The Red-Faced Dragon tribe's territory had already shrunk to a blurry ink blot behind him, and Shiba did not pause for even a moment.
The guidance of that Golden Prophecy was like coordinates branded into his mind—clear and burning hot.
His destination was the sheer cliff.
And his goal was that Gible, destined by fate to be anything but ordinary.
Wind howled past his ears, whipping up dust and sand. After two days of nonstop travel, a jagged stretch of broken cliffs finally burst into view.
Time had carved countless ferocious cracks into the mountain's body. Massive boulders jutted like interlocking fangs stabbing toward the sky, radiating a desolate, dangerous aura.
Shiba kept his body low, his breathing merging into the shadows cast by the rocks. Like a crouching leopard, he silently peered out from behind a massive boulder.
The battle he had expected was already unfolding in front of him.
No—this was more like a desperate struggle of a beast driven into a corner.
A Gible that wasn't all that large in size was being besieged by several Golbat. Its target was an inconspicuous cave opening on the cliff face—its chosen nest, and its final line of defense.
Its body was covered in crisscrossing wounds of varying depth, dark-purple blood already coagulated and staining its blue skin in patchy streaks. Every breath it took came laden with heavy strain; its stamina was clearly close to the limit.
But in its eyes, the fire had not gone out.
There was no hint of retreat. No trace of fear.
Every counterattack threw its entire remaining strength and will into its claws and fangs, tearing at the enemies encircling it in the rawest, most ferocious way possible.
That vicious resolve, that unyielding pride that would rather die than bend, seized all of Shiba's attention in an instant.
This was it.
Shiba's blood began to race, a feverish thrill rising from deep in his chest, the thrill of having discovered a true treasure.
In the prophetic vision, that mediocre Trainer had only appeared after this Gible and the Golbat had battered each other to the brink of mutual destruction, when they were both barely hanging on. It was then that he swooped in, taking advantage of the situation and forcibly capturing Gible with a Poké Ball.
That was conquest. That was plunder.
But he—Shiba—had a better way.
A king's way.
He did not reveal himself immediately. Instead, he calmed his mind, quietly circulating the secret art of Dragon Soul Resonance within his body.
An intangible yet incredibly pure Dragon-type aura slowly seeped out from him. There was no oppression in that aura at all; instead it carried a deep bloodline intimacy and nobility, like a spring breeze brushing across the hills—gentle, yet dignified.
In the midst of its life-or-death struggle, Gible's ferocious, fearless lunge suddenly froze.
It had sensed it.
That draconic majesty that made even its very soul tremble.
Its bloodshot eyes flickered with confusion and puzzlement as it snapped its head toward the direction where Shiba was hiding.
Now.
Shiba no longer stayed concealed. He stepped out from the boulder's shadow.
His footsteps were unhurried, devoid of the slightest aggression. In the sunlight, he held a few crystal-clear Pokéblocks in his hand. After perfect tuning, those top-grade Dragon-type ingredients emitted a mouthwatering aroma that instantly spread through the dry air.
"Good work, little one."
His voice was gentle, carrying a soothing power.
"Eat something first. Refill your strength."
Shiba crouched slightly and carefully placed the Pokéblocks on the ground a short distance in front of him.
The Golbat that had been circling and screeching overhead reacted the moment they saw a human appear. As if confronted by a natural enemy, they let out panicked shrieks, flapped their wings in a frenzy, and scattered, vanishing into the sky without looking back.
The battle came to an abrupt halt.
Gible's tense body did not relax. It stared fixedly at Shiba, this uninvited intruder, a low, threatening growl rumbling from deep in its throat.
But its gaze was held fast—almost against its will—by those small cubes lying on the ground.
That smell…
It had never encountered it before.
It was a scent that stirred its very bloodline, as if telling it that those were exactly what it needed most—a nectar that would make it stronger.
Shiba did not urge it, nor did he step any closer.
He simply stood there quietly, a kind smile on his face, eyes clear and free of any impurity.
Time seemed to slow at that moment.
A standoff.
A silent standoff.
In the end, physical cravings crushed mental vigilance.
The gnawing emptiness of its stomach, the weakness from its numerous wounds, and that irresistible aroma together shattered the last of its defenses.
Cautiously, step by step, Gible inched forward.
Every movement was filled with probing wariness. Its muscles remained taut, ready to either attack or retreat at a moment's notice.
At last, it reached the Pokéblocks.
It lowered its head, snapped up one in a flash, and then abruptly jumped back a few steps before gulping it down ravenously.
The next second—
A surge of indescribable warmth exploded inside its body like a breached flood!
That energy was pure yet gentle. Wherever it flowed, its completely drained stamina bar rapidly refilled, and the vicious wounds crisscrossing its body began to knit closed under a tingling sensation, visible to the naked eye.
Gible's eyes flew wide open.
They were full of shock and disbelief.
It raised its head and looked back at Shiba once more.
The wariness and hostility in that gaze melted away like snow under the morning sun, replaced by intense curiosity—and a faint closeness it itself had not yet noticed.
Shiba knew the time had come.
He held out the Pokéblocks in his hand again and, at the same time, used the bridge of Dragon Soul Resonance to transmit his will clearly into Gible's mind.
There were no complex words.
Only the most direct, most sincere promises.
[Come with me.]
[You'll have more Pokéblocks than you can ever finish, all of them tastier than this.]
[Come with me.]
[You'll have the strongest opponents, the harshest trials, and a chance to climb to the very peak!]
This stubborn Gible whose very bones were etched with pride was completely disarmed by this irresistible "sugar-coated bombardment" and the straight-to-the-soul sincerity behind it.
It longed to grow stronger.
It longed to fight.
And this human before it could give it everything it wanted.
It stopped hesitating. It stepped up to Shiba's side and gently rubbed its small, scaly head against his pant leg.
A soft trill rose from its throat—a sound that signified submission and trust.
Shiba's heart skipped a beat, a wave of immense joy sweeping through him.
He reached out and gently stroked the top of Gible's head, then, without the slightest hesitation, produced a red-and-white Poké Ball.
[Ding! Gible captured successfully!]
The cold mechanical system notification sounded like heavenly music at that moment.
[Pokémon: Gible]
[Potential: Champion level]
[Nature: Adamant]
Perfect!
(End of Chapter)
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