Chapter 17: Julia Meloc

  The makeshift infirmary remained shrouded in almost absolute silence, broken only by the firm footsteps of Bruno, who approached a stretcher where a young woman with tanned skin and casually tied hair lay. Kara, still dazed, slowly opened her eyes and perceived the presence of the firmly built man. His clothes were torn in some places and a makeshift bandage surrounded part of his waist. She seemed uncomfortable, but still sat up enough to observe the high-ranking member of the Fighter Clan.

  "Can you speak?" Bruno's voice was cold and his analytical gaze, sharp.

  Kara frowned and placed her hands on the edge of the stretcher to straighten herself:

  “Depends on what you want to know,” she replied, trying to sound strong, though the slight tremble in her arm betrayed her.

  Bruno kept his arms crossed, his knuckles hardened from countless battles. He exhaled sharply, a hint of impatience escaping with his breath:

  “Don’t pretend. I know you’re tired, but I need answers. What was that… power you used in your arm? It turned dark blue, with glowing light-blue veins. It seemed like some kind of Aura Infusion.”

  Kara lowered her gaze for a few seconds. Her lips trembled slightly as if debating whether to respond. Finally, she shrugged with feigned indifference:

  “It’s something I’ve always been able to do. I don’t have some grand secret to tell you.”

  Bruno raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes. As someone used to reading opponents’ body language, it was obvious Kara was lying—or at least hiding something important.

  “Don’t take me for a fool. It’s impossible to master that level of aura without rigorous training. And without guidance from my clan? Even less so.”

  The young woman clenched her teeth and looked away, clicking her tongue in frustration:

  “I’m telling the truth: I’ve been able to do it for as long as I can remember.”

  “Not convincing,” Bruno let his arms drop to his sides. “I’d love for Sabrina to read your mind right now, but—” he nodded toward another room, “—she’s busy with that girl, Vera. Guess you’re lucky for now.”

  Kara stayed silent, looking in the opposite direction. Her jaw tightened, signaling she had no intention of prolonging the conversation. Bruno scoffed:

  “Fine. Let’s talk about your Pokémon. Starting with your Machop. That species is protected by my clan. Tell me how you got it.”

  The young woman exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple as she recalled something:

  “I was fourteen. I participated in a martial arts tournament. The prize was a specially bred Machop egg, supposedly guaranteed to help its trainer grow strong. I thought one of the favorites would win. I was just there to try my luck…” She paused, measuring her words. “I ended up winning. An old man guarding the egg gave it to me. I never even learned his name. I left before anything else could happen.”

  Bruno tensed slightly and closed his eyes for a moment:

  “I remember that tournament. It was organized so one of my young prodigies could obtain that Machop. But… they failed, and we never found out who won. Looks like it was you.” He glanced at the girl’s bandage. “Who would’ve thought.”

  Kara didn’t respond to his comment. She simply shrugged, dismissing its importance. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before Bruno changed the subject:

  “And the Mankey? I noticed it was fierce but seemed to have a strong bond with you. Where did you get it?”

  The young woman sat up straighter, leaning her back against the wall:

  “A few weeks ago, I traveled alone to train. I ventured into a forest some called the ‘Shadowed Forest.’ There, I encountered three Primeape that attacked me for invading their territory.” A brief grimace crossed her face at the memory. “I fought until I was nearly unconscious, but I managed to assert dominance in that troop. I guess, in their logic, they saw me as strong and decided to give me a baby Mankey that needed care.”

  Bruno looked at the girl with a hint of surprise. He could sense a certain admiration for those creatures in her tone. However, something inside him remained intrigued:

  “So you defeated an entire troop of Primeape… You’ve got guts, and strength that’s not to be underestimated.” He exhaled sharply, recalling the color of her arm. “Still, what interests me most is that aura of yours.” He arched an eyebrow. “I can tell you’re lying about its origin. I’d enter your mind myself if I had psychic abilities.”

  Kara bit her lower lip, looking away:

  “I have nothing more to say to you.”

  Bruno sighed in frustration. He was about to reply when he noticed someone behind him—a staff member entering to announce something. Bruno turned and nodded:

  “We’ll be keeping an eye on you, Kara. I don’t like the idea of a fighter with that kind of strength existing without my clan’s supervision. You’d better not try to escape.”

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  Without waiting for a response, he walked away, leaving her to rest, though a tingling sense of uncertainty lingered in the room.

  Meanwhile, in an adjacent room…

  Vera sat in a metal chair, her arms bound as a precaution. Sabrina observed her with that signature icy gaze, while a faint psychic seal with glowing inscriptions shimmered on the redhead’s forehead. The room was small, with stone walls and a harsh white lamp illuminating every corner without mercy.

  “So, you look at me with hatred,” Sabrina remarked with a sarcastic smirk, taking a step closer. “Don’t like the Psychic Clan’s methods? Or rather, do you hate my father? Interesting.”

  Vera struggled against her restraints, eyes narrowed:

  “You have no right to snoop into my memories.”

  Sabrina tilted her head:

  “I already did—at least the basics. And I found something intriguing: apparently, you’re a bastard from my father’s bloodline. Does that make you my sister?” She snorted. “What a surprise.”

  The hatred on Vera’s face intensified, her features tightening. She tried to raise her voice, but the psychic seal prevented her:

  “I’ll never see you as family. Not you, not him.” She jerked violently, and the seal on her forehead burned briefly, stopping her from using her powers.

  Sabrina approached, placing her hand on the girl’s head with condescending ease:

  “From what I saw in your memories, your mother belonged to a declining psychic family—no visible powers. She was expelled, right? And I know she’s dead.” She smiled with disdain. “Mmm… that must be unpleasant for you. I completely understand why you’d despise us.”

  Vera clenched her teeth, fighting to contain her rage:

  “Don’t… Don’t talk about my mother. And I don’t need your pity.”

  Sabrina tilted her head, her expression frivolous:

  “Pity? I have no interest in getting along with you. But there’s something I urgently need to know: I discovered you know a technique called the Seven Chakras. I want to know where it’s hidden and how you acquired it. Answer me.”

  Vera remained silent, refusing to speak, her gaze filled with murderous intent. Sabrina clicked her tongue in annoyance:

  “I can dig deeper into your mind, though I’d prefer if you talked. So, did you inherit it from your family?” She squinted. “Or did you steal it from somewhere?”

  Vera didn’t answer, but her eyes burned with fury. Sabrina sighed:

  “Fine… I suppose we’ll have plenty of time for this. If you cooperate, I promise I won’t break your mind.” She stared coldly. “Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to use more invasive methods.”

  With those words, Sabrina stepped back, leaving Vera in the room’s dim light. The redhead lowered her head, unable to break free from the seal suppressing her psychic energy.

  In the hall where Aspen’s crystal was kept…

  Agatha stood beside the massive violet mass, running a rudimentary scanner to measure the poison’s density. Nearby, Koga stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the hardened shell. His expression revealed impatience. Outside, part of the League’s security remained alert.

  A dense, toxic aura began to spread through the hallway—a strange, potent force that sent chills down the spines of several guards. Suddenly, a female figure appeared in the doorway, flanked by two Gengar—one belonging to Agatha and another equally sinister-looking. The woman was of average height, with graying hair and dark green attire. Her presence radiated a mixture of rage and experience.

  “Julia…” Agatha murmured, looking up. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  Julia approached without formalities until her eyes met Koga’s. Her lips curled in a sneer of deep-seated hatred:

  “The son of that wretched man. Time hasn’t changed you, Koga. You still reek of stale poison.”

  Koga tilted his head mockingly:

  “Julia Monkshood, my father’s runaway fiancée. Didn’t expect you to still be alive.”

  The woman clenched her fists, one of her Gengar growling softly. With evident disdain, she corrected him:

  “My name is Julia Meloc now.” Her eyes flashed. “Don’t ever say that rotten surname they forced on me.”

  Koga chuckled darkly:

  “Incredible that the grandson of the person who humiliated my father—” his expression turned malicious, “—is the same boy who humiliated my son. I never imagined such poetry.”

  Julia’s gaze darkened as the toxic mist around her thickened.

  “Your bloodline isn’t invincible,” she shot back. “And it doesn’t surprise me that Aspen, with a more human heart, managed to surpass Niko’s arrogance. Is this why you called me, Agatha?”

  Agatha cleared her throat:

  “We need your help to free the boy. He’s trapped in a poison crystal that seems quite complex.”

  Julia's face grew concerned as she approached the massive violet shell.

  "Aspen is there?" She hurried forward, pressing her palms against the hardened surface. "Oh, God, girl, what have you done…?"

  Koga allowed himself a mocking smile.

  "That brat is so insolent that he managed to crystallize his own body. And to think that he's your grandson?" Her eyes shone with malice. "Did you teach him how to manipulate poison? Or did he discover it on his own?"

  Julia didn't take her eyes off her grandson and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, a cloudy mist enveloped her and slowly seeped through the cracks in the crystal, carefully melting it from the inside out.

  Koga whistled softly in admiration.

  "Impressive. It's clear that you didn't waste any time after running away from my father." Her pupils narrowed. This confirms my suspicions: you have developed an advanced technique to control various types of poison. I demand that you hand it over to me. It rightfully belongs to me. The Poison Clan will possess it… or you will regret it.

  Agatha, sensing the growing hostility, intervened:

  “That will not happen, Koga. Julia and her family are under my protection.”

  “You cannot protect her from what rightfully belongs to me,” Koga replied arrogantly. “Sooner or later, that technique will be in the hands of the Poison Clan. Besides, your grandson, Julia, dared to steal a Pokémon from the clan. He will pay for that.”

  Julia’s eyes flashed with sudden fury. The gas she exhaled grew thicker, darkening the room.

  “Enough!” Agatha’s voice thundered, charged with ghostly power. Her Gengar appeared behind her, its eerie smiles spreading. The room filled with tension as the old man's piercing gaze locked onto them both. "I will not witness a massacre. Do you hear me?"

  Julia and Koga's silhouettes did not move, their breathing heavy.

  "If you touch Aspen, you'll wish you were never born," Julia whispered.

  Koga laughed softly, his sharp gaze shining:

  "If it weren't for Agatha, I would have already gutted you. But your poison technique intrigues me. It confirms what I suspected: you've mastered an entire method based on Pokémon toxins. Perfect." His features hardened. "I want it, willingly or not."

  Suddenly, a somber tremor ran through the room. An overwhelming presence filled the space, causing the torches to flicker violently. A serene yet powerful voice echoed from the entrance:

  "Kneel."

  In that instant, a colossal force crushed everyone in the room as if an invisible weight had descended upon them. Koga grunted, resisting the urge to fall to his knees, while Julia staggered, struggling to stay on her feet. Agatha’s eyes widened in surprise, her Gengar disappearing with weak cries under the oppressive pressure. Even the air seemed to groan.

  Lance had entered, flanked by Oak and Gary. The Kanto champion wore his red cape, but his eyes shone with a reptilian glow, an ancient power incomprehensible to most. With a simple wave of his hand, he intensified the crushing force:

  “I said… kneel.”