Enzo looked at the team and wasted no time.
"All right," he said, "Listen carefully. We're splitting up from here."
This immediately captured their full attention, even causing Ronnie to straighten up a bit. The joking tone was gone; this was serious business.
"We have millions at stake," Enzo continued. "The market is in chaos, which means this isn't the time to rest, recover, or dwell on how foolish we were last night. We need to act before everyone else does."
Ratchet frowned. "You say that like it's easy..."
Enzo ignored him. "Ronnie, Ratchet, you two are going to Ballonlea."
Ratchet's expression changed at once. "No."
Enzo turned his head slowly. "That was not a question."
Ratchet pointed at Ronnie as if he were an active crime scene. "I almost got cooked alive because of him!"
Ronnie looked offended. "That was a misunderstanding!"
"Your Pokémon tied me to a pole."
"Only temporarily."
"That does not make it better."
Enzo cut across them before an argument could start, forcing their focus back to the immediate logistics.
"You are both going to Ballonlea," he repeated. "Your job is simple. Find a supplier of Shiny Mushrooms."
Ronnie blinked. "Shiny Mushrooms?"
Ratchet narrowed his eyes, clearly calculating the financial risk in such a vague instruction. "What kind of quantities are we talking about here?"
Enzo met his gaze with absolute seriousness, having already mapped out the financial structure of the operation in his head. "Find someone who handles massive quantities. Ideally, this business operates in that gray area between legal and illegal, considering that ninety-eight percent of our current funds are entirely illegal."
Ratchet let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he resigned himself to the new task.
Enzo then shifted his attention to Ronnie, who was gently patting his newly acquired Shiinotic.
"When you head out, take a detour through Glimwood Tangle. Tell every Impidimp you find that if they want to join us, they'll get a safe place to live and all the food they can eat."
Ronnie beamed, genuinely thrilled at the thought of gathering a small army of chaotic goblins.
Enzo let a brief moment of silence pass to ensure his next point carried the appropriate weight. "And try not to let anyone get eaten this time."
Ronnie saluted cheerfully, completely unfazed by the memory of the disaster they had narrowly escaped just a few hours prior. "Got it, boss! I'll handle the Impidimp recruitment and keep this guy completely protected while he finds us a mushroom dealer."
Ratchet looked deeply offended on behalf of basic dignity. "Why are you looking at me, too?"
Enzo moved on without sympathy. "Proton, Anna, you two will be stationed in the main market districts."
Anna blinked and straightened slightly. Proton nodded once in acknowledgment.
"The reveal of the Fairy type has changed everything," Enzo explained. "Most people still don't grasp the full implications. They're only looking at the surface: Dragons, Fairies, matchups, headlines, and panic. But the real opportunity lies beneath all that."
"Markets tend to overreact," he continued. "When something significant happens, people start selling off anything they no longer trust. Dark types were already overpriced before this happened—not because all of them were actually worth it, but simply due to their popularity."
Anna listened intently. Proton was equally focused.
Enzo looked at both of them and said, "I want you two in the markets. Start buying Dark types."
Anna furrowed her brow. "All of them?"
"As many as you can get at the right price," Enzo replied. "But be selective. I don't want just any cheap options. Minimum Green potential is a must. If it doesn't meet that standard, walk away."
Proton nodded. "Understood."
Enzo continued without missing a beat. "Also, make the most of the fact that we're in Galar. The most common species here is Galarian Zigzagoon."
Anna's eyes brightened. "Zigzagoon?"
"Yes!" Enzo replied enthusiastically. "Since it's widespread, we have a great supply, and it's affordable, allowing us to gather a good number quickly. Plus, with three evolutions, the right ones could be incredibly valuable down the line. It's a robust species line—ideal for long-term investment. I'd love for you to buy as many as you can!"
Proton grasped the strategy first. "On it," he said.
"Good," Enzo replied. "And don't limit yourselves to Zigzagoon. Purchase any worthwhile Dark type, but maintain that Green potential minimum. If you come across something better, even better."
Anna crossed her arms. "What if we find someone selling in bulk?"
"Call me first," Enzo stated immediately. "If you discover a bulk deal, I want to evaluate it myself before you commit. I don't care how appealing it sounds; I need to see it."
Proton nodded again. "No problem."
Anna nodded as well. "Understood."
Enzo looked between them one last time. "Good. Now move quickly. If the market is crashing, I want to be the one buying while everyone else is panicking."
Ratchet was the first to speak. "So what about you?"
Enzo looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Ratchet gestured vaguely. "You gave us jobs. You gave them jobs. What are you doing?"
That made Ronnie perk up, too. "Yeah, what are you going after?"
Enzo's gaze wandered briefly, not because he was focused on anything specific, but because his mind was occupied with other thoughts.
Such a task could not be entrusted to someone else.
It was far too important, too dangerous.
He looked back at them.
"You each have a different function," he said.
Then he tapped a finger lightly against his own chest.
"I am handling the one thing here that does not concern any of you."
Ronnie looked mildly hurt. "That feels unfair."
Enzo ignored that completely.
"Actually, now that you mention it, there is one thing I need to warn all of you about." His eyes moved across the group one by one. "Stay away from any mine in Galar. I do not care if it looks abandoned, profitable, or interesting. Do not go near it."
That got their attention immediately.
Anna frowned slightly. "Any mine?"
"Any mine," Enzo repeated. "No detours, no curiosity, no side business. Stay away."
Proton gave a small nod. "Understood."
"Alright," Ronnie said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Sounds good," Ratchet added, ready to move forward.
"Great! Now off you go!" Enzo encouraged.
This time, everyone was on board.
Once the others had gone their separate ways, Enzo made his way alone toward Circhester Station.
The station itself was new, clean, and crowded, filled with a constant flow of travelers moving beneath bright lights and polished steel. It was one of the Galar League's newer projects, part of a broader effort to unify the region's cities and towns through an ultra-fast, highly efficient rail network.
Looking at it now, it was hard not to admire the scale of the ambition. Everything about the place felt deliberate.
Enzo approached one of the ticket machines rather than any counter, since there was no need for one. The process was simple. He selected his destination, Crown Tundra, pressed the purchase option, and waited while the machine printed his ticket.
When he saw the final price, he was pleasantly surprised.
For a journey that long, it was remarkably cheap.
He took the ticket, slipped it away, and boarded the train just as it was preparing to receive its last passengers. This time, he had paid extra for a private cabin, and the moment he stepped inside, he knew the purchase had been worth it. The compartment was completely empty, leaving him alone with silence, polished glass, and the low, almost imperceptible hum of advanced machinery.
He sat down by the window and leaned his head lightly against the glass, letting his eyes drift over Galar as the train began to move.
The region was still under construction in more ways than one.
Even now, it was growing fast.
In the future, Galar would become home to one of the greatest Pokémon Leagues in the world, a region of enormous popularity, spectacle, and influence. Much of that would come from its unique relationship with Dynamax and Gigantamax, the kind of regional advantage that could reshape prestige, tourism, and power all at once.
Enzo found himself wondering what stage the research had reached by now.
Professor Magnolia was probably still working on the wristband.
That thought lingered in his mind as the train accelerated.
It moved with astonishing speed, so smoothly that the only real sign of motion was the way the scenery outside began to blur. Cities gave way to open land, roads stretched thin across the countryside, and distant mountains slowly rose higher and higher on the horizon. Enzo allowed himself to rest for a while, simply watching Galar pass by beyond the glass while the train cut through the region with effortless precision.
A few hours later, he finally reached his destination.
Crown Tundra.
When he stepped off the train, the contrast with Circhester was immediate.
The station there was quieter, emptier, colder.
There were still people moving through it, but far fewer than before. Most of them looked like miners or laborers, dressed in heavy coats and thick layered clothing to protect themselves from the bitter cold. The air itself felt sharper here, rougher, as if the land had no interest in making life comfortable for anyone.
Enzo pulled out his phone and opened the map, searching for directions to Freezington. After checking the route and confirming the coordinates, he stepped away from the station, released Corviknight, and climbed onto its back.
Together, they took to the sky and began flying toward Freezington.
By the time Enzo reached the village, the cold had settled deep into his clothes.
The wind that swept through the Crown Tundra was not violent, but it was dry, sharp, and relentless— the kind that slipped through fabric and settled in the bones. Snow had gathered in uneven layers along the roads, on rooftops, and around fences darkened by age and weather.
The houses appeared old, heavy structures, built low and sturdy against the land as if they had learned long ago that beauty came second to survival.
There were not many people outside.
A few figures moved through the streets, dressed in thick coats and fur-lined hats, their heads lowered against the cold. Their expressions were closed off, common among those who had no reason to trust strangers. No one smiled at him. No one greeted him. He was watched, measured, and then silently dismissed, as long as he gave them no reason to matter.
It was the kind of place that would feel hostile to most people.
Enzo liked it immediately.
There was something honest about it.
No fake warmth. No polished charm. No carefully curated image made to impress outsiders. The village did not pretend to be more than it was. It was cold, remote, old, and difficult, and it wore all of that without shame.
He found that strangely calming.
The silence helped too.
Enzo let his gaze drift across the snow-covered fields and the thin smoke rising from chimneys into the gray sky.
There was beauty in severe places.
After a while, he began to move through the village at a relaxed pace, keeping his hands in his pockets and wearing a neutral expression. He didn't ask questions right away. He didn't stare too long at anything significant. Instead, he simply walked, observed, and allowed himself to blend into the rhythm of the place.
This was the best way to gather information.
Instead of barging in, take a moment to settle down and soak in your surroundings.
As Enzo strolled along the edge of a narrow street, he came across a charming outdoor stall displaying a delightful array of local products neatly arranged in wooden crates. The variety was modest, yet still impressive for this hidden gem.
He noticed vibrant root vegetables, hearty greens, rugged-looking apples, jars of tasty preserves, and even a handful of resilient mountain berries that seemed to thrive against all odds.
Enzo paused, captivated by the scene.
Behind the stall stood an older gentleman, broad-shouldered and soft-spoken, with a weathered face that seemed to mirror the timeless nearby mountains. He observed Enzo thoughtfully, allowing the moment to breathe.
Crouching down, Enzo picked up an apple and admired it closely.
"It's truly impressive," he remarked warmly. "I didn't expect such wonderful produce to thrive in a place like this!"
The merchant grunted softly.
"We get enough here," the man said, "if you know what survives."
Enzo nodded and selected a few items without haggling—some fruit, a few vegetables, and a jar of pickled something he didn't recognize but decided to buy anyway. It wasn't the money that mattered; it was the gesture.
Very few outsiders made purchases in places like this unless they truly needed something.
People noticed when someone made an effort.
The merchant packed the items slowly into a paper bag, and Enzo could see his eyes becoming a little less guarded.
"You're not from around here," he remarked.
"No," Enzo replied with ease. "I'm just passing through."
The old man handed him a bag. "There's not much reason to pass through here unless you're working in the mines, hunting, or got lost."
Enzo allowed himself the smallest smile.
"I can do a bit of all three." This elicited a slight twitch at the corner of the merchant's mouth.
That was sufficient. Not trust yet, but enough for the conversation to become useful.
"I am actually interested in mining," he said. "I was hoping to find a man called Peony. I heard he is one of the best miners around here, and I thought it might be a good opportunity to learn more about the trade."
The man's expression changed instantly, though not significantly enough to notice.
In a place like Freezington, where mining was as common as cold winds and ancient stones, interest in the trade still held value. It was honest work that the people here respected.
The merchant gave a low grunt.
"Peony?" he said. "Peony is not right in the head, but he is a great miner. You can learn quite a bit from him."
Enzo kept his face calm, but inwardly he felt a sharp flicker of satisfaction.
Bingo.
So the old man knew him.
"Do you happen to know where I could find him?" Enzo asked.
The merchant lifted one gloved hand and pointed farther down the village road.
"He lives in that house over there," he said. "But I do not know if he is home. Most of the time, he is either wandering around or down by the mines."
Enzo followed the direction with his eyes, then nodded.
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
The old man gave him a look that was somewhere between warning and resignation.
"Go on, then. But be careful with him."
Enzo looked back at him. "Careful?"
The merchant snorted.
"Do not get dragged into all his stories about legendary Pokémon and old legends. He talks a lot of nonsense like that." He shook his head once.
Enzo gave a small smile and inclined his head.
"Understood."
The old merchant waved one hand dismissively, as if that settled the matter.
"Off you go, then."
Enzo thanked him one last time, adjusted the bag under his arm, and started walking toward the house the man had pointed out, his steps calm and unhurried through the snow.