Ethan had imagined unexplored territory would look different — darker, more dangerous, enormous claw marks carved into trees, fog over the ground, some conveniently placed warning that said TURN BACK.
STRONG POKÉMON AHEAD.
Instead, it looked like a forest.
“That’s disappointing.”
Arthur stopped.
“What is?”
“The unexplored part.”
Arthur looked around.
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.
Something.”
“Very descriptive.”
Houndour sniffed around the base of a tree while Stoutland stood several meters ahead, scanning the forest.
Behind them, a strip of orange cloth marked the last point Arthur had previously mapped.
Everything beyond it was new.
Arthur removed his notebook.
“Time.”
Ethan checked his watch.
“Nine twenty-three.”
“Mark it.”
Ethan wrote: Route Four Extension — 9:23 AM.
“Northeast,” Arthur said, checking the compass, and Ethan added it.
They’d developed a routine — Arthur navigated, Ethan recorded, Stoutland handled security.
Houndour was learning.
“Stay close.”
“Hound!”
The Dark-type immediately returned to Ethan’s side.
“Better,” Arthur said.
Ethan smiled.
Houndour had gotten a lot better, not only in battle — inside the Realm he seemed increasingly comfortable following commands despite the smells, sounds, and wild Pokémon around them.
That hadn’t been true during their first trips, when every rustling bush had been interesting.
Now a Murkrow flew overhead, and Houndour only looked, then kept walking.
“Professional.”
“Hound.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Arthur said.
The first hour was uneventful, which was good — Arthur repeatedly reminded Ethan that uneventful exploration was successful exploration.
Ethan understood.
He still found it boring.
They crossed a shallow creek and found unfamiliar berry bushes, which Arthur photographed but refused to collect yet, and spotted three Poochyena — two Beginner Grade, one Normal, all Green Potential.
Farther along, Ethan Appraised a Murkrow: Normal Grade, Yellow Potential.
Then another, Beginner and Green.
Then a Nickit, Normal and Green.
Ethan frowned.
“Grandpa.”
Arthur was examining a tree.
“Hm?”
“That’s the third Normal Grade.”
“Today?”
“Yeah.”
He flipped through his notes.
“Actually fourth.”
“What was the other one?”
“Poochyena near the creek.”
“Oh.” Arthur straightened.
“Meaning?”
“We’re seeing more of them.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
“Four Pokémon aren’t enough for definitely.”
Ethan sighed, and Arthur smiled slightly.
“But it’s worth recording.” Ethan did — that was how Grandpa worked.
Never this is absolutely true.
Always interesting, write it down.
Secret Realms didn’t come with instruction manuals.
One wrong assumption could get them killed.
They found the first real warning shortly before eleven.
Stoutland stopped — not slowed, stopped — and Arthur immediately raised his hand.
Ethan froze, and Houndour froze with him.
That was another improvement.
Stoutland stared into the trees, his body changed, tail rigid, head lowered.
“What?”
Arthur didn’t answer.
A sound came from somewhere ahead, low and deep, something Ethan couldn’t identify.
Then something crashed through vegetation, not toward them but across their path — dark fur, a large body, a gray muzzle.
A Mightyena.
It disappeared between the trees, but Ethan focused just before it vanished.
Species: Mightyena
Type: Dark
Grade: Advanced
Potential: Green
Ability: Intimidate
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
“Advanced.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Certain?”
“Yeah.”
Arthur immediately opened the map.
“We stop going northeast.”
“Because of one Mightyena?”
“Because an Advanced-grade predator just crossed our route.”
“It didn’t attack.”
“Correct.”
“So—”
“Which is why we’re walking away instead of running.”
Ethan looked where Mightyena had disappeared, and Houndour stared too, his confidence gone this time.
Not terror — caution.
His ears were lower.
He knew.
The Realm might feel good to him.
That didn’t make him the strongest thing living here.
Arthur marked the map — ADVANCED MIGHTYENA, AVOID — and drew a rough boundary around the area.
“We go east.”
Ethan nodded, no argument.
That Mightyena had been stronger than anything Ethan had personally battled by a ridiculous margin.
Lucas’s Normal-grade Growlithe suddenly seemed much less intimidating.
They changed direction.
The terrain sloped downward, trees thinning as more sunlight reached the ground, and Houndour relaxed again.
By noon they found a clearing beside another creek, and once Arthur and then Stoutland had checked it, they stopped to eat — Ethan a sandwich, Houndour from his travel bowl, Stoutland his own portion.
“You think there are Elite Pokémon here?”
“Almost certainly.”
Ethan stopped chewing.
“Seriously?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?
We have no idea how large this place is.”
Ethan looked toward the forest.
That was true.
They’d been thinking about the Realm in terms of routes — one kilometer, two, a few hours of walking — but there was no reason it had to be small.
“Could there be Champion Pokémon?”
Arthur shrugged.
“Possibly.”
“Grandpa.
You could sound more worried.”
“I am worried.”
“You don’t look worried.”
“I’m sixty-two.
Looking worried is exhausting.”
Ethan laughed.
Arthur continued eating, then his expression turned more serious.
“This is why we don’t rush.”
Ethan nodded.
“Stoutland is Elite.”
“Yes.”
“So we’re safe from Advanced.”
“No.” Arthur pointed his sandwich at him.
“Remove that thought from your head.”
“But Stoutland—”
“Is strong.
Not immortal.” He looked toward his Pokémon.
“Wild Pokémon don’t follow school rules.
There could be several.
Environmental hazards.
Poison.
Traps.
Territorial packs.” Ethan listened.
“If Stoutland has to fight, our first priority isn’t winning.” Arthur looked directly at him.
“It’s getting you out.”
Ethan didn’t like that.
“I’m a Trainer too.”
“You’re twelve.”
“Still a Trainer.”
“Beginner Trainer.”
Ethan looked at Houndour, who kept eating.
Traitor.
Arthur smiled.
“Someday you’ll protect me.”
“Yeah.”
“Today, I protect you.”
Ethan couldn’t really argue with that.
They found the Poochyena forty minutes later.
It found them first — Houndour suddenly turned.
“Hound!”
A bush moved, and Stoutland immediately stepped forward, but Arthur raised a hand.
“Wait.” A small gray head appeared.
Poochyena stared at them, then at Houndour.
Ethan focused.
Species: Poochyena
Type: Dark
Grade: Beginner
Potential: Blue
Ability: Quick Feet
Moves: Tackle, Howl, Sand Attack, Bite
Ethan’s eyes widened.
“Blue.”
“Grade?”
“Beginner.”
“Ability?”
“Quick Feet.”
Arthur looked at Poochyena, still partly concealed, as Houndour stepped forward and it growled.
“Houndour, stay.”
Houndour stopped.
Arthur watched him, then the wild Pokémon.
“We could leave it.”
“Forty-two thousand.”
Arthur sighed.
“That Caterpie has damaged you.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Different species.
Different market.”
“Poochyena has to be worth more.”
“Probably.” Ethan smiled.
Arthur frowned.
“But we’re not catching it because it’s Blue.”
Ethan’s smile faded.
“Why not?”
Arthur considered, then looked at Houndour.
“Have you ever actually captured a Pokémon?”
“No.”
“You threw your first Poké Ball at Houndour.”
“Mom already owned him.”
“Exactly.”
Ethan understood.
“You want me to catch it?”
“I want you to learn.”
Ethan looked at Poochyena, his excitement returning immediately.
“For me?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“You have one Pokémon and barely know what you’re doing with him.”
“Thanks.”
“We’re not adding another because you saw a pretty color.”
Ethan looked at the Blue label floating in his vision.
It was a very pretty color.
“So we sell it?”
“If we successfully capture it, we’ll decide later.”
Ethan reached toward his belt, and Arthur caught his wrist.
“Not yet.”
“What?”
“Think.”
Ethan looked at Poochyena.
It hadn’t moved.
“Battle it?”
“Maybe.”
“Throw a ball?”
“Maybe.”
“Grandpa.”
Arthur nodded toward the Pokémon.
“What’s it doing?”
Ethan watched.
It wasn’t attacking, and it wasn’t approaching either — body low, eyes moving between Stoutland, Houndour, and the humans.
“Watching.”
“And?”
“Scared?”
“Good.” Arthur stepped backward.
“Stoutland.”
Stoutland moved away from the front, and Poochyena visibly relaxed.
Ethan understood — Stoutland had been terrifying it.
“Now what?”
“You tell me.”
Ethan looked at Houndour, then Poochyena.
“Houndour.
Forward.”
Houndour moved.
Poochyena growled.
“Hound.”
Growl.
Neither attacked.
Ethan slowly reached for an empty Poké Ball.
Poochyena saw the movement, its ears flattened, and it ran.
“Oh!”
Ethan threw, too late.
The Poké Ball hit the ground, and Poochyena vanished into the trees.
Ethan stared.
Arthur laughed.
“Not funny!”
“Very funny.”
“Get it!”
Arthur didn’t move.
“Grandpa!”
“Your capture.”
Right.
Ethan turned.
“Houndour, track!”
Houndour immediately put his nose down, then ran.
“Ethan.”
Ethan stopped.
Arthur pointed.
“Don’t chase blindly.” Right.
Again.
Ethan forced himself to slow down — Houndour was already several meters ahead.
“Stop!”
Houndour stopped.
Good.
Ethan caught up, Arthur and Stoutland following.
“Now.”
“Houndour, track.”
Houndour sniffed, moved, slowly this time.
Poochyena was good at running.
Houndour was better at following.
For nearly fifteen minutes they tracked it through the forest, twice glimpsing movement, twice losing it again.
Then Houndour stopped beside a fallen tree.
“Hound.”
Ethan looked.
Nothing.
Houndour stared underneath, and Ethan crouched.
Two yellow eyes stared back.
Found you.
Poochyena growled.
Ethan stood.
“Come out.”
Nothing.
Arthur waited behind him.
“Can Houndour go under?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Ethan thought.
Ember would be stupid — he could start a fire.
Smog, maybe.
Then he remembered Poochyena’s moves: Sand Attack, Bite, Tackle, Howl.
No ranged attack.
“Houndour, go around.”
Houndour circled the fallen tree while Poochyena watched him, and Ethan moved to the other side.
Not really trapped — it could still run — but whichever direction it chose, one of them was there.
Poochyena growled louder.
“Careful,” Arthur said from behind him.
Ethan nodded.
Wild Pokémon may attack the Trainer.
Reyes’s lesson.
He suddenly remembered it very clearly.
Poochyena burst out, toward Ethan, and his stomach dropped.
“Houndour!”
Houndour moved as Poochyena lunged.
“Bite!”
Houndour intercepted, and the two collided.
Ethan stumbled backward.
Poochyena twisted, its teeth catching Houndour’s shoulder.
“Hound!”
“Shake him!”
Houndour thrashed, and Poochyena released.
“Back!”
Houndour jumped away.
Good.
Ethan’s heart was pounding.
This didn’t feel like Ryan or Samantha — no referee, no boundary, no Trainer standing opposite him.
Poochyena wasn’t trying to score points.
It wanted out.
“Sand Attack!”
Poochyena kicked dirt, and Houndour recoiled.
Ethan blinked — he hadn’t commanded that.
Of course not.
Wrong Pokémon.
“Houndour, left!”
Houndour moved blindly, and Poochyena ran.
“Track!”
Houndour sniffed despite the dirt and turned.
“Bite!”
He charged, and Poochyena met him — teeth, growls, bodies rolling through leaves.
Ethan clenched his fists.
“Break!”
Houndour disengaged as Poochyena turned to run.
“Ember!”
Flames struck its side, and it yelped and stumbled.
Ethan grabbed another ball.
“Now!”
He threw.
The Poké Ball hit Poochyena — red light, and the ball dropped once, twice, before Poochyena broke out.
“What?”
The Pokémon appeared and immediately ran.
“Houndour, cut it off!”
Houndour sprinted — the Dark Realm seemed to agree with him — and reached Poochyena’s flank, forcing it to change direction.
Exactly what Ethan wanted.
“Ember!”
Another hit, and Poochyena fell.
Ethan threw again — red light, shake, once, twice, three— Break.
Poochyena emerged again.
Ethan stared.
“Seriously?”
Arthur laughed behind him.
“Less commentary.”
Poochyena tried to stand.
Ethan hesitated — it was exhausted, and Houndour was breathing hard too.
He could attack again, probably, but— Ethan took another Poké Ball and crouched slightly, and Poochyena watched him.
“You’re not getting away.” Poochyena growled weakly.
“Sorry.”
He threw.
The ball struck — red light, one shake, two, three.
Click.
Silence.
Ethan stared.
Houndour stared.
Then—
“YES!”
Houndour barked.
“HOUND!”
Ethan ran forward and grabbed the Poké Ball from the ground.
“I caught it!”
Arthur approached.
“You did.”
“My first catch.”
“Technically.”
“What does technically mean?”
“You had supervision and an Elite Stoutland standing thirty meters away.”
“Still counts.”
“It counts.”
Ethan grinned, looking at the ball.
His first real wild capture.
For one brief moment another thought appeared — Blue, better Potential than Houndour.
Mightyena could be strong.
Dark-type.
It fit him.
Maybe—
Arthur saw his face.
“Do you want it?”
Ethan looked at Houndour, sitting beside him, exhausted but proud, then at the ball.
Did he?
He imagined training Poochyena, feeding it, learning its personality, building another relationship.
He didn’t feel anything.
Not like Houndour.
He liked Mightyena.
But liking a species wasn’t enough.
“I don’t know.”
Arthur nodded.
“Then don’t keep it.”
“That simple?”
“Pokémon can live for decades.” Arthur pointed at the ball.
“Don’t commit to one because a number in your head says it’s valuable.”
Ethan looked at the ball again.
Blue.
That was all.
“I think we sell it.”
“Eventually.”
“How much?”
Arthur sighed.
“There he is.”
Ethan laughed.
They didn’t explore farther — Arthur insisted the capture had already consumed enough time and Houndour had taken damage.
Ethan wanted to continue, then looked at Houndour’s shoulder.
Small bite wounds.
Nothing serious.
But enough.
“Okay.”
Arthur nodded, and they turned back.
Poochyena stayed inside its Poké Ball; they’d have it examined after returning, but wouldn’t list it for sale yet — Arthur had made that clear.
One Blue Caterpie, then another Blue Pokémon too soon?
No.
They had time.
The Realm wasn’t going anywhere.
Probably.
Ethan hoped.
They reached the orange marker from that morning, and Arthur unfolded the map.
The new route stretched considerably farther than before — a creek, new berry bushes, several Normal-grade sightings, Advanced Mightyena territory, the Poochyena capture site.
Their explored territory had grown, and yet beyond the lines was still mostly blank paper.
“How big do you think it is?”
Arthur folded the map.
“No idea.”
“Could be hundreds of kilometers.”
“Could be.”
“Thousands?”
“Possibly.”
Ethan looked back.
The forest stretched farther than he could see.
They’d entered the Realm dozens of times now — mapped routes, found berries, caught Pokémon, trained Houndour — and still barely scratched the surface.
Ethan smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
Ethan looked toward the unexplored forest.
“There’s a lot out there.”
Arthur followed his gaze.
“Yes.”
“Pokémon.”
“Yes.”
“Resources.”
“Probably.”
“Rare stuff.”
“Possibly.”
“Purple Pokémon.”
Arthur sighed.
“Of course.”
“Maybe Red.”
“Ethan.”
“I’m just saying.”
Arthur started walking, and Ethan followed, Houndour trotting beside him.
After several steps, Ethan looked back one final time.
Somewhere beyond their map was an Advanced Mightyena.
Maybe Elite Pokémon.
Maybe stronger.
Maybe Pokémon he’d never seen outside television.
Ethan looked at Houndour, then at the tree line they hadn’t crossed yet.
They weren’t ready for whatever was out there.
Not this month.
Maybe not this year.
He filed that away next to everything else on the list of things to get stronger for, and kept walking.