Chapter no.27 This Is My Mountain

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The clearing was eerily quiet when Arianna stepped into it, her heels crunching against the uneven ground. Her crimson hair caught the faint glow of the rising moon, casting a sharp silhouette that made her presence all the more commanding. She moved slowly, deliberately, her steps a calculated rhythm that seemed to echo in the still air.

The first thing she noticed wasn't the trainer—or rather, the lump curled in a sleeping bag—but the Pokémon. The Pikachu stood rigid, its tiny body tense, sparks dancing faintly on its cheeks. The Spearow, one wing bandaged, flapped restlessly on a nearby rock, its beady eyes locked onto her like a predator sizing up a rival.

"Sorry for intruding," Arianna said, her voice smooth, almost disarming. "I was hiking and didn't expect to find someone out here in the middle of nowhere."

Her gaze shifted to the sleeping bag, where the figure stirred slightly but didn't fully emerge. The trainer turned just enough to keep her in view, his movements stiff and guarded.

"You're in luck then," came the muffled reply, the voice distorted by a deliberate gruffness. Arianna's sharp eyes caught the faintest quiver in his tone—forced bravado, she thought with quiet satisfaction.

Her gaze lingered on the scarf wrapped snugly around the lower half of his face. It was an odd choice. The cold mountain air justified it to an extent, but the way he adjusted it every so often, like a reflex, betrayed something else entirely. Hiding his face. Hiding himself.

How amusing. What are you so afraid of, little trainer?

"Most people don't."

"Is that so?" Arianna looked closely. No fire. No light. Interesting.

"Sleeping without a fire," she said. "Brave—or foolish?"

"Who needs a fire when you've got an electric blanket?"

"Clever," Arianna replied, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her gloves. "But not exactly the mark of a seasoned camper. Most trainers would prefer the warmth of a real fire."

"Well, I'm just doing my part for the environment. Why burn wood when you've got Pikachu? So, what's your story, Arianna?"

He dropped her name with unsettling ease, and for a fleeting moment, her composure wavered.

"Oh, nothing much," she said lightly. "Just trying to find my place in this strange world. Same as everyone else, really."

"Amen to that," he replied. "Food?"

The question caught her off guard, though she didn't let it show. What did catch her attention, however, was the way he turned his entire back to her, an oddly defensive move that screamed calculation rather than carelessness. His rummaging through the backpack was slow—too slow—each movement deliberate, almost exaggerated. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he tossed a container toward her with a lazy, nonchalant arc.

Arianna caught it effortlessly, but the lack of eye contact wasn't lost on her.

Still, she played along, settling onto a nearby rock and placing the box beside her. "Kind of you."

"Gotta share the wealth."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. Arianna's eyes darted to the Pokémon briefly before returning to the trainer.

"You're an unusual one," she mused. "Most trainers are friendlier. More... trusting."

"Trust is earned," he shot back.

"Fair enough," she conceded, though the edge in her voice sharpened slightly. "But people don't normally have their entire back turned during a conversation. Or cover their face like they've got something to hide."

The sleeping bag shifted slightly, and she caught the faintest flicker of tension in his movements.

"Guess I'm not most people."

"No," she said, her smile turning razor-thin. "You're certainly not. You wouldn't happen to have an Eevee with you, would you?" Arianna's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing—not the faint twitch of his hand nor the subtle movement near his bag. Beneath the flap, half-hidden, was the unmistakable glint of an electric taser.

"Pity, though," she added, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "I was starting to enjoy our little chat."

"NOW!"

Austin's voice rang out sharply as the meal prep box she'd set aside burst open, revealing a Pokéball. From it, Vee materialized in the form of Jolteon, its spiny fur crackling with electricity.

"Pikachu, Thunder Shock! Spearow, Sand Attack!" Austin's voice was steady now, all pretense dropped as he emerged fully, a paper bag covering his face.

Arianna was ready. With a flick of her wrist, her Pokéball opened, and a swirling storm of pink petals erupted around her. The tornado acted as a shield, deflecting Pikachu's Thunder Shock and scattering Spearow's Sand Attack like they were nothing. The attacks fizzled out uselessly, the dense petals absorbing the energy with cruel efficiency.

As the storm settled, Austin stiffened beneath his paper bag mask, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her Pokémon. Standing imposingly, Arianna's Vileplume emerged, its massive red flower with five bulky petals towering over the battlefield. The indigo, bipedal Pokémon's beady red eyes glinted in the dim light, and the air was instantly poisoned with its suffocating stench.

Austin gagged, covering his nose with his arm. Pikachu's ears flattened in discomfort, while Spearow squawked, flapping its wings at the air. Even Vee hesitated, its fur bristling as it stepped back.

"Apologies," Arianna said mockingly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Vileplume tends to leave... an impression."

Austin forced himself to stand firm, despite the nausea clawing at him. "Yeah, smells like you've got a great deodorant sponsorship," he shot back, though his voice was tight.

Arianna chuckled coldly. "I admire the courage," she said, her tone sharp. "But it won't help you."

"Sunny Day."

Arianna's voice cut through the tension like a blade. Vileplume's flower glowed as it unleashed an orb of radiant energy into the air, bathing the campsite in harsh, artificial sunlight. The oppressive heat seemed to choke the air, the shadows now obliterated.

Austin's mind raced. Chlorophyll. He gritted his teeth. That ability doubled Vileplume's speed in sunlight. Worse, it also neutralized his one advantage: the cover of darkness. She wasn't just fast; she was clever, dismantling his every option before he could act.

"Pikachu, Helping Hand! Spearow, Growl!" Austin barked out his commands.

Jolteon leaped forward, paw glowing as it used Helping Hand, boosting Pikachu's power. Spearow and Pikachu combined their Growls, their cries rippling through the air, momentarily lowering Vileplume's attack power.

But Arianna's confidence didn't waver. She smirked, her icy composure unnerving. "That's cute, really. Vileplume, Solar Beam."

Austin's eyes widened in horror. The sunny day wasn't just for speed—it enabled Solar Beam to fire instantly.

The flower on Vileplume's head flared gold, the sunlight bending and twisting around it like a living thing. The air itself seemed to hum with power, vibrating in Austin's chest as the energy condensed into a devastating beam. When it fired, the world went white. Pikachu braced itself, sparks dancing wildly along its fur as it released a desperate Thunder Shock. For a split second, the two attacks clashed, lightning crackling against the golden beam.

Then, like a tidal wave crashing through a sandcastle, Solar Beam tore through.

"Sword Strike!"

In an act of sheer desperation, Pikachu's tail glowed silver, the steel-like appendage cutting into the beam. Sparks flew as Pikachu dug in, refusing to yield. But the strain was too much. The blast exploded, sending Pikachu hurtling backward.

The shockwave rocked the campsite. When the dust settled, Pikachu was on the ground, its small body trembling, its fur scorched and singed. Its breathing was labored, blood seeping from cuts across its side.

"You're trembling," Arianna said, her voice like ice, sharp and unforgiving. She stepped forward, heels crunching against the rocky ground. "Relax. Team Rocket doesn't kill. Not directly, anyway. But your Pikachu..." She crouched slightly, leveling a gaze at Austin that felt like a blade against his throat. "It's so brave. Almost enough to make me forget that rule."

Austin staggered back as her gaze locked onto him. There was a predatory glint in her eyes—a mix of sadistic amusement and cold calculation. It wasn't just terrifying; it was paralyzing. Her expression told him everything: she was enjoying this. She wanted him to suffer.

"Let's see how far we can push those limits."

With a snap of her fingers, Vileplume unleashed Petal Blizzard. A storm of razor-sharp petals erupted from its flower, swirling into a tornado of vibrant destruction. The petals cut through the air with horrifying precision, aimed directly at Pikachu.

"Pikachu, move!" Austin screamed, his voice cracking. But Pikachu, battered and exhausted, couldn't dodge in time.

The petals struck like blades, each one cutting deeper than the last. Pikachu's cries of pain ripped through the air, sharp and agonizing, until they abruptly stopped. Its small body collapsed onto the rocky ground, battered and broken. Blood pooled beneath it, staining the dirt crimson.

"Look at that," Arianna mused, her tone devoid of pity. She stepped closer, the sharp scent of Vileplume's toxic spores filling the air. "Still breathing. Barely. You must be so proud." Her smile widened, cruel and predatory. "But pride doesn't win battles, does it?"

Austin's knees buckled, his hands trembling as he reached for Pikachu. Every breath felt like fire in his chest. He could barely see through the tears blurring his vision, but one thought screamed louder than the rest: This is my fault.

"Don't blank out now, boy," Arianna's voice taunted. "What's wrong? No plan left? No more clever tricks?" She leaned forward slightly, her tone mockingly sweet. "You wanted to play with the big leagues, didn't you? This is what it feels like to lose."

A sudden cry snapped Austin out of his paralysis. Spearow!

Austin's mind cleared just enough for a spark of focus. He couldn't afford to freeze. Not now. Not with Pikachu's life on the line.

"Hidden Power: Water!" Austin's voice cracked as Vaporeon formed an orb of glowing energy. "Spearow, Hidden Power: Fire!"

The two attacks streaked through the air, colliding with a blinding flash. Fire and water clashed violently, erupting into a billowing wave of steam. The heat was suffocating, the mist so thick it blurred the world into nothingness.

"Run, run, run," Austin muttered under his breath, scrambling to recall Vaporeon and Spearow into their Pokéballs. His hands fumbled, shaking so badly he almost dropped them. The mist was buying time, but not much. He threw himself onto the bike, his pulse thundering in his ears.

From somewhere in the mist, Arianna's voice rang out, cold and mocking. "You're only prolonging the inevitable, boy. This is my mountain. My territory. You can't hide from me forever."

Austin tore down the steep slope, his bike rattling violently over rocks and loose gravel. The wheels spat dirt into the air, the frame groaning under the strain of his frantic pace. The wind lashed against his face, cold and unrelenting, but it couldn't mask the tears streaking down his cheeks, soaking into the damp paper bag he wore. His breathing was ragged, each inhale sharp and uneven, like his lungs were fighting against the weight crushing his chest.

Pikachu's screams wouldn't stop. They echoed in his mind, relentless and agonizing, a symphony of pain and fear that threatened to drown him. The memory of blood dripping onto the ground—the red stark against Pikachu's yellow fur—flashed before his eyes, blinding him more than the tears ever could.

The weight of failure pressed down on him like a vice. His hands trembled against the handlebars, his knuckles white as he gripped tighter, desperate for any sense of control. Fear clawed at him, sinking its teeth into his mind, whispering that he wasn't good enough—that he'd gotten his team hurt because he wasn't strong enough, smart enough.

But he couldn't give in. Not now.

His team needed him. Pikachu needed him. They didn't need a terrified mess of a boy; they needed a trainer. A leader. Austin swallowed hard, forcing the bile rising in his throat back down. With every ounce of willpower he could muster, he shoved the fear into a corner of his mind, locking it away.

The mist blanketing the mountain swallowed the world around him, cloaking the path ahead in eerie silence. But Arianna's voice echoed in the back of his mind, sharp and mocking: Run, little boy. Run. You can't hide from me. This is my mountain. You're only delaying the inevitable.

Austin's jaw tightened. He gritted his teeth, the anger bubbling up in his chest giving him something solid to cling to. If she thought this was over, she was wrong.

The bike hurtled forward, the slope steepening, gravity pulling him faster and faster. The tears still came, unbidden, but his grip didn't falter. His team needed him alive, no matter what. They needed him to fight, even if it meant clawing his way out of the darkness inch by inch.

Tonight was a nightmare—a blood-soaked, haunting hell that felt like a boiling pot he couldn't escape. But if he couldn't get out now, he could do the next best thing: plan ahead.