Morning haze clung to Noctopolis like a half-finished dream, pale fog drifting across the training district's rooftop arenas. Up here, the city hummed below—distant traffic, the occasional Honchkrow cry, the low crackle of ghost-type energy that always seemed to hang in the air like static.
Cyrus tightened his gloves, rolling out his shoulders.
"Alright team," he said, stepping back as the rest of his Pokémon gathered. "We've got until the end of the week to sharpen up before heading to Bloodmoon Mountain. Gengar—"
Gengar floated forward, grinning like someone had just handed it the keys to chaos.
"You're the instructor today."
Gengar cracked its ghostly fingers, eyes glowing faintly."Gennn…gar."
Tyrunt gulped.Meltan tilted curiously.Charcadet simply crossed its little arms, embers pattering like impatient sparks.Ditto stretched itself into a perfect Gengar shape, mocking the real one.
Cyrus sighed. "Please try not to traumatize anyone."
Gengar winked.
Tyrunt went first, snorting steam as it stomped into the center ring. Gengar floated opposite, waving it forward with a taunting little curl of its fingers.
"Okay, buddy," Cyrus called. "Work on your acceleration. Short bursts. You're all power, but you need direction."
Tyrunt roared and lunged.
Gengar sidestepped with a lazy spin, letting Tyrunt's momentum carry it right past. The next three charges were the same—raw power, zero brakes.
"Slow down your head, not your feet," Cyrus said.
Tyrunt skidded, reconsidered, then launched again—This time feinting left, cutting right, jaw glowing with Dragon-type energy.
Gengar's eyes widened.It barely dodged.
Cyrus grinned. "That's it. Smarter, not just louder."
Tyrunt huffed proudly, tail wagging like a stone club.
Next was Meltan.
Meltan floated to the arena, tiny body twitching with electrical excitement. Gengar raised one brow—if it even had brows—and conjured shadowy targets drifting lazily in the air.
"Meltan," Cyrus said, "aim for the joints, not the center. Surgical strikes."
Meltan chirped, fired a Magnet Bomb—And obliterated every target in a chaotic explosion.
The rooftop shook.
Gengar clapped sarcastically.Ditto clapped too, mimicking Gengar exactly.
"Meltan… kiddo," Cyrus winced, "that was not surgical."
Meltan buzzed with embarrassment, then tried again—this time firing tiny, needle-precise electric arcs that sliced shadows cleanly in half.
"Yes!" Cyrus punched the air. "Control over chaos!"
Gengar nodded approvingly, which was rare.
Ditto wobbled into the arena next, reshaping mid-bounce into a perfect Meltan, then a perfect Tyrunt, then a… very muscular Cyrus?
"Please don't do that," Cyrus muttered.
Ditto turned into Gengar instead.
Gengar smirked.
Two Gengars floated toward each other, sizing each other up like rival pranksters at a ghost convention. The ensuing battle was basically a supernatural slap-fight: shadow punches, illusions, fake-outs, both of them laughing like toddlers with sugar rushes.
"Ditto," Cyrus called, "focus! You need to learn to shapeshift reactively, not just for fun."
Ditto paused mid-air, shuddered—Then transformed into Tyrunt just as Gengar lashed forward.
A perfect defensive pivot.Great timing.Actual strategy.
Cyrus clapped loudly. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Ditto puffed up proudly in its adorable rock-dino form.
Charcadet stepped forward last.
It didn't wait for instructions. Flames rolled from its armor, ghostly embers flickering with a strange violet tint—Noctopolis's ambient energy swirling around it like ink in water.
Gengar floated back a little.
Cyrus felt the shift too. "Easy, Charcadet. Don't push it all at once."
But Charcadet was focused.Burning with purpose.Ever since leaving Frostveil, it had been training non-stop—sparring with Tyrunt, keeping Meltan in line, practicing late into the night like it was chasing something only it could see.
"Alright," Cyrus said quietly. "Let's test your limits."
Gengar summoned more shadow targets—hundreds this time—circling Charcadet in a hypnotic, shimmering ring.
Charcadet inhaled, flames deepening to a rich, haunting indigo.
Then—
FWOOM.
A burst of ghost fire spiraled outward, slicing clean through every target with surgical precision. The air itself shivered.
Charcadet stumbled, but didn't fall.
"Charcadet…" Cyrus breathed.
Ghost-type energy surged around it, responding like a magnet snapping to its true pole. The city's natural spectral aura coiled tighter, brighter, drawn to its core.
Gengar floated back respectfully.Even Meltan stopped buzzing.Tyrunt lowered its head in awe.Ditto shrank into a tiny ":o" shape.
The flames around Charcadet folded inward—Compressed—Ignited—
And erupted.
Light swallowed the arena.Purple and blue flames spiraled into armored form.Rings of spectral energy pulsed like a heartbeat.
When the light faded—
Ceruledge stood where Charcadet had been.
Its blades flickered with ghostly fire, its armor gleamed with spectral heat, and its visor burned like twin blue coals.
Cyrus felt something in his chest tighten.
"…You did it," he whispered.
Ceruledge crossed its new arm-blades, letting out a low, resonant hum—part challenge, part gratitude.
Gengar bowed dramatically.The rest of the team cheered or clattered or buzzed.
Cyrus stepped forward, placing a hand on Ceruledge's cool, ghost-smoldering armor.
"Welcome to the next stage."
Ceruledge's eyes glowed, steady and fierce.
They were ready.