Mustard coughed violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he lay collapsed on the ground.
This was already the result of Brandon holding back. If he'd struck with full force, that single punch might have snapped the old man's neck clean.
"Master Mustard, I truly meant it when I asked you to join us. I regret having to resort to such measures," Brandon said solemnly, drawing a small blade and slicing his palm open. He let a drop of his blood fall into Mustard's mouth.
"Cough, cough!" The blood burned like fire as it went down, and Mustard's frail body curled in agony.
At that moment, Lucius sensed it.
Another host… infected.
He immediately began suppressing the mutation. This wasn't the place to lose precious assets—these were Champions or the partners of Champions. Letting them become mindless monsters would be an utter waste.
With Lucius's intervention, the infection stabilized swiftly.
And then the Hive's knowledge began pouring into Mustard's mind.
"The Hive…" Mustard muttered, slowly pushing himself off the floor, still dazed by the influx of foreign information.
His partner, Kubfu, flung a Night Slash at Dusknoir and followed up with a spinning back kick aimed at Brandon—but Brandon fluidly stepped back, dodging it in the blink of an eye.
"Stop, Kubfu," Mustard barked, halting his protégé.
The Hive protocol Lucius embedded was detailed. It clearly outlined the benefits granted by the virus, including the advantages of entering the Hive.
For those infected who were Champions or Elite Four-level, Lucius even granted them complete autonomy—free from the authority of higher-level infectees. A hierarchy was essential. Humans weren't insects—they had social roles, power structures. Leaders like them couldn't be treated like foot soldiers, or they'd get cases like Flora giving orders to Lorelei.
During the Rocket merger, Pierce wasn't highly compatible with the virus—but Lucius still placed him in charge of Hive organizational planning. The man had the right mindset and experience. Giving that job to Butch would have spelled inefficiency and chaos.
Feeling vigor returning to his limbs, Mustard—who'd long accepted the limitations of age—now had a flicker of surprise and joy in his gaze.
So what if he was once an undefeated warrior for eighteen years? So what if he'd led Champions? In the end, mortality catches up with everyone. Sooner or later, he would've become a frail old man with a cane.
The most precious things… are always what you've already lost.
Especially youth. Especially time.
Lucius could sense Mustard's shift in mindset. This one was secured. He ordered Mustard to assimilate his Pokémon into the Hive network, and then turned his attention elsewhere.
He now operated like a player with clairvoyant hacks, scanning the map, hunting isolated trainers and Pokémon.
Some, like Palmer, had the worst of luck—stranded alone without their team, their partners already infected by Lucius's Jolteon nearby.
Even Cynthia's Garchomp was subdued—infected and absorbed—after Lucius commanded the Regi Trio to converge on her remotely.
It was a vast hunting ground, and Lucius was the apex predator.
Each infected Champion or Pokémon became part of the Hive, swelling its ranks. For every enemy fallen, another ally was gained.
This… was the virus's true nature.
...
"Roserade, I'm here." Cynthia whispered, approaching quietly with Lucario by her side. Her Roserade stood frozen against a wall, upright, silent.
Cynthia had already adapted to the Distortion World. Here, there was no up or down. Any direction could be the floor… or the ceiling.
Roserade disintegrated in an instant into a whirlwind of rose petals—and in the next moment, reformed directly before her.
"Good. Let's go. We've still got allies out there," Cynthia said, her voice steady.
Roserade nodded, brushing its red rose gently against Cynthia's arm.
"Ah—" Cynthia flinched slightly. A faint prick of pain. Roserade's thorns.
"It's fine," she smiled at the Pokémon's apologetic gaze. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened during training.
They pressed forward. But as they rounded a corner, Cynthia's vision suddenly dimmed—and she collapsed.
...
Lance and Alder sprinted through the warped terrain, their Aerodactyl and Volcarona soaring ahead.
Hot on their heels were Electivire, Garchomp, and the Regi Trio.
Even though Aerodactyl and Volcarona were top-tier, they stood no chance against five opponents of the same caliber.
"Caw—!" A cry echoed through the sky.
A massive Corviknight swooped in head-on, feathers dark as forged steel, its presence as sharp as a blade.
Lance and Alder recognized it instantly—it was one of Mustard's. But whether it was ally or enemy… they had no idea.
With the infection spreading, it was impossible to tell who had turned and who hadn't. Every encounter was a gamble.
Corviknight flapped its wings, unleashing a Hurricane that formed a wall of slicing wind, halting the pursuers.
"Caw—!" it screeched again, gesturing for them to follow.
The two Champions exchanged a glance. Whatever was ahead had to be better than facing five enraged Apex Pokémon.
Behind them, roaring Thunderbolts and Dragon Breaths slammed into the storm barrier, cracking it apart. The exploding winds tore massive chasms into the terrain.
As Electivire and Garchomp readied to pursue, a shadow darted across the battlefield—silent and fast like black lightning.
Rip—!
Three deep gashes tore through Electivire's armored skin, exposing bone. Blood spurted violently.
With a roar of pain, Electivire unleashed Thunder, transforming the field into a forest of lightning. Bolts rained down, scorching everything in sight.
The blinding light illuminated the entire shadowy Distortion World.
The air cracked with thunderous force. Everything struck was vaporized into ash. Even the Regi Trio and Garchomp were forced to raise their defenses.
And yet… the black shadow that attacked Electivire had vanished completely—no sign of it anywhere.
What was that?
Even Lucius, who could sense every infected pulse, had no idea. None of his network had managed to glimpse it.
The hunt within the Distortion World was far from over.
A portion of the Champions' Pokémon had already fallen under control, forcibly conscripted by the corrupted forces. Among the humans, only Lance and Alder remained uninfected; all other Champions had been separately afflicted—each one compromised in different ways by the spreading threat.
Of the remaining resistance, Mustard appeared to hold a certain degree of respect—perhaps even fondness—for the Hive. But Lucius could still sense an unmistakable repulsion emanating from both Cynthia and Palmer. Their resistance wasn't just physical; it was something deeper—spiritual, emotional. An inner barrier, refusing to bend.
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