Chapter 47 – Beneath the Ashes
The flames had dimmed, but the danger had only grown.
James stood at the head of the battered group, his coat torn at the shoulder, Arcanine at his side, breathing heavily—its once-blazing mane now scorched and dull. Nearby, Lorelei leaned against a cracked pillar, cradling Lapras's Poké Ball in her trembling hand. Noland, dirt smeared across his face and a fresh cut on his brow, kept Metagross poised like a steel bulwark, scanning the shadows for movement. Daisy's Slowbro hovered just behind, eyes glowing with psychic strain, while Erika—serene amid the chaos—held Gloom close, a soft green mist rising from its petals.
The stadium was reduced to fractured stone and flame-licked ruin. Steel beams jutted from the ground like the claws of some buried beast. The crowd was gone—fled, or fallen. Around them, darkness moved, restless and hungry.
Gengar's laughter echoed, thin and cruel, somewhere in the smoke.
From the far end of the field, J emerged. His long coat was untouched by the chaos, and his eyes gleamed with something sharper than malice—intention. Beside him, Gengar hovered, eerily still, lips twisted in a crooked smile.
To the left, L advanced with chilling calm, her dark violet suit immaculate. Her corrupted Electabuzz stalked at her side, shadow-tainted electricity writhing around its fists.
And behind them, the horde surged.
Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of Pokémon, twisted by darkness, poured from the shattered entryways of the stadium: Mightyena with pulsing red veins, Crobat shrieking overhead, a Steelix slithering through the rubble, its body stained black with scorched iron. The group was surrounded—trapped.
James exhaled slowly, then turned to the others. "We're not getting through them in a straight fight."
Noland nodded, rolling a cracked Poké Ball between his fingers. "We don't need to win. We just need to open a way out."
"Gloom, get ready to lay down cover," Erika said softly, eyes already searching for openings.
Arcanine's growl rumbled low, sensing what was coming.
Then, all at once, they moved.
"Arcanine—Heat Wave!"
With a roar, a wave of searing heat exploded from Arcanine's core, incinerating the first row of shadow Pokémon. The air rippled, smoke churning upward in a suffocating cloud.
"Metagross—Psychic! Scatter them!"
A surge of pale blue energy radiated from Metagross's eyes, lifting several Mightyena and hurling them into a collapsing wall.
Daisy's voice rang out next. "Slowbro, Light Screen—then Psychic on the left!"
A shimmering barrier rose just in time to block a volley of shadow lightning from Electabuzz. Slowbro retaliated with a mental blast, knocking Crobat from the sky.
Erika, calm as ever, knelt beside Gloom. "Now, Stun Spore. Gently."
Gloom released a golden mist that drifted upward, clinging to the eyes and wings of the flying Pokémon. Many faltered, crashing into debris or each other.
"James, now!" Noland shouted.
"Arcanine—Flare Blitz, to the exit!"
With a final burst of fire, Arcanine hurled himself forward like a comet, crashing through a gap in the ruined walls. The others sprinted after, Slowbro's telekinesis clearing debris as they ran. Erika paused only to toss a final Aromatherapy, sweeping the air clean of poison.
Behind them, Gengar gave chase—but Metagross turned, launching a blinding Flash Cannon that forced J to retreat with a snarl.
The group vanished into the smoke.
They burst from the eastern tunnel into what had once been the outer concourse of the Indigo Plateau.
Now, it was a battlefield.
Entire sections of the plaza had collapsed. Flags bearing the League's insignia lay torn and burning. Distant cries echoed from every direction, and dark shapes prowled beyond the ruins. James looked around—eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
"This… this isn't just the stadium," Daisy whispered. "They attacked everything."
James knelt beside Arcanine, laying a steadying hand on his partner's singed fur. "We'll find shelter. We regroup. Then we fight back."
No one argued. They just moved—toward the last place that might still be standing.
The Pokémon Center.
The Indigo Plateau Pokémon Center stood like a hollowed-out carcass—its iconic white dome blackened by smoke, its glass façade shattered and bleeding sunlight into broken halls. James and the others approached cautiously, the silence oppressive.
Inside, the air smelled of antiseptic and scorched plastic. Machines sparked in the corners, and overturned stretchers lay scattered like forgotten hopes. The reception desk had been abandoned in a rush. Dried blood stained the tiles leading deeper in.
"This place is half-dead," Noland muttered, glancing around.
"No," Daisy corrected, squinting toward the far hall. "Someone's been here… recently."
She moved ahead, Slowbro floating just behind her, eyes alert. Her steps echoed through the corridor until she paused before a set of lockers bent outward by force. One panel behind them was slightly ajar—a hatch partially hidden behind a wall once covered with posters.
"Here."
The others gathered quickly. James leaned down, brushing soot from the hatch. The metal was scuffed and rusted, but intact. A small emergency symbol had been scratched into the surface—likely unnoticed by most. Without another word, he pulled it open.
Below them was a ladder, descending into darkness.
They hesitated only a moment.
One by one, they climbed down, leaving the ruin above.
At the bottom, dim emergency lights flickered along concrete walls. A wide space stretched before them, humming faintly with life. And there—dozens of people: civilians, injured Trainers, and two Nurse Joys moving from cot to cot. Murmurs and moans filled the space like a trembling heartbeat.
The moment James stepped into view, all eyes turned.
A few Trainers—wide-eyed and bloodied—rose defensively, Poké Balls ready. One barked a shaky warning, voice rough from exhaustion.
"Stop! Don't come any closer!"
But then a middle-aged woman gasped. "That's Lorelei…! From the tournament!"
Whispers spread like fire.
"It's them…"
"They were fighting in the semifinals…"
"Is that James Morgan…?"
As the recognition settled in, the tension melted. A Nurse Joy approached cautiously, her uniform torn but clean.
"You're safe now. Please—let us help."
James blinked slowly. It was the first kind voice he'd heard since the attack began.
He nodded once, releasing his Poké Balls. Arcanine appeared with a heavy thud, exhausted but alert. Noland and the others followed suit, their Pokémon emerging—scorched, scratched, trembling. The Joys moved quickly, collecting the injured partners with care, guiding their Trainers toward makeshift seating in a corner.
No one spoke.
There was only the distant drip of water and the soft hum of machines struggling to work. They sat, backs against the wall, wounds cleaned, drinks offered, blankets draped over shoulders. The world above might as well have belonged to another time.
Then, the hatch above creaked open again.
Boots echoed down the ladder. A few civilians startled, others held their breath.
The first to emerge were children—three of them, shaking and pale, eyes wide with fear. Behind them, Officer Jenny descended, flanked by two other officers. Her expression was steel, but her arms quickly opened to guide the kids to safety.
And then… more footsteps.
Lance (still in his half-destroyed crimson League uniform, bruises blooming under his eyes) stepped into the room.
Behind him was Clair (still holding her injured Dratini), Hiro (his cap scorched but intact, Magmar's Poké Ball clipped to his belt), and Ferma (quiet as ever, staying near the shadows). At the rear, Kaito moved last—hood low, red eyes catching light but betraying no emotion.
As they entered, a heavy silence fell. Some civilians gasped again, murmuring recognition, but no one dared speak.
A child cried out—and a woman wept as she pulled him into her arms. The moment passed like a slow wave across the room.
Lance's eyes scanned the bunker—and then stopped.
James.
Their eyes locked.
Clair looked up, confused. "Do you know them?"
"Only one," Lance answered. "We've met before."
Lorelei sat upright, watching him carefully. Daisy tensed, but said nothing.
Lance stepped forward slowly. Kaito lingered behind, watching the walls like they might move. Finally, the Dragon-type Trainer reached James's side and offered a short nod.
"We made it out. Barely."
"So did we," James replied quietly.
There was no celebration. No joy. Just the dull relief of the breathing.
Karen approached last, dusting ash from her sleeves, giving Lorelei a sideways glance.
"Fancy seeing you like this."
"Likewise," Lorelei replied. "Still alive?"
"Unfortunately."
The corners of their lips twitched—but not quite smiles.
They sat together—two groups made one. The air was thick with silence, broken only by distant cries of the wounded. It was Daisy who finally asked:
"What are we going to do now?"
Daisy's question lingered in the air like smoke—heavy, unanswered.
James looked down at his hands, still trembling faintly despite the warmth of the blanket. Lorelei didn't answer right away either. Her eyes wandered toward the civilians lying on cots across the room—some bandaged, some weeping, others completely still.
Lance exhaled slowly. His voice broke the silence.
"We can't stay here."
Karen, slouched with her legs crossed, raised an eyebrow. "And go where, exactly? The whole Plateau's burning."
"We can't do nothing," Daisy said. "We've seen what those people are doing. They're organized, and they're using corrupted Pokémon. If we just hide here…"
Erika finished for her. "...then they win."
Ferma leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, her gaze unfocused. "If we had a better idea of what they were trying to do, maybe we could stop it."
"They're not just attacking," Noland said, shaking his head. "They were looking for something. You could see it—they weren't trying to destroy everything. They were targeting places."
Clair, gently stroking her Dratini's head, nodded slowly. "At the Dragon's Den…. My grandfather said the Elite Four had access to something old."
"Maybe Gawain has it," James murmured. "He wasn't at the stadium… but they knew his name."
There was a pause. Then, from a corner of the room, a quiet voice spoke:
"He does."
All heads turned.
Kaito had not joined the conversation until now. He remained seated on the edge of a crate, arms resting on his knees, eyes locked on a point beyond anyone in the room. His tone was flat, precise.
"They're after an artifact in Gawain's possession. Something tied to Sir Aaron."
Lance narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"
Kaito's gaze didn't shift. "I heard it. In their base. They weren't subtle. They said the 'Iron Guardian' has the key. They meant Gawain."
Karen tilted her head. "So they're after a weapon?"
"Or something worse," Kaito replied. "They're not just hunters. They have a purpose—and they're willing to flood this place with monsters to get what they want."
Erika hesitated, then looked at Daisy. "Is your father still here? He would know what's going on."
Daisy shook her head. "He got called back to Cerulean. He left yesterday—said there was unrest near the bay."
"So even the cities are in trouble," Ferma muttered.
Hiro crossed his arms. "That explains why no one's coming. If the other Gyms are under attack…"
"They are," Kaito said.
This time, he looked at James. Not with warmth, but with a mutual understanding—like two people who had walked through the same fire.
"I saw maps in their system. Pins on Saffron, Cerulean, Fuchsia. They're spreading out. And no one's ready."
A heavy silence returned. Only the sounds of quiet sobs and machines filled the background.
Then Lance stood up, his voice steady.
"We can't let them move unchecked. Not here. Not anywhere."
"But we're not in shape to fight head-on," Lorelei reminded him, gesturing toward the still-healing Pokémon in the corner. "We can't win like this."
"Then we don't fight alone," James said, finally rising. "We get the civilians out. We find Gawain. We split up."
The idea took root instantly.
Jenny, who had been listening silently near the door, stepped forward. "I can guide a group. There are still people up there—some trapped, others hiding. We need runners to escort them back here."
"I'll go," Daisy said immediately. "Erika and I can help move people—our teams are fast and small."
"I'll join too," Clair added, clutching her Dratini tightly.
Ferma sighed. "I'm not a fighter, but I know how to keep someone from bleeding out. I'll help the rescue team."
"And the rest of us," Lance said, "we'll find Gawain."
"We should stick to threes," Noland suggested. "Small enough to move, big enough to defend."
Jenny gave a sharp nod. "Good. The side entrance is exposed. Move in pairs until you clear the street. If things get bad—scatter."
Karen cracked her knuckles. "Can't wait."
Kaito said nothing.
He simply stood, walked toward the center of the room, and looked toward the tunnel that led up to the ruined streets.
"Let's not waste time."
The air inside the bunker grew tense as the newly formed teams gathered near the exit tunnel. The flickering emergency lights above cast long shadows—reminders of everything they had lost, and what still might be saved.
Officer Jenny handed out compact communicators salvaged from the League equipment room. "These should work underground and for a few blocks topside," she said. "Use them only if absolutely necessary. If they trace the signal, we lose the whole safe zone."
James clipped one to his belt and exchanged a glance with Lorelei. Their Pokémon were still recovering, but the fight ahead left little room for hesitation. Arcanine stood beside James once again—wounded but steady. Lapras, now coated with temporary ice armor to shield her sore flanks, exhaled slowly, ready to follow Lorelei into the unknown.
Near the tunnel's mouth, Daisy adjusted her headband and gave Erika a soft nudge. "Stick close. If anything happens, you grab the kids and go."
Erika nodded, face pale but resolute. "We'll be okay."
Ferma, leaning near the stairwell entrance, glanced toward Clair, who was nervously adjusting Dratini's scarf. "You're going to trip on your nerves," Ferma muttered, more out of habit than cruelty.
Clair smiled faintly. "Maybe. But I still want to help."
At the center of the room, Kaito checked the bindings on his gloves. His Spiritomb hovered behind him like a quiet sentinel, its flickering aura casting violet light along the walls. He hadn't spoken again, but everyone could feel his presence—detached, but watching.
Lance looked over the group. His eyes met Karen's, then Hiro's.
"This might be the last organized thing we do for a while," he said. "So make it count."
Karen smirked. "That was almost motivational."
Jenny took the lead, walking toward the half-buried ladder at the bunker's end. "Search and rescue team first," she ordered. "We'll send updates if we reach a safe sector."
Daisy gave James a quick thumbs-up. "See you soon."
"You better," he answered.
Erika, Clair, and Ferma followed, each accompanied by their Pokémon. Slowbro, Gloom, Seadra, Dratini, and Mantine all pressed forward with quiet determination, ducking into the tunnel one by one until the dim light swallowed them.
Once they were gone, the silence returned.
Now only those who would walk toward the fire remained.
Noland looked at James and nodded. "We can flank from the east and work our way up the executive offices. If Gawain's still in the building, that's where they'll have him cornered."
James agreed. "J and L were coordinating something. They're not just muscle. They're after something specific."
"I'll take point," Kaito said flatly. "I've been through parts of the underground they haven't locked yet. There's a maintenance shaft that leads straight under the League archives."
Lorelei folded her arms. "We'll need to stay quiet until we strike. No heroics."
Karen glanced toward her. "I think that was directed at you."
"Maybe," Lorelei said with a calm smile, "but it definitely wasn't meant for you."
Lance clapped a hand on James's shoulder. "I'm glad we're on the same side now."
James gave a wry chuckle. "Let's hope we're still saying that tomorrow."
With no more words left to say, they moved toward the exit—one team toward the darkness to rescue the helpless, the other toward the flames to confront the heart of the storm.
And in the bunker, the weight of the silence remained.