Seeing Julian come out safe and sound, the four of them were genuinely happy—though, alongside that happiness, there was also a trace of disappointment.
After all, they'd fully envisioned themselves descending like divine saviors to rescue Julian from the clutches of Wyvernia, pulling him out of despair.
Ember had even fantasized about the scene: Julian, overwhelmed with gratitude, clinging to her leg and begging to become her devoted follower. Then she'd kick him away with an arrogant scoff, telling him it was far "too late" for that now.
In her daydream, Julian would beg and plead so much that she'd finally, reluctantly, agree to let him be her follower.
But now? That beautiful dream was shattered.
"Why do I feel like you four seem… a little disappointed?"
Looking at them, Julian wondered if he was imagining things—they didn't seem quite as overjoyed to see him as he'd expected.
"You're overthinking it! Of course we're happy to see you," Asher immediately blurted out, though his nervous tone made the statement less than convincing.
Julian narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Asher, who nudged Rowan hard with his elbow and said, "Right?"
"Y-yeah, yeah, we're absolutely thrilled," Rowan said with a forced smile.
"…You weren't planning to rescue me just so you could gloat about it afterward, were you?"
Julian stared at the four of them, voice dripping with suspicion.
Having spent over half a year with them in the secret realm—even though he'd acted alone for much of it—he knew them all well enough.
Sure enough, the moment he said it, their expressions stiffened—even the usually stoic Pierce glanced away guiltily.
"My sincerest apologies, oh mighty saviors. How thoughtless of me to deny you the chance. Next time, I'll make sure to get captured properly so you can play heroes."
Julian grinned, eyes crinkling with amusement.
All jokes aside, he was genuinely moved that they had come for him.
After all, this was Havenburg, the capital of Wyvernia—and these four weren't ordinary people. Each of them carried significant status—three were heirs to Major families, and one was a key military prospect.
All of them were potential future Champions.
If this operation had failed—whether they were captured or killed—it would've been a catastrophic loss, both for Drakoria and for their families.
So the fact that they'd come at all meant they'd risked everything.
Julian didn't say it out loud, though. He wasn't the sentimental type—he'd just keep it in mind. Someday, if any of these four got caught, he'd go bail them out himself.
The four: (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
After some playful bickering, the group settled.
Meanwhile, the intelligence operative Bellsprout had been quietly communicating with their homeland and other agents. Suddenly, he lowered his comm device and turned to Julian.
"Julian—hypothetically, how strong of an opponent could you currently defeat… or at least hold off?"
His expression was grave, clearly indicating something serious had happened.
"With Metagross and Moltres working together, they can defeat an average early-stage Champion," Julian mused. "Against a mid-stage Champion, my entire team could hold them off without issue."
Champions existed on an entirely different level compared to Pseudo-Champions, with combat power increasing exponentially. Against such beings, only those of equal strength could stand a chance.
And Julian's Metagross and Moltres, teaming up, could already take down an early-stage Champion in a two-on-one?
'That's just broken.'
The four of them stared at Julian, secretly shocked that his team could actually beat a Champion-level opponent.
They didn't doubt his claim—Julian never exaggerated when it came to strength. If anything, he tended to undersell himself.
"Wait, does Wyvernia even have any Champions left? Didn't Andrew die?" Asher asked.
Bellsprout's reaction suggested otherwise—there were still Champion-level Pokémon in Wyvernia.
"Are you dumb?" Rowan scoffed. "The past Champions of Wyvernia all died of old age. Their trainers may be gone, but their Pokémon are still around."
He sometimes wondered how Asher's brain even functioned.
It was the same for their own Major clans: none of them currently had a Champion-level trainer, but they'd produced Champions in the past—more than one, in fact.
Champion-level Pokémon had lifespans measured in 'millennia'.
Even after their trainers passed, these Pokémon often remained, serving as the family's ultimate safeguard, hidden away as their most powerful legacy.
After all, most Champion-level Pokémon chose to protect their late trainer's family out of loyalty.
So, if a Major family seemed to decline, you might think you could push them around—and they might tolerate it. But if you pushed too far and really tried to destroy them?
Well, then some ancient, hidden Champion-level "ancestor" Pokémon would promptly 'educate' you on the meaning of regret.
A clan's Champion-level Pokémon was its foundation—and in a sense, part of Drakoria's foundation too.
And the same applied for Wyvernia.
Wyvernia typically produced only one Champion per generation. Apart from Andrew—who was killed by John—the Champions before him all died natural deaths.
Which meant all their Champion-level Pokémon were still kept by their respective families.
Now that Wyvernia was facing a national crisis, there were bound to be a few families with a sense of national pride willing to step up.
What's more, Isaac, the current President, was backed by the Five Star Group, Wyvernia's largest chaebol. That conglomerate had produced three Champions in the past.
The reason Bellsprout asked Julian about his combat capabilities?
Because the Five Star Group had already dispatched two Champion-level Pokémon to support Isaac.
As for why they didn't send more, when it was obvious that the Five Star Group must have more than just two Champion-level Pokémon in reserve.
The reason, of course, was that the Five Star Group didn't dare.
Even though those Champion-level Pokémon originally belonged to trainers from the Five Star Group's founding family, those Pokémon chose to protect them out of sentiment—not obligation.
Never assume they owed you anything.
Most Pokémon, especially the powerful ones, pledge loyalty solely to their own trainers. Even the trainer's descendants often struggle to earn their recognition.
Otherwise, when a Champion-level trainer died, their Pokémon could simply be handed down to their children.
But in reality, the Pokémon would never accept them. If a trainer tried to force their Pokémon to obey their children before passing, the likely outcome would be the Pokémon leaving outright once the trainer was gone.
Many families have attempted this—trying to claim the Pokémon of their fathers or ancestors—but not a single one has succeeded.
Some even resorted to coercion, only to nearly face annihilation at the paws of the very Pokémon they sought to control.
So, over time, every Major clan learned a hard truth:
A powerful Pokémon served only one trainer in its lifetime. After that trainer's death, it would never pledge itself to another.
Your only option was not to provoke them—instead, you housed them comfortably, treated them with respect, and let them be.
Then, if one day disaster strikes and you can't protect your family, you invite them to step in.
But each intervention erodes the Pokémon's lingering affection for the family. So unless absolutely necessary, their power remains dormant.
For the Five Star Group to dispatch two Champion-level Pokémon in support of Isaac?
They've already paid a steep price.
*****
Upto 30 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/ReduxMagister