Standing beside Greninja was a tall woman dressed in a form-fitting black bodysuit, her figure sharp and precise against the night. A black helmet concealed her face entirely. Her long hair swept behind her in the wind, catching the moonlight in a way that was striking without revealing anything at all.
Whispers moved through the gathered watchers before she had even spoken.
That Greninja.
Champion-level Greninja were rare anywhere in the world. Combined with the distinctive attire, most of the people watching from the shadows had already arrived at the same name.
Whitney.
The true leader of the Dragon Sand Society — the largest underground black market organization operating along Huaguo's northeastern border. Like many organizations of its kind, the Dragon Sand Society had long worked the stretch of border territory between Ice City Province in the northeast and the Rakshasa Country beyond it, running smuggling operations and Pokémon trafficking.
The Society's reach and scale were considerable. It had come close to monopolizing every gray-market operation across the entire northeastern region and had built a name for itself that carried internationally. But unlike most organizations in the same space, the Dragon Sand Society had something unusual — a reputation.
They did not prey on the poor. Their business came exclusively from those who could afford it, and they were known, on occasion, to use their earnings to quietly support the struggling communities in the regions they operated through.
The public face of the organization was a man named David — fifty-five years old, originally from Rakshasa Country, powerfully built, and credible enough in that role to deflect most outside scrutiny. Very few people knew the truth: that Whitney, standing here now in Black Dragon City, was the one who actually ran everything.
Whitney was an alias. Her real name, her age, her background — none of it was a matter of record. Only David knew, and he had kept her confidence for years.
She had appeared without warning seven or eight years ago, stepping directly into the position of Vice President of the Dragon Sand Society. The people beneath her were skeptical, and they let her know it. She silenced that skepticism quickly and without drama — through raw strength, decisive action, and a clarity of judgment that was hard to argue with. She had been secure in her position ever since.
Her Greninja had been quasi-Champion level when she first arrived. The Pokémon had grown with her over the years, and it was Champion-level now.
Her specialty was Water and Fairy-types. Beyond Greninja, the other signature Pokémon attributed to her was a Slowking of considerable strength — at minimum quasi-Champion level, though the exact ceiling of its abilities remained unknown to outsiders.
Whitney rarely acted in public and had, until now, never operated outside the northeastern region. For her to appear here, in Black Dragon City on Huaguo's southwestern border — having crossed the breadth of the entire country to be here — told the watchers something. She had come with a purpose. Whether that purpose extended to Black Dragon City's underground market itself was a question that settled uneasily in more than one mind.
The Trainer of Baxcalibur, by contrast, had made no effort whatsoever to hide who he was.
He wore a black trench coat, his dark hair neatly combed, and he had come without a mask. He stood in full view of everyone present with an easy, almost pleasant expression on his face — the kind of composure that came from not particularly caring what anyone thought.
The moment Baxcalibur had appeared, most of them had already known.
Edwin. Head of the Heaven Poaching Group.
He looked younger than his reputation suggested — somewhere around thirty, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and an expression that read, at first glance, as calm and approachable. That impression did not survive much scrutiny. Beneath the composed exterior was a man capable of considerable cruelty when the situation called for it, and it called for it often.
The Heaven Poaching Group had a long reach and a grim one. Unlike organizations that focused primarily on Pokémon trafficking, the Group's largest operations were in human trafficking and organ trade. They were reported to control close to half of the human and organ trafficking industry across the smaller countries of Southeast Myanmar — half of everything moving out of those regions passed through their network at some point.
Their methods ranged from deception to outright abduction. Those deemed valuable were kept and used until they weren't, and then what remained of them was sold elsewhere, piece by piece, at openly listed prices. The operation was thorough and entirely without sentiment.
Despite all of that — or perhaps because of the competence it implied — the Heaven Poaching Group was considered one of the more reliable contractors in Black Dragon City's underground market. They claimed to fulfill any request within twenty-four hours. Specific requests, within three.
Edwin had come into the leadership role early, largely through inheritance. His father had left him not only the organization but a number of powerful Pokémon — including the Baxcalibur that had just shattered the night with an ice pillar. Dragon-type Pokémon had passed through the family across generations, outliving the people who owned them and remaining as a constant thread of power in the lineage. This was, in no small part, why powerful families invested so heavily in Dragon-types — their long lifespan made them one of the most reliable long-term assets any family could hold.
Without that inheritance, reaching Champion level at thirty would have been out of reach for him.
Beyond Edwin and Whitney, others were emerging from the shadows as well. But these figures moved more carefully. Masks, cloaks, obscured faces — people of standing who understood the cost of being identified here. If their names were attached to tonight's events, they would have made an enemy of the Chen Family regardless of whether they succeeded or failed. Success would only make things worse, drawing every ally the Chen Family could call on to retaliate.
So they stayed anonymous. The Pokémon they used were chosen for the same reason — nothing distinctive, nothing traceable.
The tradeoff was obvious. Their caution made them weaker. Compared to Whitney and Edwin, who had come as themselves with their strongest Pokémon, these figures were operating at a clear disadvantage.
All eyes had converged on Whitney now, and on the box in her hands — its surface smeared with blood, the Rainbow Wing inside untouched. The wing was said to carry the hope of life. The irony of it, held in a bloodstained box, sat quietly and did not require comment.
"Whitney." Edwin's gaze fixed on her, and behind his gold-rimmed glasses something cold flickered — apprehension, yes, but also a practiced ruthlessness beneath it. He was not entirely confident facing her and that Greninja, but he was not about to back away. "Hand over the Rainbow Wing. That thing will only bring ruin down on the Dragon Sand Society."
Whitney's voice came back to him flat and filtered — clearly processed through some device built into the helmet, the electronic distortion stripping any recognizable quality from her words. "If you want it, come take it. Talking wastes time."
Edwin let out a short, humorless laugh. "Fair enough." He turned toward the surrounding darkness and raised his voice. "What are you all waiting for? If you keep standing there, she walks away with it. We move together — now."
"Baxcalibur, go!"
The order rang out, and the others broke from cover at the same moment.
Deeper in the jungle, away from the firelight and the chaos, Jacob stood still and watched the distant flare of battle through the trees. Darkrai drifted at his side, its dark form shifting silently in the air, faint wisps of shadow curling around it.
He watched for a moment longer. Then he reached into his coat and brought out the Ditto Mask.
He pressed it to his face. The material moved against his skin, reshaping itself, features rearranging beneath it until the face it formed was no longer his own.
Giovanni looked out through Jacob's eyes at the burning night ahead.