The first scream didn't sound human.
Cyrus froze on the second-floor balcony of the Ashfall Crossing inn, hands still gripping the railing. The cold mountain wind sliced across his cheeks, carrying the metallic stink that had been haunting him since the valley—iron, old soil, and something deeper, rawer.
Then the second scream came.
Human.
High.
Terrified.
Kina burst through the balcony doors behind him, Growlithe already snarling at her heels. Sliggoo clung to her shoulder, antennae trembling.
"South side of town," Kina snapped, eyes narrowing. "Multiple sources."
Multiple.
Not good.
Cyrus didn't bother replying—he was already sprinting for the stairs.
Ditto, who had been masquerading as his scarf, peeled off his neck mid-jump and hit the floor with a soft splorp. In a flash of blue plasma he swelled into a sturdy combat form—a distorted Tyrunt body, oversized arms, shark grin—"DIT-tuh!"
"Yeah, yeah, monster mode," Cyrus muttered. "Let's go!"
The town was already burning.
The first building they passed had its front wall peeled open like a can. Shattered beams. Glass everywhere. A smear of dark blood dragged across the dirt into the street.
The ground trembled under their feet.
Kina whispered, "That's not one Ursaring."
A roar ripped through the street—thick, guttural, too deep to belong to anything Cyrus had ever met up close. Flames burst from a rooftop as a terrified civilian's Arcanine crashed through a window and bolted past them, its flank ripped open, ribs visible.
A second roar answered it… closer.
They rounded the corner.
And the world went sideways.
A street of carnage
Three Ursaring were already down—two unmoving, one twitching weakly. Another lay on its side in the middle of the plaza, chest heaving, foam dripping from its jaws. Thick crimson matted the fur along its neck.
Standing around it—
Not rangers. Not locals. Hunters.
Armored clothing. Shock pikes. A couple holding pump-action slug launchers meant for angry Steelix.
One of them slammed a pike into the downed Ursaring's throat. The bear let out a choking bellow.
"STOP!" Cyrus shouted, voice cracking. "Back off—back off, you're killing it!"
One hunter looked up, sneering. "It tried to kill one of ours."
"No," Kina said coldly. "You pissed it off."
The man leveled his weapon at her. "Stay out of it, girl."
Growlithe's bark was sharp, vicious, an immediate warning.
But the third roar cut everyone off.
It rolled out from the alley to their right—deeper, sickeningly distorted, as if echoing off bone. The streetlights flickered. Metal signs rattled.
The hunters spun in unison.
Cyrus's heart hammered.
"No," he whispered. "No way. This close to town…?"
The creature that emerged was massive—bigger than any standard Ursaluna by several heads. Its fur was dark maroon, clumped with dirt and dried blood. A jagged red crescent pulsed faintly across its mask-like face.
A Bloodmoon Ursaluna.
And it was barely standing.
A deep gash tore across its shoulder. One eye was swollen shut. Its front limb shook with every step. It wasn't attacking—
It was trying to escape.
Trying to run.
The nearest hunter raised his slug launcher.
"FREEZE!" Cyrus yelled.
Too late.
The gun fired with a thunderous crack, the slug tearing into the Bloodmoon Ursaluna's flank. The creature staggered, roared—and collapsed onto one knee.
Kina cursed under her breath. "They're going to kill it."
Cyrus felt something snap inside him. All the fear, the confusion, the sick churn of helplessness he'd been carrying since stepping into this valley—
Gone.
Replaced with a cold, razor-sharp clarity.
"Not tonight."
The square erupts
"GENGAR—GO!"
The shadow at Cyrus's feet exploded upward in a swirl of purple haze. Gengar materialized with a grin that promised violence.
Ditto roared in his monstrous mimic form.
Kina was right beside him—Growlithe releasing a wave of defensive flame, Sliggoo coating the ground in sticky mucus to slow the hunters' footing.
The men cursed, turning their weapons toward the kids.
"You two are suicidal!"
Cyrus's voice hit like a whip. "Gengar—CONFUSE RAY, wide spread! Don't let them shoot!"
Gengar spun midair, laughter echoing through the plaza as a cascade of brilliant, blinding orbs erupted outward. Half the hunters clutched their heads, stumbling. One dropped his launcher. Another fired wildly into a building wall.
Kina grabbed Cyrus's sleeve and yanked him out of the path of a shock pike.
"Watch it!"
"I am watching—very closely—too closely—oh gods—!"
A hunter swung at Cyrus again.
Ceruledge erupted onto the field in a blaze of blue light, blades igniting with ghostfire. The sword-arm Pokémon intercepted the strike, sparks scattering across the dirt.
"Nonlethal!" Cyrus barked.
Ceruledge tilted its helmeted head, then struck the hunter's chestplate with the flat of one blade, knocking him ten feet back.
Not dead. Just very sorry.
Ditto barreled headfirst into a second hunter, sending him sprawling.
Meltan, perched on Cyrus's shoulder like a living metal droplet, launched a stream of magnetized pellets that yanked weapons out of their hands.
Everything was chaos.
Smoke. Roars. Screams.
Blood—too much of it.
Kina fought like she'd been born in a battlefield—low, controlled, efficient. Growlithe guarded her flank, flames forcing hunters to back off. Sliggoo wrapped a man's legs and dragged him down with surprising force.
The wounded Bloodmoon Ursaluna struggled to rise again—whining, confused, terrified.
And then Cyrus saw the bodies.
Two small Teddiursa.
Still.
Crushed during the hunters' first assault.
His stomach lurched.
He'd seen death before—accidents, lab failures, battles gone wrong—but nothing like this. Nothing so senseless.
Nothing done by choice.
His fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms.
PoV break — a hunter
Jarron spat blood, struggling to push himself up.
Kids. A bunch of kids were standing between them and the monster that had torn through the southern quarter the night before.
Idiots.
He reached for his sidearm—only for a shadow to peel off the wall and pick it up before he could touch it.
Gengar's grin gleamed inches from his face.
Jarron froze.
The ghost put a finger to its lips—shhh—and the weapon dropped into a puddle of sludge at his feet.
He swallowed. Hard.
Maybe… maybe they were the idiots.
Back to Cyrus (full POV)
The Bloodmoon Ursaluna dragged itself upright again, chest heaving. A strange shimmer rippled over its mask. Its remaining eye locked onto Cyrus—confused, frightened, desperate.
Something primal twisted in his chest.
"Cyrus," Kina called, "they're reloading!"
He whipped toward the hunters. Two had broken past Gengar's distraction. One leveled a shock pike. The other slammed a fresh slug into his launcher.
They aimed for the bear.
"No—DON'T—!"
Cyrus didn't think.
Didn't plan.
Didn't calculate odds or trajectories or physics.
He just ran.
"Kina!" he shouted. "Cover me!"
She didn't hesitate.
Growlithe launched a wall of flame across the shooters' line of fire. The men cursed, stumbling back.
Cyrus skidded to a stop directly in front of the wounded Bloodmoon Ursaluna, chest heaving.
The thing towered over him. Its breath blew hot and metallic across his face. Its claws dug three-inch grooves into the earth.
Kina screamed, "CYRUS—MOVE!"
He didn't.
He held the Poké Ball in his palm, trembling.
"I'm not doing this to own you," he whispered to the beast. "I'm doing this to save your life."
A slug whistled past his shoulder, close enough to burn.
Cyrus threw the ball.
The beam struck the Bloodmoon Ursaluna.
The massive creature howled, pained, furious, betrayed, and dissolved into red light.
The ball hit the dirt.
It jerked once.
Twice.
Violently.
Cyrus held his breath.
The ball dinged.
Silence crushed the square.
Even the hunters stared—stunned.
Gengar floated beside him, eyes wide for once. Ditto waddled up and grabbed his pant leg with a soft, worried chirp.
Kina jogged over, still catching her breath. "You're insane."
Cyrus exhaled shakily. "Yeah. I noticed."
The ball in the dirt shivered faintly. Inside, something huge shifted.
"We're taking it to the inn," Cyrus said quietly. "We're healing it. And when it wakes up, it can choose what happens next."
Kina nodded.
Growlithe pressed against her leg, whining softly. Sliggoo peeked from behind her, trembling at the lingering scent of blood.
Around them, the hunters regrouped—angry, humiliated, ready to argue.
But none of them stepped closer.
Not with Ceruledge's blades burning inches from their throats.
Cyrus slowly reached down and picked up the Bloodmoon Ursaluna's Poké Ball.
It was warm.
Too warm.
He closed his fingers around it.
The mountain roared again—somewhere far above. But there was something different this time.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Pain.
Kina looked toward the peak. "Something's happening up there."
Cyrus tightened his grip on the Poké Ball.
"Yeah," he whispered. "And whatever it is… it's driving these things to desperation."
He turned toward the broken, burning street, the ruined homes, the injured townsfolk slowly emerging from hiding, the bodies of Pokémon that should never have died tonight.
His voice dropped to a cold, steady murmur.
"And we're not letting it continue."