With Rhyhorn's will finally broken, the journey resud. The intervening travel could not be wasted. Giovanni issued his orders to Archer and the others. "Use this ti. Drill them in basic combat and harden their bodies."
Archer and his n acknowledged without hesitation. "Yes, Boss. It will be done."
It was a brutal regin, but for the new recruits—Proton, Karmi, and a quiet girl nad Anna—survival was a powerful motivator. They trained without complaint.
A week bled into the next, drawing them ever closer to the golden tropolis of Saffron City.
During this ti, as Giovanni had anticipated, Persian's power surged. It ascended to the Senior Level, its mind sharpening as it unlocked the move Nasty Plot.
Rhyhorn, too, underwent a transformation. Nourished by a steady diet of mineral-rich rock and healed of its deep-seated injuries by the power of Viridian, its malnourished fra began to fill out. Its power grew in tandem, and it now stood on the very cusp of the Senior Level.
The beast was ambitious. Giovanni knew that once it reached that threshold, the thought of rebellion would undoubtedly cross its mind again— but that spark of defiance was extinguished before it could even ignite.
Persian, flush with its new power and unwilling to be second best, had imdiately challenged Beedrill. The resulting clash between Giovanni's two strongest Pokémon was a spectacle of vicious intensity. Though Persian was ultimately defeated by Beedrill's overwhelming ability, its position as second-in-command remained undisputed.
For Rhyhorn, who witnessed the battle, the display was terrifying. It had believed Beedrill's power was sothing it could one day surpass— but seeing the insectoid creature with its abilities fully unleashed, Rhyhorn felt a profound sense of dread.
The notion of rebellion was no longer just dangerous; it was suicidal. It decided it would not even reconsider the thought until after it evolved, if ever.
Nidorino, possessing a wild heart of his own, imdiately sensed Rhyhorn's internal conflict. He swaggered over to the massive Pokémon, posturing as he boasted of his own forr desire for freedom. He claid that he only tolerated his servitude out of respect for Giovanni's power, and that if he truly wished to run, not even Beedrill could stop him.
Rhyhorn, though brutish, was no fool. It gave the prancing, smaller Pokémon a disdainful look before contemptuously flicking it aside with its horn.
This insult ignited Nidorino's fiery temper. He was in the sa tier; what did a few levels matter?
He scrambled to his feet, ready to fight Rhyhorn. The battle was short and one-sided. Rhyhorn's sheer mass and superior moveset were too much for Nidorino, solidifying its place as the third strongest on the team, followed by Machoke, leaving Nidorino at the bottom.
Humiliated, Nidorino channeled his indignation into a furious training regin. He pushed himself relentlessly, breaking through three levels in a matter of days and mastering Horn Attack. His frenzy was such that Giovanni himself had to intervene.
Machoke, anwhile, remained in its own state of intense focus. Knowing their destination was Saffron City, it trained with a desperate fervor, its power climbing another level.
As for Beedrill, its strength was already at a peak. While its level hadn't increased, its potential had. The tal coat ore and fragnts of the Toxic Orb, tabolized with the help of Giovanni's power of Viridian, had fundantally changed it.
The shift was subtle, a change from light blue to a deeper, pale blue that only Giovanni's senses could perceive— but it was a profound alteration, raising the ceiling of Beedrill's ultimate power. The expedition had proven highly profitable.
Giovanni sat on a rock, watching the camp. "Archer," he called out. "Find a water source."
Finding resources in the wild was a simple task for the forr soldier. "Yes, Boss." Archer nodded and disappeared into the trees.
Their large group, burdened with children, was conspicuous. They were a target. Giovanni had already decided that once they reached Saffron, Archer and the boy, Karle, would escort the children back by vehicle.
Giovanni himself had a promise to keep in the city. If he found any more suitable youths, he would take them. If not, he would return to the organization alone.
Clang!
One of the Poké Balls at Giovanni's waist snapped open. Machoke erged, seating itself beside him.
Giovanni glanced at his Pokémon. "What is it? We are still so distance away. Be patient."
Machoke shook its head, its gaze fixed on the moon rising through the clouds. It let out a low growl, "Kuri…"
Giovanni patted its muscular arm. "Don't worry. If anyone has bullied that boy, I will deliver vengeance for Leo."
"Kuri!" Machoke nodded, clenching its fist and swinging it through the air with violent force.
Giovanni gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "You think Leo would appreciate you claiming the sole right to tornt him? He would likely try to beat you himself if he heard that."
Machoke scratched its head, a rare look of embarrassnt on its face as the tension broke.
Saffron City. The Fighting Dojo.
The gym should have been silent, its training grounds empty for the night. Instead, a lone child stood in the center, his fists striking a worn target dummy again and again. Sweat soaked his gi and pooled on the floor around him.
Though young, his every movent was precise, powerful, and flawless. He was, without question, a prodigy.
Outside the training grounds, Kaito, the Master of the Saffron Fighting Dojo, watched the boy with a deep, wistful sigh. "A pity," he murmured to himself. "If only you were my son. Then this dojo would have a true heir."
He gently tapped the nearby wall, the sound echoing in the empty hall.
The boy, Kenji, heard the noise and imdiately ceased his training. He turned and bowed deeply to Kaito. "Master!"
Kaito sighed again. "Even a genius has limits, Kenji. Go and rest. You have done more than enough."
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