.
What he needed to do was pour the gasoline called hope onto this seed of hatred, and then hand it a match.
-=-=-=-=-=-
50 power stones for extra chapter
-=-=-=-=-=-
۞۞۞۞
p-atreon.com/PokeFicLord
50+ Chapters in p-atreon.com.
(Just remove the hyphen to access Patreon normally.)