This chapter recaps how the four Rocket Executives escaped Lance, what they thought afterward, and the fear that stayed with them.
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By the time the echo of Dragonite's wings faded from Mt. Moon, the cavern had already begun to feel unreal.
Moonlight poured through the massive rupture in the ceiling, the wound left behind by Lance's final Hyper Beam, cascading down in pale silver sheets. Dust hung motionless in the air, glittering faintly as it drifted, as if even gravity itself had hesitated in the aftermath. The sacred lunar pools, once churned by drills and scorched by greed, had settled back into perfect stillness, reflecting the night sky above so clearly it was difficult to tell where the mountain ended and the heavens began.
Mt. Moon was healing.
That, more than anything, terrified them.
The four Rocket Executives remained where they had fallen, bodies battered and bloodied amid the wreckage of their operation. Broken machines sparked weakly before dying out entirely, leaving behind a silence so complete it felt oppressive. No alarms. No shouts. No orders being barked. Even the wild Pokémon had withdrawn, retreating into the depths of the mountain as if instinctively avoiding the place where judgment had been delivered.
Ariana was the first to move.
She pushed herself upright with shaking arms, her breath hitching violently as pain tore through her ribs. The impact from Dragonite's charge still reverberated through her body, each inhale sending sharp, burning agony across her side. She clenched her jaw and forced herself not to scream, biting down until she tasted blood.
Her reflection shimmered faintly in the surface of one of the lunar pools. Purple hair clung to her face in damp strands, makeup smeared and uneven, eyes wide and unfocused. For the first time in years, she looked exactly how she felt exposed, diminished, human.
"He's gone," she murmured, more to herself than to the others.
The words felt fragile as they left her mouth, swallowed almost immediately by the cavern's vastness.
"He actually left us alive."
The realization sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cold stone beneath her boots.
Proton sat slumped against a ruined console a short distance away, his back pressed against cracked metal and flickering lights. His right arm was cradled tightly against his chest, wrapped in a half-burned sleeve that did nothing to hide the damage beneath. The gauntlet he had once worn with pride his greatest invention, the culmination of years of research had partially melted into his flesh. Blackened metal fused to skin, wires embedded like veins beneath blistered tissue.
Every movement sent waves of agony up his nerves.
Yet even that pain barely registered.
His gaze remained fixed on the scorched stone where Muk and Weezing had fallen, their massive forms reduced to lifeless silhouettes. Pokémon he had trained personally. Assets he had trusted. Gone in seconds, erased without ceremony.
"He didn't need to kill us," Proton said finally, his voice hoarse and unsteady.
The words surprised him as much as anyone else.
"He could have. He chose not to."
His fingers twitched involuntarily, a jolt of pain tearing through his arm. He barely noticed.
"That dragon… it moved like it already knew what we were going to do. Like we were predictable."
Petrel lay curled on his side several meters away, knees drawn up toward his chest, breathing in short, panicked gasps. His hardhat lay discarded nearby, visor shattered, its once-polished surface dull with dust and blood. The usual theatrical composure that defined him the grins, the disguises, the effortless confidence was nowhere to be found.
"I thought disguises would work," he whispered, his voice trembling.
"They always do. Smoke bombs, misdirection, confusion that's how I survive. That's how I always get out."
His hands clenched into fists as his breathing quickened.
"But he saw through it. Like the smoke wasn't even there. He looked right at me." Petrel swallowed hard, his throat constricting. "I swear he knew who I was before I even moved. Like he'd already decided."
The implication hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Archer listened without interrupting.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he coughed quietly into his sleeve, staining the fabric dark red. His ribs were broken he was certain of it. Every breath felt like shards of glass grinding beneath his skin. Still, he forced himself to stand, gripping the ruined console for support as his legs trembled beneath him.
Pain was irrelevant.
What mattered was time.
"Lance said G-Force is coming," Archer said, his voice strained but steady. "That means we don't have long."
Ariana's head snapped up sharply.
"How long?"
"Minutes," Archer replied. "If that."
The cavern suddenly felt much smaller.
Ariana forced herself fully upright, swaying dangerously as she pressed one hand tightly against her side. Nearby, Arbok lay unconscious, scales cracked and bleeding where Dragonite's claws had torn through its defenses. For a moment, Ariana hesitated. Then she recalled the Pokémon with shaking fingers, her voice dropping into a hoarse whisper.
"You did good. Rest."
The words felt strange in her mouth, stripped of cruelty, almost tender.
Proton attempted to stand and immediately cried out as his damaged arm gave way, sending him crashing back against the console. Tears welled in his eyes despite himself.
"I can't," he gasped. "My arm… it's fused. I can't even feel my fingers anymore."
"We're not walking out," Ariana snapped, though the sharpness in her voice rang hollow. "We teleport."
Petrel fumbled inside his coat, hands shaking violently as he produced a compact black device no larger than his palm. The emergency extraction beacon—issued only to executives, meant for moments when failure was unavoidable.
His thumb hovered over the activation switch.
"He said next time he comes personally," Petrel whispered. "He said he wouldn't leave survivors."
Ariana reached out and grabbed his wrist, forcing his trembling hand to steady.
"We're not dying tonight," she said, though even she wasn't sure whether it was reassurance or denial.
Archer nodded once.
"Activate it."
Petrel pressed the switch.
The beacon hummed to life, its red indicator light blinking steadily. A soft chime echoed through the cavern, almost mocking in its calmness.
"Teleport lock acquired," Petrel said quietly. "Sixty seconds."
They waited.
No one spoke as the mountain slowly reclaimed itself around them. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, each drop echoing faintly as it struck stone. The empty cage at the center of the cavern hummed with residual energy, its purpose erased. The Clefairy were gone. The fossils would be reburied. The mountain endured.
Ariana slid down the wall until she sat on the cold stone floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"I've never seen anything move like that," she said after a long silence. "No speeches. No threats. He didn't even raise his voice. He just… ended us."
Her gaze drifted to the massive hole in the ceiling.
"Like we were ants."
Proton nodded slowly, tears streaking through grime and sweat.
"My gauntlet was military-grade. Prototype. It should have at least slowed him down." His voice broke. "Instead it melted. On me."
Petrel hugged his knees tighter, rocking slightly.
"I thought disguises would work."
Archer stared up at the moonlight pouring in from above, his expression unreadable.
"He doesn't fight like a Champion," he said quietly. "He fights like judgment."
The beacon's hum rose in pitch.
"Ten seconds," Petrel said.
A distant sound reached them rotor blades cutting through the night air above, searchlights sweeping across the mountainside.
G-Force.
Ariana's breath caught.
"No," Petrel said quickly. "Lock's stable."
Light engulfed them.
The world twisted.
And then they were gone.
When G-Force dropships descended minutes later, the cavern was empty. Agents rappelled down into silence, visors glowing red as they surveyed the ruins. They found destroyed equipment, fainted Pokémon, an abandoned cage humming faintly with residual power.
No executives.
Mt. Moon was quiet again.
And somewhere far away, four survivors of the Dragon came to understand a truth they would never escape.
They had not won.
They had been allowed to live.
And that knowledge would haunt them far longer than any wound.