North didn't forgive hesitation.
The wind never stopped, the rocks never softened, and the ground never stopped moving under the surface—Sandslash and Dugtrio carving invisible tunnels, Onix sliding like a slow earthquake. Most recruits would have called it hell.
Enzo called it heaven.
By the end of the first day, he and Proton had a rhythm. By the end of the third, it looked like a routine that had always existed.
Mornings were technical.
No "random battles." No "let's see what happens." Enzo ran it like a workshop.
Corvisquire went first, every time.
It launched from the plateau edge and dove through the red ravines like a blade, wings cutting the wind, then snapped up and hovered—heavy, controlled, unreal for something that was still technically a mid-stage bird.
"Again," Enzo said.
Corvisquire's eye sharpened. It loved doing drills.
That was why Enzo made it repeat the drills.
He set up rock markers—small stacks of black stone at different distances—then forced Corvisquire to hit them in sequence without losing altitude.
Air Slash at range.
Then Payback on a moving target.
Then a tight Sand Attack pass, low enough to kick grit into the cracks where Ground-types hid.
No wasted movement.
Every flight had a purpose.
Proton watched with the kind of silence that meant he was memorizing.
Zubat's training was uglier.
Not because the bat was weak—its form was clean, controlled, disciplined—but because North demanded more than "a clean Wing Attack."
Proton with Enzo counseling made it fly blind.
He had Proton throw small stones from behind a boulder while Zubat had to dodge purely off echolocation. Every time it clipped a rock, it got no Pokéblock.
Every time it avoided one?
A small cube.
Koffing—Proton's Koffing—trained like it hated everything.
It floated with a permanent expression of disgust, vents flaring whenever Proton spoke, like he was polluting the air by existing.
Proton made it run through control drills.
Hold positions.
Poison Gas exactly on the marked line.
Smog only when commanded.
The Koffing tried to be difficult.
It learned quickly that difficulty didn't change the schedule.
Meanwhile, Enzo's Koffing…
…didn't train properly at all.
Not because Enzo didn't try.
But because Enzo's Koffing spent the entire morning hovering three feet away from Proton's Koffing like a worshipper in front of a shrine, grinning stupidly and vibrating with devotion.
It didn't even blink when Enzo called its name.
It just stared at her as if she was a divine chemical formula.
Enzo sent a sharp thought into it.
"Train."
The response came dreamy and sincere.
"She… Kaaboom…."
Enzo closed his eyes and pretended he didn't hear that.
Gastly trained last—because Gastly didn't "train."
Gastly taught.
It drifted between them like smoke with opinions, laughing inside their heads whenever someone messed up. Every correction came with mockery. Every success came with smug approval.
It was effective.
By midday, they moved into the second half of the rhythm.
Afternoons were wild training.
Not "chasing." Not "searching."
North's Ground-types were aggressive, but predictable. They didn't like leaving their rock corridors. They didn't like flying shadows overhead.
Corvisquire and Zubat made them feel unsafe.
Enzo and Proton walked through the ravines, following movement signs. Dust that sank for a fraction of a second. Small tremors that weren't the wind.
Then Enzo did what most recruits would never do and used the same strategy he used in the cave.
He paid the wild Pokémon.
A Geodude rolled out from under a red shelf of rock, fists already raised, eyes hard with suspicion.
He flicked a Pokéblock cube between two fingers and tossed it onto the stone in front of Geodude like a coin.
The Geodude stopped.
Stared.
Then it ate it.
Enzo pointed toward Corvisquire.
"Fight."
The Geodude hesitated like it was trying to decide whether this was a trick.
Then hunger did what hunger always did.
It attacked.
It wasn't a real duel—Corvisquire didn't even need to be serious—but it was controlled, and it was useful. Corvisquire practiced timing. Zubat practiced distance. Gastly practiced making everything worse by laughing.
When it was over, Enzo tossed another cube.
The Geodude took it and rolled away with the expression of someone who had just signed a contract.
Proton stared at Enzo like he was watching a magic trick that was actually just cruelty with good marketing.
"…You can do that?" Proton asked.
Enzo didn't look at him. "Why wouldn't you?"
Proton tested it in the next ravine.
A Sandshrew popped up, claws spread, teeth bared.
Proton hesitated—just once—then did what Enzo had done.
Pokéblock.
The Sandshrew sniffed.
Its posture softened by a fraction.
Then it ate.
Proton swallowed and pointed his Zubat forward.
"Fight."
The Sandshrew fought.
Not because it respected him.
Because it had been paid.
When the exchange ended, Proton looked at the empty pouch, then at Enzo, eyes narrowed in a way that wasn't anger.
It was understanding.
Enzo smile.
Inside his head, the thought landed clean and satisfied:
He adapts fast.
Doesn't question the morality. Focuses on efficiency.
That's why he became an Executive in the other life.
Then Gastly decided to get creative.
It drifted toward Proton's Zubat with a grin too wide for the shape it wore.
Zubat flapped back instinctively, already suspicious.
Gastly formed a small sphere of darkness —tiny at first, like a pebble made of night.
A miniature Shadow Ball.
Then it tossed it lazily into the air and caught it again like it was juggling.
Zubat stared.
Enzo used telepathy to see what Gastly was saying
Gastly's voice slid into zulbats skull, delighted and insulting.
"Bat is fast… but bat is stupid."
Zubat shrieked, offended.
Proton frowned. "What is Gastly doing?"
Enzo cut him off calmly. "Let him."
Gastly floated closer, eyes bright.
It formed the Shadow Ball again—slightly larger this time—then held it just out of Zubat's reach like candy.
"Come on," Gastly teased mentally. "Do it. Make one. Or is bat stupid?"
Zubat snapped at the air.
Nothing happened.
Gastly laughed—cold, smug, cruel.
Zubat's wings beat harder. Its echolocation clicks turned sharper, faster, like a radar trying to stab something. Its eyes narrowed.
Again it tried.
Again, nothing.
Gastly leaned closer and whispered the final insult with perfect timing.
"So bat is really just stupid..."
That did it.
Zubat's entire posture changed.
Pure competitive rage.
A pulse of darkness flickered at the edge of its mouth—unstable, messy—like a failed attempt to become real.
Gastly froze mid-laugh, suddenly interested.
"Oh?"
Zubat tried again.
This time, the dark sphere formed—not smooth, not perfect, but there.
A tiny Shadow Ball, trembling like it hated existence.
Zubat held it for half a second…
…and then flung it forward with a scream.
It slammed into a rock wall and burst, leaving a black scorch that looked wrong against the red sandstone.
Proton stared.
Enzo didn't react like it was a miracle.
He reacted like it was expected.
He tossed Zubat a Pokéblock cube.
"Good," Enzo said.
Gastly drifted in a slow circle around Zubat, grinning so wide it looked proud.
"Bat learns when bat gets angry."
Zubat hissed and flapped higher, as if it didn't want to admit it enjoyed that.
Proton looked at Enzo, then at Gastly, then at his own Zubat.
"…did he just learn shadow ball?" he asked carefully.
Enzo's voice stayed flat.
"Congratulations."
Above them, Enzo's Koffing drifted closer to Proton's Koffing again, vibrating like a broken engine.
It didn't care about Shadow Ball.
It didn't care about drills.
Proton's Koffing glanced at it once—just one cold, unimpressed look—then turned away like Enzo's Koffing wasn't even worth insulting.
Enzo's Koffing vibrated harder.
Enzo stared at the two of them and felt his headache returning.
Lunchtime came.
They ate in the shade of a tall rock spine that cut the wind like a wall. The North was unusually calm for once—no tremors underfoot, no sudden movement in the ravines.
Proton sat with his back against the rock, chewing slowly, his eyes half-lidded as he looked out at the haze.
"Man," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "This weather… it feels more like Hoenn. It's too humid for Kanto."
Enzo paused, a ration bar halfway to his mouth. He looked at Proton.
"You've been in Hoenn?"
Proton smiled, but it was a faint, distant thing. He stopped chewing, looking past the rocks into a memory.
"I was born there," Proton said softly. "Best years of my life. Even though I didn't have a father—that bastard left before I could walk—I was happy. It was just my mother and me."
He stared at the ration bar in his hand, his grip tightening until the wrapper crinkled.
"That was until she got sick," he continued, his voice losing its warmth. "The doctors in Hoenn couldn't do anything. They told us the League in Kanto had better medicine, better scientists. They said they could cure her."
Proton let out a bitter, short laugh.
"So we moved. We spent everything we had to get to Kanto. But when we got here… the League didn't care. We were nobody. No money, no connections. They put us on waiting lists. They ignored us."
He looked up at Enzo, and for the first time, Enzo saw the hate that fueled the boy. It wasn't the anger of a recruit trying to survive. It was deep, old rot.
"She died in my arms," Proton whispered. "And I couldn't do a damn thing. The League fooled us like it fools everyone. That day, I swore I'd make them pay for what they did. That's why I joined Team Rocket."
Silence settled over the small camp.
Enzo watched him. He felt a flicker of genuine respect. Proton wasn't just a thug; he was broken, driven by the kind of spite that made him an excellent Executive in the past.
"Thanks for sharing," Enzo said quietly.
He leaned back against the stone.
"We will make them pay," Enzo assured him, voice flat and certain. "That's a promise."
Then, Enzo took a bite of his ration and added, almost casually:
"And look on the bright side. At least you knew your mother. At least you had someone to lose."
Proton blinked, confused.
Enzo shrugged. "I was abandoned in the street as a baby. I don't even have a face to remember."
Proton stared at him, shocked. He opened his mouth to say something, realized his own tragedy, and suddenly felt different compared to having absolutely nothing from day one.
He looked at Enzo with a new kind of understanding.
But before he could speak—
The air shifted.
A sound cut through the quiet.
Enzo dropped his ration instantly. He was on his feet before the sound stopped.
"Corvisquire," he hissed.
A massive shadow fell over them.
Corvisquire crashed onto the plateau, stumbling as it landed. It didn't have its usual predatory grace. It skidded, one wing dragging in the dust, breathing hard.
Enzo was there in a second, a Potion bottle already in his hand.
"Easy," Enzo commanded.
He inspected the bird.
The left wing had deep, jagged bite marks.
But the worst part was its face—dried mud crusted over its eyes, blinding it.
Proton scrambled up, abandoning his lunch.
"What happened?" Proton asked, voice rising in alarm. "What attacked it?"
Enzo sprayed the potion on the wing, his mind already reaching out, forcefully connecting with Corvisquire's
Corvisquire's breathing steadied.
Enzo's jaw stayed tight.
"Talk to me," Enzo sent through telepathy, controlled and firm.
Corvisquire's voice echoed back, Simple. Rough.
"I was… Patrolling," Corvisquire replied. "Saw crack in red rock. Cave. Smelled prey."
"You went in?"
"Went in... Dark. Saw movement deep inside. Small lizard... laughing."
"A lizard?"
"Yes," the bird confirmed. "Had black things on eyes."
Enzo stopped applying the bandage immediately. His mind flashed to the anime from his past life. Small lizard? Sunglasses?
"Wait," Enzo interrupted, his mental voice full of urgency and confusion. "Was it blue? Did it have a round shell on its back? A curly tail?"
Corvisquire seemed genuinely confused by the question.
"Blue? No. Dirty sand color. Black stripes. Teeth."
Enzo sighed, disappointment hitting hard. Then he remembered something, "Forget it. What happened next?"
"Dived to crush small one," Corvisquire continued, anger growing in the static voice. "But shadows behind him... moved. Not a wall. Him."
"Who?"
"The Big Red One. Walked on two legs. Tall. Had black eyes on face too."
Enzo frowned.
"Did it attack?"
"Didn't roar. It smiled," Corvisquire said bitterly. "Tried to fly up. But he hit the ground. Threw mud at face."
"Mud-Slap," Enzo diagnosed.
"Not just dirt," Corvisquire corrected, sensing the pain again. "Heavy. Wet. Fast like a bullet. Hit eyes straight on. The world went black. Blind."
Enzo looked at the dried mud crusted over the bird's eyes.
"And the wing?"
"Tried to flap. To go up," Corvisquire replied, voice trembling with the memory of the snap. "But then... teeth. Felt pressure."
"Bite," Enzo murmured.
"Didn't want to just bite... wanted to rip the wing off. Pulled hard. Tore flesh to get out of the mouth. Flew blind until I felt the sun."
Corvisquire opened his one good eye and stared at Enzo.
"Master... nest is bad."
Enzo withdrew his hand and looked at the distant ravine.
wiping the residue of the potion from his hands onto his trousers. His face was unreadable, but behind his eyes, his mind was racing, connecting the dots with the cold logic of a strategist.
Brown with black stripes… Sandile.Red, bipedal, natural black tint around the eyes… Krookodile.
Enzo looked toward the jagged horizon where the ravine lay hidden.
A Krookodile.
It wasn't just a strong wild Pokémon. It was a final evolution at Level 40. Minimum. For Krookodile.
Enzo let out a slow breath.
A Level 40 Pokémon on Trial Island was an anomaly. A "Secret Boss." Either Team Rocket had planted it there years ago to test overconfident recruits, or it was a natural monster that had eaten everything else in its territory.
Most recruits would see a death sentence.
Enzo saw a goldmine.
Ground and Dark type, he calculated.
The combination was elite. Immune to Psychic—making it a hard counter to Sabrina's faction. Immune to Electric—nullifying the common weakness of his Corvisquire. Resistant to Poison, Rock, Ghost, and Dark.
If he could secure a Krookodile, or even a high-potential Sandile from that lineage, his team wouldn't just be strong. It would be balanced.
It was a risk. A massive one.
But the reward was a creature that could tear through the Final Exam like paper.
Enzo turned away from the horizon and faced Proton.
Corvisquire was resting now, its breathing heavy but stable, fury still radiating from its good eye.
Proton had stopped eating. He was standing there, watching the scene with growing unease, his ration bar forgotten in his hand.
"What was it?" Proton asked, his voice tight. "What kind of thing did this?"
Enzo didn't sugarcoat it.
"He found a den," Enzo said calmly. "Inside, there's a monster. A Krookodile."
Proton blinked. Then his eyes went wide.
"A Krookodile?"
Enzo nodded. "Level 40. At least."
The color drained from Proton's face instantly.
"Forty?" Proton repeated, his voice jumping an octave. "Enzo, that's… that's insane. Our team averages level 20. A Level 40 wild Pokémon will kill us with a slap. We need to move camp. Now. Before it tracks the blood scent."
Proton turned, already reaching for his bag, survival instinct kicking in hard.
"No," Enzo said.
The word hung in the air like a wall.
Proton stopped. He turned back slowly, looking at Enzo like he'd lost his mind.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I mean, we aren't running," Enzo said, his eyes locking onto Proton's. "It has something I want. And Corvisquire knows exactly where the cave is."
Proton stared at him, mouth slightly open. "You… you want to hunt it?"
"I want to secure the asset," Enzo corrected.
He stepped closer to Proton. The wind howled around them, but the silence between the two recruits was heavier.
"Proton," Enzo said, his voice dropping to a serious, command tone. "Get ready. I need your help."
Proton hesitated. He looked at the injured Corvisquire. He looked at the vast, dangerous North. Then he looked at Enzo—the guy who had blown up a machine to take first place.
Proton swallowed his fear. Loyalty, or maybe just the inability to say no to Enzo, won out.
"Sure," Proton said, though his hands were shaking slightly. "I'm with you. But… help with what, exactly?"
Enzo smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"I need to get inside that cave without getting mud in my eyes," Enzo said softly.
He placed a hand on Proton's shoulder.
"So, I'm going to need you to be the bait."