Shiro silently nodded in response to Renji's question.
This was indeed his first time in the Northern Wild Area, and also the first time he'd heard anyone mention "Elite Four."
In well-established regions like Kanto, Johto, or Hoenn, there was a clear power structure: Champion at the top, followed by the Elite Four, then the Gym Leaders. These roles not only represented the League's public image but also handled incidents involving violent Pokémon activity.
In most parts of the League, a Gym Leader was essentially the mayor of their town. Unless someone was particularly reclusive or uninterested in management, the Gym Leader usually acted as the de facto ruler of their territory.
Champions and Elite Four members were high-ranking officials within their respective regional Leagues, with the authority to participate in central decision-making.
But Galar, which had only recently been absorbed into the League system, was a different case. The region had barely retained a basic Gym Leader structure, and only added a Champion role by promoting the Champion Cup. As for the Elite Four, Shiro had never heard of such a thing.
Now this Renji was suddenly bringing up something called the "Elite Four" and even mentioned blowing up mountains with explosives to catch Pokémon... probably to sell them. It was... disgraceful.
"They're just a title we gave ourselves out here," Renji explained with a smile as he sat back down on his wooden stump. "The Wild Area's Elite Four. Since we don't have official ones in Galar, these are four trainers whose strength everyone around here acknowledges. People call them that because they can keep raising Pokémon strong enough to hit Gym-level. But honestly, they are more like street thugs compared to Macro Cosmos."
Shiro nodded in understanding, then asked curiously, "So who are the four of them?"
"Cillian, who specializes in Water types. Alric, who uses Normal types. Dalton, who's into Bug types. And Felix, who focuses on Dark types."
Renji rattled off the names quickly, then elaborated.
"Cillian's a decent guy. Pretty loyal. Sometimes people even ask him to mediate conflicts. Alric's a strong loner. As for Felix and Dalton... they're famous too, but for different reasons. Let's just say... they're the kind who like to take things that don't belong to them."
Shiro picked up on the name—Dalton, the one who specialized in Bug-types. That was the guy from the kidnapping group he'd run into back in Stow-on-Side. He was bold.
He decided to ask, "Bug-type specialist?"
"Yeah. Pretty rare, right?" Renji leaned forward like he was chatting with an old friend. "Bug-type Pokémon don't live long, and the Gym-level ones Dalton trains usually don't survive long enough for him to even form a full team of six."
After Renji finished speaking, the young man next to them, who had been silently listening until now, cut in.
"That's probably why Dalton's been going around stealing other people's Pokémon lately. He actually used to have a pretty good reputation, and some even saw him as being on par with Cillian. But not long ago, word got out that he pocketed millions of Pokédollars, leaving a bunch of wild trainers who worked under him unpaid… and after that, he changed completely."
"Heh." Shiro chuckled softly, a bit of realization dawning on him.
Back in the desert near Stow-on-Side, when Dalton told his men to run first, it wasn't out of fear of being chased. He simply didn't want to share the profits with them.
He'd known those researchers were valuable. He planned to trade them for Dragon-type hatchlings—something worth far more than even fully-trained Gym-level dragons. Because they could actually be raised into obedient Pokémon, and lived notoriously long lives.
If it had been someone softer negotiating with Dalton, the deal might have dragged on for a long time. After contacting Rose, maybe they would've settled on something like one dragon hatchling plus some other resources.
But Dalton had been betrayed by his cowardly partners at the time. Maybe then he just wanted to make up for the losses, but after being accused of stealing millions, he'd snapped. No more pretending. He was throwing everything into getting stronger.
"Anyway..." Renji glanced between Shiro and the young man. "Do the two of you have anything to buy? As a merchant who values his reputation, I'll be here all day—"
Before he could finish, the young man folded his arms and spoke up.
"Bullshit. You're always here, acting like you'd ever head anywhere else. Like there aren't merchants everywhere."
"Heh…" Renji didn't get angry, nor did he defend himself. Instead, he went right back to business. "That brainwashed Water-type Advanced-level Pokémon. Nineteen hundred thousand Pokédollars, just for this friend's sake. Final offer. You want it?"
The young man fell silent. Nineteen hundred thousand was steep for a conditioned Pokémon. Even without brainwashing, Macro Cosmos usually bought them for a flat one hundred thousand. Resale prices depended on the Pokémon's utility and strength—maybe a few tens of thousands extra.
He was eyeing a Drednaw, a Water-type barely touching Advanced-level. His plan wasn't to battle with it, but to use it to navigate the flooded sections of the Stony Wilderness and catch wild Pokémon.
But this Drednaw had changed hands who knew how many times. In the black market, it would fetch maybe a hundred and ten, a hundred and twenty thousand at best.
"…Fine." After a brief hesitation, the young man paid up. He believed he could catch Pokémon worth far more than what he'd just spent.
The transaction went smoothly, and the young man disappeared into the woods soon after.
Renji turned to Shiro again. His face, hidden beneath a mask, gave nothing away.
"Brother, anything you need? Pokémon, Pokéblocks, medicine, rations… I've got it all."
Shiro shook his head without a word and started walking toward the nearby lakeside.
Renji's voice called out behind him. "If you ever need anything, come find me in this area. I'm always here!"
Shiro didn't look back. He simply raised a hand and waved it lightly, just enough to show he'd heard.
Ahead, the vast expanse of the Lake of Outrage stretched to the horizon. The morning sun had risen, casting a dazzling white glare across the water. The reflection shimmered like glass, almost painful to look at. Shiro stepped to the edge of the lake and glanced down. The water was so clear, he could see straight to the bottom.
"Drakloak, which way is your home?" he asked softly.
The Dragon-type appeared beside him, but gave no answer. Instead, it darted behind him, grabbed his shoulders, and shot into the sky.
Drakloak's pale blue skin contrasted sharply with Shiro's flowing black cloak, creating a striking silhouette as they soared over the lake.
Back in the woods, Renji watched them vanish into the distance. He subconsciously touched a Poké Ball at his waist, murmuring to himself:
"Macro Cosmos… or maybe the Dragon family? Either way… dangerous guy."
...
Meanwhile, on a small island in the northern part of Lake of Outrage, a dark-scaled Dragapult lay sprawled in the center of a sun-drenched lawn, letting out a long, lazy yawn.
It was an old dragon—one of the elders of the local Dragapult clan.
With a slight shift of its body, it murmured in a half-conscious voice.
"Drah~" (Nothing beats a good nap~)
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