The wagon rolled through Bellmire's western gate just as the afternoon sun crowned the rooftops in golden light. The city opened up like a labyrinth of sandstone and slate curved bridges crossing narrow canals, market stalls stacked with wild fruits and dyed fabrics, and bell towers peeking through clouds of dandelion puffs drifting lazily in the breeze.
Criers called out the day's headlines near the fountains.
A boy strummed a lute atop a crate while a Vileplume swayed beside him.
Three children dashed past the wagon, giggling, with a Lillipup trailing behind them wearing a red scarf like a cape.
Shion's mouth hung slightly open.
His eyes darted from building to building, tower to tower, each twist of the cart revealing a new wonder an open-air bakery with bread shaped like Gogoat horns, a glasswork stall selling Poké Ball charms, a Pokémon grooming shop with fountains for contests.
He had seen towns before Ternstone's mines, Hartwick's markets but nothing like this.
Bellmire was alive.
"I take it this ain't your usual scenery?" Dunlin said with a grin, pulling the cart's reins as Mudsdale snorted lazily.
Shion blinked. "I… yeah. This is a bit different from Riverleaf."
Bidoof popped up from a basket of apples, blinking slowly as he took in the city. "Behold," he muttered, though in truth he just sneezed and flopped over with a loud snore.
Kiba, released beside the wagon for the final stretch, padded silently along the road, golden eyes wide with curiosity. He sniffed the air with caution and low excitement, his tail flicking warily at the bustle of people and Pokémon.
"You'll want to get used to the crowd," Jareth called back from beside the driver's bench. "Ravios is five times this size. Maybe more."
Shion adjusted the strap of his bag and nodded slowly. "Then I've got some catching up to do."
As they turned down a shaded alley between two bell towers, the cart slowed.
"Alright," Dunlin said, tugging the reins to stop. "This'll be home base for now. I'll book the rooms, set up supply runs, and figure out when we're rolling out again."
He stretched his arms overhead and cracked his neck. "But no rush. Ravios won't run away."
Fena hopped down from the back, adjusting her satchel and scanning the nearby shopfronts.
"I've got an alchemy merchant to find," she said. "Supposedly the best sourroot tincture in the kingdom is sold in Bellmire. Also, I'm owed a potion ingredient delivery from that pink-haired swindler in Avia."
"You mean Junra?" Jareth said. "She nearly sold me acid instead of burn salve."
Fena smirked. "Well, at least it worked."
Shion laughed softly.
Fena turned to him. "You gonna wander, country boy?"
"I'll follow Jareth for now," Shion said. "There's something I need to do."
"Good," she said, giving him a wink. "Time you earned some silver on that name of yours."
And with that, she vanished into the crowd.
---
Jareth led him through the busy side streets and across a canal bridge flanked by lanterns carved into Dragonite heads. The closer they came to the center of the city, the louder the buzz of conversation and foot traffic became.
And then they saw it.
The Ravelle Grand Adventurer's Guild.
The building towered above the plaza like a temple stone pillars etched with swirling symbols of elemental energy, massive oak doors reinforced with black iron, and banners bearing the guild sigil flapping proudly in the wind. The entire structure was wrapped in ivy, with Poké Ball-shaped lanterns illuminating its many arched windows.
People bustled in and out in waves adventurers of every shape, size, and experience. Some wore gleaming armor. Others draped in cloaks adorned with badges. Their Pokémon partners stood tall beside them a massive Salamence, a gliding Staraptor, a galloping Arcanine.
Shion stopped at the base of the stairs, suddenly unsure.
Most of these people didn't look like Bronze-rank rookies.
They looked like warriors. Like the kind of adventurers he'd read about in stories.
He felt the weight of Golurk's Poké Ball in his bag. Kiba stood beside him, ears alert.
Jareth gave him a heavy pat on the back.
"Get used to feeling small," he said. "You won't stay that way forever."
Shion nodded, quietly grateful.
Then, he walked through the doors.
The interior was chaos organized chaos.
A towering quest board dominated the far wall, its parchment-covered surface glowing faintly with typing runes. To one side, a group of Silver-rank adventurers were laughing over mugs of cider, their Machoke arm-wrestling a Blaziken.
To the left, a pair of uniformed staff guided a heavily bandaged traveler toward the infirmary wing. Everywhere else: conversation, movement, purpose.
The reception counter was a long stone slab adorned with polished tiles depicting each of the known elemental types. Clerks in formal gray-blue uniforms typed at crystal screens or spoke to adventurers in calm, practiced voices.
Shion inhaled slowly and stepped forward.
He could feel the stares not of malice, but of curiosity.
He remembered the first time he'd registered as an adventurer back in Avia Hallow ..accidentally, nervously stumbling
This time was different.
He was here on purpose.
He approached the counter. A middle-aged clerk with tied-back gray hair looked up and smiled politely.
"Welcome to the Bellmire Adventurer's Guild," she said. "What can I help you with?"
Shion cleared his throat.
"I… I want to apply for a rank advancement," he said, forcing the words out.
The clerk's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She reached for a device embedded into the desk.
"Name?"
"Shion. Bronze rank. Registered in Avia Hallow."
She nodded and took his adventurer's card, inserting it into a brass slot carved with a lightning bolt sigil.
A low hum passed through the counter.
She read from the glowing screen. "You've completed over a dozen guild tasks, participated in a major site recovery
Shion flinched. "uhh… yes."
She tapped a few keys.
"Your rank test is scheduled for this afternoon," she said. "You'll report to the eastern training chamber by the guild hall's inner gate. Bring your full team. You'll be observed."
Shion's mouth felt dry. "What kind of test will it be?"
She smiled sweetly.
"You'll see."
He stepped away from the counter, fingers tight around the card now slotted back into his belt pouch. The quest board loomed ahead filled with high-tier requests: corrupted sightings, supply escorts, subjugation missions.
He noticed a Bronze quest board section.
It was nearly empty.
He was out of place.
He knew it.
But he wasn't running.
He walked out into the plaza and found Jareth waiting near a statue of a Flygon coiled around a broken sword.
"You get it scheduled?"
Shion nodded. "Later today."
Jareth tilted his head. "Nervous?"
"A bit."
"You should be," he said with a grin. "That means you're doing something important."
He gestured toward the side road. "C'mon. We're getting you proper armor. That coat of yours is one bad Flame Wheel from becoming rags."
Shion looked down at the worn leather armor he'd been using since brookmill.
"Yeah," he said. "Probably time."
As they turned down the forge street, Kiba padded after them, and Bidoof muttered something unintelligible from his perch on Shion's pack.
Bellmire had welcomed them with open gates.
Now it was time to prove he belonged.
---
The forge district of Bellmire was loud.
Every few steps came with the clang of hammer on steel, the hiss of quenched metal, or the rhythmic pulse of bellows feeding fire. Smoke drifted in lazy streaks across the cobbled streets, dancing above chimneys and open-air smithing stations. The smell of oil, iron, and scorched leather filled the air like incense.
Shion tugged at the edge of his scarf, eyes wide as he followed Jareth through the maze of storefronts.
"This is…" Shion muttered, "a lot."
"You'll get used to it," Jareth said, barely glancing back. "First thing you need is a good smith. And Bellmire's got six of 'em worth trusting. We'll go to mine."
Jareth pushed open a heavy iron door set into the base of a stone tower. The inside was darker, the light shaped by the glow of heated forges. Tools hung from every beam. Armor stands lined the walls chestplates, shoulder guards, gauntlets, boots all built to survive more than just wild grass-type scratches.
A tall woman with soot-darkened skin and copper-blonde hair looked up from her anvil. Her face lit up.
"Jareth . Thought I smelled Ternstone forge dust," she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Kael," Jareth said. "Got someone who needs a full suit. Light, mobile. He's quick."
She eyed Shion. Then eyed his coat.
Then winced.
"Burn marks. Cut lines. Water damage. Is this an armor or a trauma record?"
"It's done well enough," Shion said defensively, glancing down at the familiar patchwork of his old leather jacket. It had been with him since the journey began since Riverleaf.
Kael crossed her arms. "Done enough, sure. But it's done."
---
The next hour passed in a blur of measurements, fittings, and options.
Jareth leaned against the wall while Kael and two apprentices guided Shion through the process light armor with metal reinforcement on the chest, shoulders, and knees; thick but flexible travel leather for movement; reinforced boots with added grip.
"Something green," Shion said at one point.
Kael raised a brow. "Why green?"
He touched the scarf around his neck.
"It's a reminder," he said. "Where I started."
Kael smiled at that. "Good reason."
---
By the time it was done, Shion stepped before the forge mirror with something unfamiliar clinging to him.
He looked better. Sharper. The armor wasn't extravagant just practical, well-made, shaped to his frame. But it changed something. The farm boy was there… but buried beneath the layers of travel and survival.
He ran a hand over the chestplate, then down the new utility belt.
Kiba gave a low, approving growl from beside him.
Even Bidoof, watching from atop a helmet rack, gave a single blink and a snort, which might've meant "acceptable."
Jareth stepped beside him and gave a rare, approving nod.
"Now you look like someone who knows what he's doing."
"I'm not sure I do," Shion said softly.
"Doesn't matter," Jareth replied. "Most don't. The armor doesn't prove anything. You do."
When they left the forge, the sun was already lower in the sky, casting Bellmire's towers in honey-colored light. Jareth stretched and rolled his shoulders.
"I've got errands. Guild business," he said. "You'll be fine?"
Shion nodded. "Yeah. I'll walk around a bit."
Jareth gave him a short wave. "Don't get robbed."
"I won't "shion reasured him as they part way
Shion wandered through the city for nearly an hour, letting his boots take him wherever they pleased. The buzz of the crowd, the clash of cultures, the mixture of accents and fashion Bellmire was like a thousand towns stitched together.
But then, something caught his eye.
Down a narrow alley, partially hidden between a tannery and an herb shop, was a crooked wooden sign shaped like a Poké Ball. No windows. Just a single, red-painted door with worn iron hinges.
The symbol above it had no words.
Just a silent cage etched into the wood.
Curious, Shion stepped inside.
The smell hit him first musty air, sweat, old food, and something sour, like rotting moss. The interior was dim, lit by a few flickering crystal orbs that hung from chains on the ceiling. Metal cages lined both walls, stacked in pairs like bookshelves.
Inside each caged Pokémon is Some small Pidgey, Zigzagoon, Rattata.
Some rarer had Absol, Phantump, even a small, shivering Gible.
They were all malnourished.
Thin. Tired. Some bore healing injuries or matted fur. Others barely moved at all.
Shion stood frozen near the doorway.
He heard breathing, shallow and hollow. Whimpers. Scratching claws.
Then came a voice, slurred but direct.
"You buying, or just gawking?"
From the back of the shop, a man stepped forward. Heavyset, balding, dressed in a vest two sizes too small. His eyes were sharp, his smile cold.
Shion flinched. "I… I didn't know what this place was."
"It's a Pokemon sale ," the man said quickly. "All legal. If you're not here to purchase, then move along. These aren't pets. They're products."
Shion's stomach turned.
"Buy Pokémon?" he echoed, barely above a whisper.
"People buy 'em all the time," the man said with a shrug. "Not everyone catches. Some prefer guarantees. Battle-bred. Rare types. The usual."
Shion looked over at a cage holding a shivering Sneasel. Its claws were dulled. Its fur was patchy.
His voice was quieter now. "Do they… always look like this?"
The man narrowed his eyes. "They're fed. Watered. It's not a spa."
Kiba, standing just inside the door, gave a low growl. The man's gaze turned to him.
"Hmm. That one's yours?"
Shion nodded warily.
The man squinted. "Color's off. Orange?"
Shion quickly fumbled the answer. "He, uh… he plays in dirt. A lot. Doesn't wash. It just… stuck."
The man scoffed and lost interest.
Shion wandered deeper into the rows, passing cages of Growlithe, Houndour, even a wounded Aron missing one horn.
Each Pokémon met his eyes. Some flinched. Some didn't look up at all.
He wasn't going to buy anything. He shouldn't.
He couldn't save them all.
But leaving without doing anything felt wrong.
Then he saw it.
In the corner, tucked beneath a shelf of metal bowls and old rope, sat a small cage barely lit by the crystal glow above.
Inside is a Treecko.
It sat motionless, its green skin dulled to an unhealthy grayish hue. One eye was swollen. Its limbs were folded tight to its body, too thin to suggest regular meals.
It looked… done. Like it had stopped hoping.
Shion stepped closer.
The Treecko didn't move.
The man's voice came again, annoyed. "That one? You buying it or just breathing all over it?"
Shion hesitated. "How much?"
The man grinned. "Rare one. Royal class. One gold coin."
Shion's eyes widened. "A gold coin?"
"Too steep? Then get out."
Shion looked again at the Treecko. It still hadn't moved. Just stared blankly at nothing.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out all he had silver and copper pieces.
No gold.
He counted quickly. It was barely enough.
The man grunted. "Fine. Close enough."
He unlocked the cage with a lazy twist and tossed a Poké Ball toward Shion. "Don't say I never did you a favor. Now get out."
---
Shion left the shop quietly.
Kiba followed, tail stiff, ears flat.
Outside, the wind had picked up slightly. The sun was dipping lower now, casting long shadows across the cobbled road.
Shion held the Poké Ball in his hand, thumb against the activation switch.
He walked to a small bench near a well, sat down, and activated the ball.
With a faint flash of red light, the Treecko appeared.
It didn't react.
It stood still, swaying slightly from weakness. Its breathing was shallow, its head tilted down.
"Hey," Shion said gently, crouching low. "It's okay."
Treecko didn't answer.
Shion opened his bag and dug through his supplies. He found a Pecha berry, then a Sitrus. He placed them gently on the ground.
After a long moment, Treecko crawled forward and bit weakly into the Sitrus berry.
Shion didn't speak again. Just sat there, watching, silent.