By Thursday, Ethan had learned two things.
First, Houndour definitely performed better inside the Secret Realm.
Second, proving exactly why was considerably more boring than discovering it.
“Again.”
Houndour ran between two wooden markers.
“Turn!”
He planted his paws and changed direction.
“Back!”
Houndour sprinted toward Ethan.
Arthur clicked his stopwatch.
“Stop.”
Houndour immediately slowed.
That part made Ethan smile — a week ago, getting Houndour to stop when excited had been one of their biggest problems.
Now?
Not perfect.
But much better.
Houndour trotted toward Ethan.
“Hound!”
“Good boy.” Ethan crouched and rubbed his neck.
Houndour leaned into him.
Arthur wrote something in his notebook.
“Well?”
Arthur kept writing.
“Grandpa.”
“I heard you.”
“And?”
Arthur closed the notebook.
“He’s improving.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That I’m right.”
“About?”
Ethan spread his arms.
“The Realm!”
They were standing almost a kilometer from the portal.
The forest had become increasingly familiar over the last several days — not safe, Arthur refused to call any unexplored Secret Realm safe, but familiar.
They had marked routes, identified water sources, mapped berry patches.
And every time Houndour came with them, the same thing happened.
He seemed better here.
Not magically stronger.
Just better.
Arthur looked at Houndour.
“His endurance inside has consistently been better than outside.”
“And?”
“His recovery appears faster.”
“And?”
“He seems more energetic.”
“And?”
Arthur stared at him.
“What?”
“You want me to say it.”
“Yes.”
Arthur sighed.
“You were right.”
Ethan grinned.
“Hound!”
Arthur pointed at Houndour.
“You don’t get credit.” Houndour’s tail wagged.
Ethan laughed.
They had been testing for several days.
The procedure was simple: train Houndour outside the Realm, record his performance, let him fully recover, repeat similar exercises inside.
Arthur varied the order so they weren’t always testing outside first, and made Ethan keep Houndour’s food and training schedule as consistent as possible.
The results weren’t laboratory quality — Arthur reminded Ethan of that constantly — but the pattern remained.
Houndour liked the Secret Realm.
And the farther they traveled from the entrance, the more obvious it seemed to become.
That wasn’t the only pattern.
A Murkrow watched from a branch.
Two Poochyena had passed through earlier, and yesterday a group of Nickit — mostly Beginner and Normal Grade, White, Green and occasional Yellow Potential.
There had been another Blue Poochyena too, and Ethan marked it mentally — not because he wanted it, but because Blue Potential meant money.
He was beginning to understand Grandpa’s way of thinking.
Arthur packed the stopwatch.
“Let’s go.”
“Deeper?”
“Survey route three.”
“That’s deeper.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Ethan smiled.
“Houndour, come.”
“Hound!”
They moved.
Stoutland took the lead — Machoke wasn’t with them today, since Arthur had decided Stoutland was enough for the route they were surveying.
Ethan remained behind Grandpa with Houndour.
They crossed a shallow stream and entered a section where the trees grew closer together.
The canopy thickened; sunlight still reached the ground, but less of it.
Houndour stopped.
Ethan immediately looked down.
“What?” Houndour lifted his nose, breathed deeply, and his tail began moving.
“There it is again.”
Arthur turned.
“What?”
“He likes this area even more.”
Houndour wandered toward a tree and sniffed around its roots.
He wasn’t nervous — quite the opposite.
His movements were loose and energetic.
Ethan had seen Houndour excited plenty of times; this wasn’t exactly excitement.
It looked like comfort.
Like taking off your shoes after being outside all day.
Ethan frowned at his own comparison.
Arthur crouched and picked up a handful of soil.
Dark.
Almost black.
He rubbed it between his fingers.
“Anything?”
Ethan focused.
Nothing.
“No.” Appraisal remained stubbornly useless on anything that wasn’t a Pokémon.
Arthur dropped the soil.
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because abilities with limits are easier to understand than abilities that randomly do whatever they want.”
“Fair.”
A cry sounded overhead.
Several Murkrow flew between the trees.
Houndour looked up.
“Hound!” One of the Murkrow called back.
“He’s making friends.”
“Or insulting them.”
“You don’t know.”
“Neither do you.”
“Mine sounds nicer.”
Arthur continued walking.
They found the Sneasel twenty minutes later.
Stoutland noticed it first and stopped.
Arthur immediately raised a hand.
Ethan froze, Houndour beside him.
Something moved between the trees.
Fast.
Ethan caught a flash of black and red, then nothing.
“What was that?”
Arthur didn’t answer.
Stoutland turned his head.
Movement again — this time Ethan saw it.
“Sneasel.”
The Pokémon stood partly hidden behind a tree — dark body, red ear feather, long claws — watching them cautiously.
Ethan focused.
Species: Sneasel Type: Dark / Ice Grade: Normal Potential: Yellow Ability: Inner Focus Moves: Scratch, Leer, Taunt, Quick Attack, Feint Attack, Icy Wind
“Yellow.”
“Grade?”
“Normal.”
“Potential?”
“Yellow.”
Arthur nodded.
Sneasel didn’t attack — it watched Stoutland instead, which was probably why.
Houndour took a step forward.
“Sneasel!” The wild Pokémon hissed.
“Houndour, stay.”
Houndour stopped.
Ethan watched him.
No fear.
That was interesting — Sneasel was stronger than Houndour, Normal Grade versus Beginner, yet Houndour looked fascinated rather than intimidated.
Arthur noticed too.
“Don’t confuse confidence with strength.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Arthur pointed toward Sneasel.
“Then don’t let him start something Stoutland has to finish.”
“Houndour.
No.”
“Hound.”
“Good.”
The Sneasel eventually slipped behind the tree and vanished.
“Sneasel’s pretty cool.”
Arthur resumed walking.
“Do you want one?”
Ethan thought.
Maybe.
Dark/Ice was interesting.
Weavile was strong.
But — “I don’t know.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because ‘I don’t know’ is better than throwing a Poké Ball every time you see something interesting.”
“I could sell it.
Yellow should be worth something.”
“It is.” Arthur glanced toward where Sneasel had disappeared.
“But we’re mapping.”
Ethan nodded.
He understood now.
They could come back.
The route ended at another stream, wider than the first.
Arthur marked it on the map.
Ethan sat on a rock while Houndour drank, Stoutland standing watch.
Ethan looked around.
There was something strange about the place — not something he could see.
The forest looked normal enough.
But the Pokémon: Dark-types were becoming increasingly common.
Not exclusively — they’d still seen Bug-types, Flying-types, a pair of Foongus, one angry-looking Beedrill that Arthur had immediately routed them around — but compared with the area near the portal, the difference was obvious.
Ethan opened his notebook.
He’d started bringing it despite his previous complaints; Arthur had noticed, and Arthur had wisely said nothing.
Ethan wrote: Murkrow — common.
Poochyena — common.
Nickit — several.
Mightyena — 1 pack leader.
Sneasel — 1.
Then: Houndour — feels better farther in.
He stared at the page.
“Grandpa.
Do Secret Realms have types?”
Arthur was checking the stream.
“You asked me that already.”
“I know.
And I told you environments can favor particular Pokémon.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Ethan gestured around them.
“Could the entire Realm be Dark-type?”
Arthur was quiet, then sat on another rock.
“There are officially classified elemental and type-aligned Realms.”
“So yes.”
“Possibly.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask that question.”
“I asked if Secret Realms had types.”
“And I answered.”
“Grandpa.”
Arthur smiled slightly.
Ethan groaned.
“So how do they know?”
“Survey equipment.”
“What kind?”
“Equipment I don’t own.”
“Federation exploration teams measure environmental energy, atmospheric conditions, soil, water, mineral composition and several things I don’t understand well enough to explain.”
“Type energy?”
“Essentially.”
“So we could test this.”
“Yes.”
“How much does the equipment cost?”
Arthur stared at him.
Ethan’s smile slowly disappeared.
“What?”
“Imagine you’re selling Secret Realm survey equipment.
A sixty-two-year-old orchard owner calls.”
Ethan immediately understood.
“Oh.”
“And asks for a machine specifically designed to classify unexplored Secret Realms.”
“That would be suspicious.”
“Very.”
“What if we rent one?”
“Records.”
“Borrow one?”
“From whom?”
“Someone you know.”
“And what do I tell them?”
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Exactly.”
“So we can’t know.”
“I didn’t say that.” Arthur pointed toward Houndour.
“We have him.” Houndour looked up from the water.
“We have the Pokémon we’ve been recording.” Ethan looked at his notebook — Murkrow, Poochyena, Mightyena, Nickit, Sneasel.
“We have plants, berries, soil and minerals we can test through ordinary laboratories without mentioning a Secret Realm.
And we have time.”
“You think it’s Dark.”
Arthur was silent for several seconds.
“I think we have enough evidence to make it our working assumption.”
“So Dark-type Secret Realm.”
“Unofficially.”
“Dark Realm.”
Arthur frowned.
“That sounds like something from a bad movie.”
“I like it.”
“Of course you do.”
Ethan wrote across the top of the page: DARK REALM.
Arthur sighed.
They headed back before evening.
On the return journey, Ethan noticed something else.
Houndour didn’t want to leave.
Not literally — when Ethan called him, he followed; when Ethan told him to stop, he stopped.
But the closer they came to the portal, the more often Houndour looked back.
Ethan noticed.
So did Arthur.
Neither said anything.
They crossed into the cave.
Houndour stopped again, exactly like before, looking back through the portal at the warm forest beyond the stone arch.
“Hound?”
Ethan crouched beside him.
“You really like it there.” Houndour looked at him, then toward the portal.
Arthur was watching.
Ethan stood.
“That’s more than excitement.”
“Looks like it.”
“Could living there make him stronger?”
Arthur adjusted his backpack.
“Training makes him stronger.”
“You know what I mean.”
Arthur nodded.
“If the environment is genuinely favorable to Dark-types, it could improve training efficiency.
Recovery.
Possibly long-term development.”
“Potential?”
Arthur’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Could it raise his Potential?”
Arthur shook his head.
“Don’t start.”
“But—”
“We have evidence he feels better inside.” Arthur counted on his fingers.
“That’s it.”
“He trains longer.”
“Yes.”
“Recovers faster.”
“Seems to.”
“So maybe—”
“No.”
Ethan sighed.
“Don’t turn one advantage into ten imaginary ones,” Arthur added.
Ethan looked at Houndour.
Yellow Potential.
He knew now that Yellow was good, Blue was better, Purple above that, Red at the top — and they’d already seen multiple Blue Pokémon inside.
For a moment, Ethan wondered what would happen when Houndour eventually reached the limit of what Yellow Potential allowed.
Then Houndour licked his hand.
Ethan smiled.
That was years away.
Probably.
“Come on.”
Houndour followed.
Arthur made a phone call after dinner.
Ethan wasn’t supposed to listen.
That was precisely why he listened.
He was halfway down the hallway when Arthur’s voice reached him from the study.
“Yes.” Pause.
“No, nothing exotic.” Another pause.
“I need current market information.”
Ethan stopped.
Market?
He moved closer.
Arthur’s study door was partly open.
“…wild-caught Pokémon.”
Ethan’s eyes widened.
He leaned closer.
“Potential certification too.”
Caterpie.
Grandpa was checking the Caterpie.
“I haven’t decided.” Pause.
“No.
I’m not starting a capture business.” Another pause.
Arthur laughed quietly.
“At my age?
Absolutely not.”
Ethan leaned closer.
The floor creaked.
Arthur stopped speaking.
Ethan froze.
Silence.
Then—
“Ethan.”
He closed his eyes.
Damn.
Ethan stepped into the doorway.
Arthur was sitting behind his desk with his phone against his ear.
“Hi.”
Arthur stared.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He ended the call.
Ethan smiled.
“Who was that?”
“None of your business.”
“The black market?”
Arthur’s expression went flat.
Ethan laughed.
“I’m joking.”
“Good.”
“So?”
Arthur placed the phone down.
“So what?”
“You’re checking Pokémon prices.”
“I am.”
“The Blue Caterpie?”
“Among other things.”
Ethan entered.
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“But Blue Potential is expensive.”
“Compared with Green or Yellow, yes.”
“How expensive?”
Arthur leaned back.
“Depends on species.
Age.
Grade.
Health.
Ability.
Demand.
Breeding value.
Certification.”
Ethan pulled out the chair opposite him.
“But there’s a general price.”
“There are general ranges.”
“Tell me.”
Arthur studied him, then sighed.
“For ordinary species, Blue Potential starts entering serious Trainer money.”
“How much?”
“Tens of thousands.”
Ethan went still.
“Dollars?”
“No, potatoes.”
Ethan ignored that.
“Tens of thousands?”
“For a verified Blue Pokémon, depending on species.”
Ethan thought about the Caterpie — the little green Pokémon sitting on a branch, eating a leaf.
Thirty thousand?
Forty thousand?
Maybe more?
“And Purple?”
“Hundreds of thousands can become realistic very quickly.”
Ethan swallowed.
“Red?”
Arthur was quiet.
“That’s not the kind of Pokémon you casually put an advertisement online for.”
Ethan understood.
Millions.
Maybe more depending on species.
He thought about the Secret Realm — the Blue Caterpie, the Blue Poochyena, the Blue Arbok.
They had found three already.
Four if he counted the second Poochyena.
Arthur saw his expression.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were calculating.”
“Maybe.”
“Stop.”
“But Grandpa—”
Arthur leaned forward.
“Listen carefully.” Ethan became quiet.
“One Blue Pokémon?” He raised one finger.
“Luck.” A second.
“Two?
Very good luck.” A third.
“Three?
People start remembering your name.”
Ethan’s excitement faded.
“If I repeatedly show up with high-Potential wild Pokémon, someone eventually asks where I’m finding them,” Arthur continued.
“The Realm.”
“Exactly.”
Ethan looked toward the window.
Bennett Orchards was dark outside.
“So we can’t sell them.”
“I didn’t say that.” Arthur smiled slightly.
“We just can’t be stupid.”
That brought Ethan’s smile back.
Later, Ethan lay in bed.
Houndour slept on the rug beside him.
Delcatty had once again stolen the bottom half of the mattress.
Ethan stared at the ceiling.
Dark Realm.
The name was unofficial.
Grandpa hated it, which meant Ethan was absolutely going to keep using it.
More importantly, they were beginning to understand what they’d found.
The Realm favored Dark-types — Houndour trained better there, recovered better, felt better — and somewhere inside were Pokémon worth tens of thousands of dollars, maybe more.
But Arthur was right.
They couldn’t simply grab everything valuable.
The Realm was their greatest advantage, and if other people discovered it, that advantage disappeared.
Ethan turned his head.
Houndour was sleeping peacefully.
Yellow Potential.
Beginner Grade.
His first Pokémon.
His partner.
Ethan smiled.
Tomorrow, they would train again.
Then school.
Then maybe another expedition.
Slow.
Careful.
That was Grandpa’s way.
Ethan wasn’t naturally very good at slow.
But if slow eventually got him where he wanted to go, he could learn.
Probably.