Outskirts of Oreburgh – One Day Later
They left at dawn.
No goodbyes. No noise. Just the hiss of a closing steel hatch and the sound of boots hitting dirt.
The League would sweep the east. That much was certain. Too many alerts had gone silent all at once—too many handlers left with scrambled logs and no clean footage. Even if the black market didn't know Orion's name, they'd remember his face. Or Tyrunt's.
They couldn't afford to stay.
Elias moved like someone used to fleeing—quiet, steady, eyes always on the horizon. Orion followed with his pack tight across his shoulders and two Poké Balls clipped to his belt.
One housed a battle-scarred Tyrunt with bite marks still visible on his forearms.
The other held a Turtwig bred to obey anyone holding the capsule.
They didn't talk much as they moved. The path northward curved along the edge of a slow-moving river, flanked by trees with golden leaves just beginning to fall. The season was shifting. You could smell it in the air—cool, earthy, a hint of wet bark.
They didn't use the roads. Elias had a map, scratched and worn, and he marked their path off-grid, following broken rail lines and deer tracks.
By mid-afternoon, they stopped at the base of a low ridge where an old transport station had collapsed into itself. A decent place to rest.
Orion released Tyrunt first.
The dinosaur sniffed the air, groaned once, then laid down in the shade without protest.
Then Orion released the other.
The green Poké Ball opened in silence.
Turtwig materialized in a pulse of pale light—larger than most, his shell denser, his stance more rooted. The sunlight caught the edges of his leaf-blade crest, and for a moment he looked like a statue.
Then he blinked.
Sat.
And did nothing.
"Still no response behavior," Orion murmured.
Elias nodded from where he sat on a rusted support beam. "He's waiting for instruction."
Orion walked over and knelt.
"Turtwig."
The Pokémon's eyes flicked to him immediately.
"Show me Tackle."
No hesitation. Turtwig pivoted and dashed into a chunk of broken cement, knocking it aside with clean impact. No grunt. No drama. Just execution.
"Withdraw."
Turtwig dropped into his shell instantly.
"Razor Leaf."
He emerged, flicked his head, and loosed three tight blades of energy into the hillside—each one hitting the same spot.
"Turf's not even disturbed," Elias said. "He compensates for balance without adjusting paw position. That's not normal."
"It's perfect," Orion said flatly.
"Exactly."
Turtwig turned, awaiting the next command.
Orion didn't give one.
He stood, crossed to Tyrunt, and sat beside him in the grass. Tyrunt blinked once, then shifted closer, resting his heavy head against Orion's boot.
The difference between them was jarring.
Tyrunt was a mess. Raw. Loud. Prone to instinct and violence. But he was real. Everything he did, every roar, every bite—it came from somewhere inside.
Turtwig was a machine.
Bigger than average. Stronger. Faster. More controlled. But hollow. Not cruel. Not cold. Just…
Empty.
Like no one had ever asked what he wanted to be.
"I think he's been trained to obey command inputs more than emotional direction," Orion said quietly. "No initiative. No exploration. Just response."
"Too much correction, not enough challenge," Elias agreed. "Some breeders think you can mass-produce elite Pokémon by cutting the personality out."
"Can you?"
Elias shrugged. "Depends on what you think an elite is."
Orion looked back at Turtwig.
The Pokémon hadn't moved.
They camped that night beside the river bend.
Tyrunt refused to enter his capsule, which Orion didn't push. He curled up in the open, muzzle twitching as he drifted in and out of sleep. Turtwig stayed nearby, head low, watching insects skitter across the grass without ever trying to bite or chase them.
It took hours for Orion to realize he hadn't once seen the Pokémon blink independently.
"You ever decide where you're going next?" Elias asked, poking the small fire with a stick.
Orion shook his head. "I've been thinking about it. I don't want to hit another Gym right away. Not until I know what Turtwig can do. Or what Tyrunt still can do."
"Smart," Elias said. "There's a Gym in Eterna City—Grass type. Turtwig would be a bad matchup, but Tyrunt could power through it. There's also Veilstone farther east. That one's tougher—Fighting specialists, lots of footwork and trick movement."
"I don't think Tyrunt's ready for that yet," Orion said.
"Or yourself," Elias added.
Orion nodded. "So Eterna?"
"Eterna's safer. But it's not close. You'll need to cross Mount Coronet or take the long valley trail through the forest basin."
"I'll figure it out," Orion said. "Once we're moving again."
Elias leaned back, watching the firelight flicker across the trees.
"What are you going to do with him?" he asked, nodding toward Turtwig.
Orion looked over.
Turtwig had not moved. Not once.
"I'm going to train him."
"You already know how to do that."
"No," Orion said. "I'm not talking about moves. I mean I'm going to train him to stop waiting to be told what to be."