The rain on Route 119 finally showed signs of fatigue, no longer a torrential downpour but transforming into fine, slanting threads of silk, weaving a gray veil of mist over the world.
The Weather Institute stood silently deep within the curtain of rain, like a dormant white behemoth.
The building itself was cold, yet an abnormal, dry heat stubbornly seeped through the cracks of the doors and windows, clashing and intertwining with the damp, cold air outside, creating a stifling oppression that made one's chest feel heavy.
The firelight of Fortree City had long been swallowed by the horizon and the rain, but the scent of burning seemed to still linger faintly at the tip of the nose.
Ariel stood beneath a massive canopy tree. The thick crown shielded him from most of the rain, yet stray cold drops still slid along the leather grain of his black overcoat, eventually dripping into the mud at his feet.
Behind him, thirty members of the Team Rockets stood like silent statues, blending into the shadows of the forest; only the occasional reflection from their tactical goggles betrayed a hint of life.
These people, though not the elite of the Team Rockets, Ariel imagined that under his leadership and command, they would surely display their most powerful side!
Moreover, these members of the Team Rockets were all accustomed to life and death; the blood on their hands was perhaps no less than that of those madmen from the Magma Team.
"Is everyone clear on their mission?"
Ariel didn't look back. His voice wasn't loud, yet it was like a chisel tempered in ice, easily piercing through the sound of the rain and striking everyone's eardrums.
No one answered.
Silence was the best answer.
Ariel divided these six teams into A, B, C, D, E, and F for easier command and management.
"Team A, Team B, move out in thirty seconds. I want this building to become a dead tin can within three minutes; not even a fly should be able to fly out."
"Teams C and D, the moment the power is cut, breach from the main entrance. Don't worry about making a scene; your task is to make it as loud as possible and draw everyone inside who's still breathing down to the first floor."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the building radiating ominous heat waves, as if he had already seen through its steel and concrete.
"Team E, follow me from the rear. Team F, stand by on the perimeter; handle any fish that try to slip through our net, or... any uninvited guests."
The tactical arrangement was concise and clear, without a single wasted word.
Each team leader simply raised a hand in a gesture of confirmation.
Ariel could feel the gazes of the members behind him.
More than anything, there was a faint, imperceptible sense of awe.
He knew that the fire in Fortree City had likely already bound these people's hearts to him.
Trading the lives of ten peripheral members for a Gym Leader and the entire city's rescue forces to be run ragged, creating a perfect window of time for tonight's operation.
In a place like the Team Rockets, this deal was outrageously cost-effective.
And as the one who made this deal, under the code name "Ruth," he was undoubtedly labeled with a new tag in the eyes of these members—cold-blooded, efficient, and... ruthless enough.
This was exactly the effect he wanted.
What the Team Rockets needed was not a loyal dog, but a wolf capable of expanding territory and bringing in profit.
He wanted the code name "Ruth" to become an existence that could not be ignored within the Team Rockets in the near future.
He lightly brushed over the four Poké Balls at his waist; they felt cold to the touch.
Krokorok, Malamar, Weavile, and... Frogadier.
His hand stopped on Frogadier's Poké Ball.
"Move out."
As the cold words fell, sixteen people from the two teams instantly dispersed like ghosts, vanishing into the rain and the night.
Ariel gave Teams C and D a look, then led the five members of Team E toward the rear of the institute.
The sound of the rain was the best cover.
At the rear door of the institute, two Magma Team members in red uniforms leaned against the door smoking, complaining about the damn weather.
The simple rain shelter above them clattered under the pelting rain.
"Frog."
A faint, almost inaudible croak blended into the sound of the rain.
From the shadows beside Ariel, Frogadier's form quietly emerged, its sharp eyes locking onto the targets.
In the next second, a thick cloud of black smoke erupted from its mouth without warning, instantly enveloping the two sentries.
"What's this? Cough, cough!"
"Enemy attack!"
The cries of alarm were cut short.
Within the smoke, a swift shadow flashed past.
Frogadier's Hand Chop accurately struck the back of one person's neck; the man fell limp without even letting out a groan.
The other man was just about to reach for the Poké Ball at his waist when a palm wrapped in energy fluctuations slammed into his chest.
"Brick Break."
The crisp sound of bones snapping was perfectly masked by the rain.
The entire process took no more than three seconds.
Frogadier's strike was unexpectedly ruthless.
Ariel didn't even spare the two corpses a second glance; he simply made a gesture, and a member of Team E immediately stepped forward to handle the door lock.
Right at that moment.
"Zzt—Snap!"
The entire institute shuddered violently, all the lights extinguished instantly, plunging it into pure darkness.
Following that, the piercing alarm didn't sound; instead, rows of red emergency lights on the walls flickered on dimly, stretching everyone's shadows long and eerie.
Teams A and B had succeeded.
"Action!"
Almost simultaneously, the sound of a violent explosion and the dense roar of Pokémon skills came from the direction of the institute's main entrance!
Teams C and D's feint had begun.
The Lock-On the door behind Ariel made a soft click and opened.
He kicked the door open, and a blast of scorching air mixed with a heavy aura of energy rushed toward him.
"Team E, keep up."
The first-floor corridor had already turned into a chaotic mess.
Under the red emergency lights, Magma Team members scurried around like headless flies, cursing as they released their own pokémon.
Several Numel stood dazed in the middle of the corridor, the humps on their backs spitting out hot sparks.
Several Mightyena bared their teeth, low growls of threat emanating from their throats, yet they couldn't find a clear target to attack.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Several Koffing were accurately thrown deep into the corridor by Team Rockets members; purple smoke spread rapidly, and the pungent smell threw the Magma Team into further disarray.
"Steady! It's the Team Rockets! Take them out!" shouted a man who looked like a Minor Leader, commanding a burly Mightyena to pounce.
"Naive."
Ariel snorted coldly and waved his hand.
"Weavile."
With a flash of red light, Weavile's figure appeared on the smooth floor of the corridor. It didn't even look at the pouncing Mightyena, its crimson eyes scanning the entire chaotic battlefield.
"Ice Shard."
The command was so concise it was just a single word.
Weavile's form instantly turned into a dark red afterimage, weaving through the narrow corridor at high speed.
Countless fine ice crystals trailed behind it in a brilliant arc, reflecting an eerie light under the red glow.
Those Ice Shards weren't fired randomly; they were as if they had eyes, accurately striking the most vulnerable joints of every Magma Team pokémon.
A Numel was just about to spray Ember when its knee went numb, and it collapsed directly to the ground.
A Mightyena Splash, only to be struck in mid-air by Ice Shard, crashing to the ground with a howl and twitching, unable to get back up.
The fundamental wasn't a battle at all; it was a harvest.