(A/N: The kaiju roster just got stronger—FabulousZoroark has arrived! May your footsteps shake the earth like Godzilla himself! Bonus Chapter incoming!)
Luxury villa? No, this was far beyond that. John stood at the grand entrance of a massive villa, taking in the scene before him.
The early morning fog still blanketed the estate, leaving only the faint outline of an antique mansion perched atop the mountain visible.
"Excuse , sir. Who are you here to see?" A security guard approached John, eyeing him curiously.
"I'm here to et... uh..." John hesitated, realizing he had never asked for the man's na.
Before the guard could press further, a voice called out from behind the wrought iron gate. "Let him in. The master is expecting him."
An elderly man, dressed in black training clothes and carrying a lantern, erged from the mist.
"Yes, Mr. Freed!" the guard quickly replied, opening the gate.
The old man, Freed, beckoned John forward. "Co with ."
John hurried to catch up as they vanished into the thick fog.
The lantern's soft glow illuminated their path as they ventured deeper into the villa's grounds. John caught a fleeting glimpse of a ghostly figure floating by—was that a Frillish?
"This fog is unusually dense," John remarked, pulling his jacket tighter.
Freed chuckled. "The mist cos from the master's Jellicent and Froslass. Ghost-types love wandering in it."
John nodded, absorbing the information. That Frillish-like shape made sense now.
"Forgive for asking, but what's the master's na?" John asked, feeling awkward for not knowing.
Freed glanced at him with mild amusent. "You don't know? Well, you'll figure it out soon enough."
John frowned. That wasn't reassuring.
They passed a small creek, crossed an ornate pronade, and climbed a long staircase before finally reaching the mansion's grand entrance. The walk had taken over ten minutes, but the scenery—manicured gardens, flowing streams, ancient statues—was stunning.
"Rich people really live differently," John muttered under his breath.
Inside, the mansion mixed antique charm with modern luxury. Despite its traditional exterior, the interior boasted the latest technology, art, and opulence.
In the main hall, a man in his thirties sat waiting. Freed gestured towards him. "Sir, he's here."
The man looked up, his gaze sharp. "Have you eaten breakfast?" he asked, though his tone was more of an order than a question.
John nodded silently, recognizing the arrogance in the man's deanor.
It clicked. John now understood Freed's earlier comnt. The man before him wasn't just anyone.
He was Damian Graves, one of Draconia Elite Four, fad for his mastery of Ghost-types. His reputation wasn't just about his skills; he had a dark flair, often delivering a chilling "judgnt" before taking down opponents.
At thirty-seven, Damian was the youngest of the elites, a household na across the region.
"So, you're the one with the cursed Haunter?" Damian's voice cut through John's thoughts.
"Yes. It's trapped by so kind of spell ring," John replied.
Damian gestured. "Release it. Let see."
John pulled out his Gaboy and summoned Haunter.
"Hauntttaaa!" Haunter cackled, floating around John before giving him a playful lick.
John grimaced and quickly popped a Cheri Berry into his mouth to counter the paralysis, its spicy-sweet taste bringing imdiate relief.
Damian's eyes narrowed as he observed Haunter. "Co here," he ordered.
Haunter floated over obediently, extending its clawed hand, revealing the ancient spell ring wrapped tightly around its wrist.
Damian examined it closely. "This spell is ancient—so old, I can't even decipher it fully."
John wasn't surprised. This Haunter wasn't exactly from this world.
"But," Damian continued, "there's still a way to break it."
John perked up. "How?"
"The spell's age works in your favor. Over ti, even the strongest seals erode. Give it another five or six years, and it might break on its own."
"Five or six years?" John nearly choked. "That's too long!"
"Then there's another thod. Use Ghost-type enhancent items—lots of them. Boost Haunter's power so it can shatter the seal from within."
"Will that affect Haunter negatively?"
Damian shook his head. "No. Either thod will free it eventually. But..." He hesitated.
"But what?"
"Be careful. Spell seals like this weren't used on ordinary Pokemon. This Haunter has likely been imprisoned because it was dangerous—possibly malevolent. Once freed, its full strength and personality will return. If you're not strong enough to control it, you could be in serious danger."
John gulped. "Noted."
He glanced at Haunter, who was now twirling around in the air, oblivious to the gravity of the conversation.
This was going to be more complicated than he thought.
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