Pokemon: Rising From The Dark

The whole old city is vast, and they are scattered widely, but the smell of blood from killing two people will not spread throughout the city, so there is no worry about being discovered.

With the help of Murkrow's night vision and Gastly's ability to move through the shadows, the search for more targets continues. Before they can react, they are easily taken down.

"Four. Based on earlier observations, nine should still be left," the words are muttered in the darkness.

Six.

Eight.

The number of people taken out is counted silently. Originally, there were thirteen, but now only five remain.

At this point, the faint scent of blood lingers in the alleys, and only now do the remaining gang members realize something is wrong.

Using coded signals, the leader gathers the last five together, but the arrogance from before is gone, replaced only by worry and fear.

The leader, more experienced than the others, was once a low-ranking member of a major gang in Goldenrod. After failing to secure a higher position, he ended up forming a small gang of street thugs to survive.

Despite this, he has seen more of the world than the rest.

He knows that in this world, there are prodigies—people who seem young but possess incredible strength. This is why he always acts cautiously, avoiding unnecessary risks. It is this caution that has kept him alive in a city like Goldenrod.

But this time, he may have made a fatal mistake.

"Boss, what do we do? This time, we really messed up," one of the gang members stammers, trembling.

The boss's face is grim. Even after being cautious time and time again, a miscalculation was made. Looking at the remaining four subordinates, who are staring at him for guidance, he clenches his teeth.

"Dammit. We've already lost people, but as long as we make it out of the old city, we'll be fine. Once we reach a crowded area, there's no way he'll dare to attack us!"

His instincts tell him to fight, but reason says otherwise. Right now, with their remaining strength, they are no match for their pursuer.

Live to fight another day—retreat.

But escaping will not be so easy.

With Murkrow and Gastly leading the way, the last five targets are quickly located. Hidden in the darkness, every word of their exchange is overheard, and a smirk appears in response.

"Picking a fight with the wrong person has consequences. You can't just walk away. Once you become an enemy, death is the only outcome."

Following them at a steady pace, the pursuit continues.

They are on high alert, making it unwise to strike immediately. Only when their guard drops will the moment to strike come.

Slowly, they advance, scanning their surroundings. Nearly ten minutes pass before they finally approach the edge of the old city, where the bright lights of the streets beckon.

"Finally, we're almost out. That was terrifying—I'm never coming back here again," the most cowardly of the group sighs in relief, patting his chest.

His words ease some of the tension. Just one more alley, and they will be out.

One last alley and safety awaits. This is what they all believe.

After ten minutes of heightened awareness, their focus wavers.

Now is the time to strike.

There is no hesitation. A sudden movement, shadows flickering, and Murkrow and Gastly dart forward.

"Gastly, use Hypnosis! Murkrow, go for Wing Attack—don't give him a chance to fight back!" The command is sharp and precise.

"Caw!"

Hearing the order, Gastly speeds up, slipping through the shadows at full speed. In a blink, it appears before the five men.

Without giving them a chance to react, Hypnosis is unleashed, aiming directly at the humans.

Panic flashes across their faces, but it is too late. Their bodies feel heavy, and their eyes struggle to stay open. One by one, they collapse into sleep.

The leader, the only one reacting fast enough, curses internally. Desperate, he bites his tongue hard, the sharp pain jolting him back to awareness. Instinct kicks in, and he rolls away, narrowly dodging Murkrow's attack.

Murkrow doesn't chase but instead swiftly targets and eliminates the remaining Pokémon.

With the others down, Gastly turns its attention to the leader's Pokémon, engaging it in battle. Despite the strength difference, Gastly's agility and evasiveness make it a frustrating opponent.

Still on the ground, the leader watches as his Pokémon is overwhelmed. His face twists in horror as realization dawns—his gang is finished.

Fury surges through him, the instincts of someone who once survived the underworld kicking in. His free hand reaches for a hidden dagger at his waist.

But someone is faster.

A foot slams down, pinning his other hand to the ground.

Looking up, he sees the young man standing over him—not dull, not weak, but terrifyingly cold. Those sharp, emotionless eyes stare at him like a predator looking at prey.

The pressure on his hand is unbearable, as if caught in an iron vice. No amount of struggling frees him.

"Murkrow, finish that Pokémon."

Murkrow immediately joins the battle with Gastly. With the two of them working together, the leader's Pokémon is defeated in seconds, unable to put up any resistance.

The leader watches in despair as his Pokémon collapses. His mind screams at him to act. Summoning the last of his strength, he grips his dagger and thrusts it toward the foot pinning him down.

Too slow.

A blade flashes. The dagger in his hand is knocked away, and pain shoots through his arm. A scream tears from his throat as he loses his grip.

Leaning down, those cold eyes meet his again. A voice, devoid of emotion, delivers the final words he will ever hear.

"In your next life, don't pick fights with people you shouldn't."

The dagger is pulled free and, with a single, swift motion, cuts across his throat.

His lifeless body is kicked aside. Every Pokeball from his belt is taken, locked, and stored away. Any space items and valuables are searched for and collected.

The gang members' Pokémon hold no interest, but the leader's Pokémon has some value.