The Day After Eterna Gym
Orion woke without the heat he was used to.
The kind that curled near his feet and hummed with static even in sleep. The kind that, no matter how new or unpredictable, made the nights feel a little safer.
The bed was quiet. Still. Too quiet.
Luxio wasn't there.
Not surprising—he hadn't left the recovery bay after the Gym match. The staff had kept him in observation overnight, and Orion hadn't argued. That hit from Torterra would've flattened most things, badge tier or not.
He sat up slowly, pulling the blanket off and letting the cool Center air settle around his shoulders.
Grotle and Tyrunt were probably waiting.
Or pacing. Or chewing through something structural.
He stood, pulled on his boots, and headed for Pod Five.
The Center's hallways were mostly empty. Staff moved past in efficient, unbothered lines, and no one tried to stop him. His feet already knew where to go. Pod Five. Always Pod Five.
He stepped in and exhaled when he saw them.
Tyrunt was pacing. Tail swishing in precise, angry arcs, head lowered and jaws twitching.
Grotle was half-sunk into a recessed soil platform. Awake, breathing slow, chewing on something he wasn't supposed to be chewing on.
Luxio was still in the recovery unit. Not sedated, but not moving fast either. Lying curled on the recharging mat, the static control band strapped to his chest. His fur rose and fell with each breath.
Orion approached the pod and glanced at the diagnostics screen.
Spark conductivity: 68% restored
Neuromuscular function: stable
Battle readiness: offline
Luxio blinked once. Their eyes met. No guilt. No apology. Just a spark in the stare.
"You nearly got yourself pulped," Orion muttered. "But I guess you already knew that."
Luxio's tail twitched once, then settled.
He'd be fine.
Tyrunt exploded out of his pod the moment the restraints were lifted, let out a snarl, and headbutted the side wall like it had insulted his pride.
Orion didn't stop him.
Grotle took longer to emerge. He moved like someone who had been stepped on by a moving continent. Still, no hesitation in his gait. Just weight.
Orion tossed them food.
Tyrunt devoured his in one go and immediately looked for something else to chew.
Grotle took slow, consistent bites without ever breaking eye contact.
Luxio's pod opened mid-meal. He stepped out on his own—sore, limping slightly, but steady. No theatrics. Just a quiet, deliberate walk toward the wall, where he sat down and began grooming one paw.
Orion pulled out the notebook and started logging stats.
Post-Gym Diagnostics – Eterna Gym
Tyrunt: Initiation sharp. Stealth Rock field control worked. Caught flat on Breloom entry. Lateral defense weak against burst-type melee.
Grotle: Anchor value confirmed. Shell torque held up against high-weight impact. Absorb inadequate vs evolved-class energy pools. Reaction delay on combo-pressures (Poison + Seed).
Luxio: Spark precision excellent. Bite delivery under stress: high success. Overvolt under Wood Hammer hit; recovery system successful. Energy spike post-defeat indicates possible evolution threshold prep.
Overall Team Readiness: Functioned at 3-badge level.
Pressure Control: Survived.
Terrain Mastery: Acceptable under ambush-class shifting.
Badge Result: Passed via adjusted tier performance. Elira approved. Not gifted.
He looked at the last line, underlined it once, and then scratched out "approved" and wrote "earned."
Better.
The rest of the day passed like wet stone.
There wasn't a rush to do anything. No wild battles to plan. No supplies to ration.
He took the team out to the far edge of Eterna—one of the less developed greenbelt zones that hadn't yet been converted into full parkland. Trees half-fenced. Shrubs mangled. Footpaths that looked like they had been sketched, not built.
Grotle walked like he had a field to inspect.
Tyrunt snapped at the wings of anything that buzzed too close.
Luxio followed slower than usual. He didn't need anyone to know he was tired—but Orion could tell.
No one asked for a drill.
Orion didn't offer one.
He passed by the Gym again.
A trainer stood outside, yelling that "a Breloom with Poison Jab is unfair at one badge."
They weren't wrong.
But they also didn't matter.
Back at the Center, Orion scanned prices.
Food for two weeks: expensive.
Move tutor options: worse.
Poké Balls: manageable, if he bought only one.
Two focused sessions. One ration order. After that, broke.
They ate quietly. Tyrunt growled when he chewed. Grotle dozed between bites. Luxio flattened himself on the tile.
Orion didn't bother cooking. He opened his notebook.
Wrote down three words.
Time to scale.
That was it.