On two spotless, white little beds, Sada and Turo lay side by side.
Their eyes were shut, their breathing a bit rapid.
Even with the crude conditions, it was clear that Moru had done all he could to disinfect and dress the professors' wounds.
Larry, who occasionally helped as a relief doctor's assistant and thus knew a bit about medical care, finished his examination and concluded, "The wounds haven't healed for a long time, and blood loss has weakened their immunity, which is why they're in this sleep-like state. In short, they have a fever."
"If we treat the wounds, their condition should improve. Lucas, we'll have to rely on your Comfey."
Meeting Larry's gaze, Lucas gave a slight nod, took out a Poké Ball, and said softly, "Comfey, I'm counting on you to heal them and remove any abnormal status."
"Fey~"
Comfey's petite form shimmered out of the red light, swaying slightly as its worried eyes fell on Sada and Turo.
A pale pink healing energy spread over the bandaged wounds beneath their wrappings, invigorating the tissue and speeding recovery.
At the same time, a soothing floral fragrance wafted through the air. The oppressive weight that had felt like a mountain pressing on Sada and Turo finally eased, bringing a long-lost sense of relief.
Larry flared his nostrils; even his body, hollowed out by long overtime, felt newly revitalized under the floral aromatherapy. The dark circles under his eyes seemed noticeably lighter.
Squinting in enjoyment, Larry was already considering a trip to Alola to catch a Comfey of his own. He'd heard Alola-born Comfey were the most delicate, with especially renowned aromatherapy—just like Lucas's Comfey.
He wondered if Chairwoman Geeta would approve his leave request.
Although Comfey was reasonably strong, it wasn't at the level of Xerneas or Ho-Oh—able to raise the dead and restore flesh to bone. Healing would still take some time.
Lucas let Larry enjoy himself and led Moru out of Observation Station 4.
Walking down the minimalist corridor of Station 4, Lucas asked, "Mr. Moru, do you know much about Raging Bolt and those other Pokémon?"
Moru scratched his head sheepishly. A textbook researcher, he wasn't good at socializing and had a touch of social anxiety; even his voice was a little timid. "N-not really. Mostly just what I read in the Scarlet/Violet Book. Before coming to Area Zero, I thought they were all creatures that Heath made up."
"Even the info on Raging Bolt was something the professors told me right before they fell unconscious. Because they look so similar to modern Pokémon, people usually call these monsters in Area Zero 'Paradox Pokémon.'"
"I see."
Lucas nodded lightly. It seemed the two professors had already categorized these Pokémon.
After finishing the topic of Paradox Pokémon, Moru suddenly asked, "Mr. Lucas, what are we going outside to do now?"
He held a genuine reverence for powerful trainers. Even though the other man was clearly younger, Moru still chose to use honorifics.
Lucas chuckled. "Nothing much. While the professors are being treated, I want to try communicating with the Paradox Pokémon—or taming them."
"Eh?"
Moru's mouth fell slightly open. He was completely stunned.
What did he just hear?
Communicate with—or tame—those violent Paradox Pokémon? Why would Lucas even think of that?
Those things attack on sight! Unlike modern, intelligent Pokémon, they're bloodthirsty beasts!
Following Lucas out of the station, Moru began to regret it. Was this trainer planning to feed him to Raging Bolt?
…
Its memory lingered in a deep, shadowy fissure in the earth.
Raging Bolt only remembered that after a wave of excruciating pain, a surging torrent of energy overwhelmed it, and it completely lost consciousness.
Afterward, it sensed that something had bound it. It couldn't move, couldn't act, couldn't break free.
It was a novel sensation—and an unprecedented humiliation.
It admitted that it was no match for that blue one. It had no complaints about losing. In a world of the strong devouring the weak, it had accepted—just before blacking out—that its powerful self would soon become another creature's meal.
But the opponent didn't eat it. Instead, they restrained it. For a proud dragon, that was an unforgivable insult.
When it saw the light again, Raging Bolt immediately let out a threatening dragon's roar at the presence before it.
Kill it, carve it up, or fight again—whatever. It would never accept the humiliation of being bound—
Then Raging Bolt saw the four Pokémon before it, all cracking their knuckles and looking rather ill-intentioned.
No need to mention that blue powerhouse who had defeated it.
An orange, pot-bellied fat dragon had Dragon Claws gleaming with a sharpness that made Raging Bolt's heart quail. A green long serpent had roots swaying around it, thicker than its own neck. And a small, doll-like Pokémon gathered around itself a pink energy that also made Raging Bolt's heart tremble.
Raging Bolt's roar dwindled. "..."
It seemed... it might not be able to afford provoking this lot.
Seeing its reaction, Lucas's eyes gleamed. So his read during the battle had been right—this one was different from Roaring Moon; it retained a considerable degree of intelligence.
That would make communication much easier.
Borrowing the intimidating presence of Swampert and the others, Lucas smiled, playing the fox borrowing the tiger's might. "Let's talk, Raging Bolt."
Watching the four Pokémon warily, Raging Bolt blinked. Raging Bolt—was that what it was being called?
Hiding behind Lucas in fear, Moru mustered his courage to sneak a glance upward, and noticed the intelligence flickering in Raging Bolt's eyes. His expression changed.
Was he seeing things?
Why did this Raging Bolt look like it was thinking!?
From Raging Bolt's expression, Lucas also inferred a fact—
Amazing!
This ancient Pokémon could actually understand his words!
The initial plan in his head—having Serperior and the others beat Raging Bolt to a pulp—was postponed. A new plan took shape. Lucas spoke again: "We'll call a temporary truce. I'll have them stop attacking you. In exchange, you'll tell me why you were lingering around Observation Station 4—and why you didn't attack the station."
Raging Bolt fell silent. It didn't understand why it could comprehend the short one's speech, but the offer was very tempting.
It had no doubt that, in its heavily injured state, any sudden move would get it killed by these four who were still at their peak.
Having nearly died once, it was surprised to find it was reluctant to part with its still-lingering life.
Maybe that was its weakness, different from its kind. After countless thoughts sprouted, the dragon that should have preferred death to dishonor actually felt fear.
Whether by the instinct for life or by its intelligence, everything told Raging Bolt that it didn't want to die yet. It wanted to live. It wanted to return to the land where it belonged.
In the end, its reason triumphed over draconic pride. It drew in its aura and slowly crouched down its massive body to show it bore no hostility.