Name: Corvin
Origin: Hisui
Affiliations: Galaxy Expedition, Security Corps
Pokemon:
Kishin - Hisuian Aegislash (M)
Shiba - Hisuian Growlithe (F) [Guild Asset]
—— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —
They had been forced to stop at the Mirelands outpost camp first just to stabilize the bleeding scout.
Rylen's pulse had been bottoming out dangerously fast, leaving no time to properly inspect or adjust his initial triage treatment.
So, Corvin had simply rammed the boy's mouth full of crushed Oran berries, forced an endless sludge of baseline medicines down his throat to keep his heart beating, and hauled him onto the emergency wagon back to Jubilife before total shock could claim him.
"Rylen Kai Torren! Were you out of your little mind?!" A feminine scream echoed through the entire Galaxy Hall, jolting some of the guild's drowsing staff awake as they sluggishly filed away the last of the applicants for the year.
The Galaxy Expedition Guild's primary Medical Corps room in Jubilife Village, run by Captain Pesselle, smelled heavily of crushed medicinal leaves, sharp antiseptic alcohol, and the faint but distinct, coppery scent of blood.
Captain Pesselle was the absolute picture of maternal warmth in the Galaxy Expedition Team. She was the sweetest, softest-spoken person who offered warm tea and snacks to exhausted guild members and smiled gently while wiping dirt and sweat from their faces.
Naturally this behavior, alongside her mature and gentle beauty, earned her many admirers.
"I can't believe this!"
But right now, she looked ready to explode, though her vocabulary was violently struggling to keep up with her rising blood pressure.
"Of all the... the monumentally... unthoughtful, reckless, silly stunts I have ever witnessed in my entire career!" Pesselle gasped, her voice trembling as she tried to sound terrifyingly severe.
She didn't stop talking even as her hands flew across her workstation, pushing wooden trays aside with uncharacteristic force.
"A 1-Star! Entering a protected sanctuary! and with a stolen map, no less! Did you think the wild Pokémon of Hisui would simply let you be because you wore a uniform?!"
"You are a very... a very disobedient boy!"
On the cot, the rogue scout lay trembling, tears leaking from his eyes as he weakly tried to shrink away from her gentlest attempt at a scolding.
"I just—I just wanted the rank points!" Rylen sobbed.
Pesselle paused, taking a sharp breath as she tried to steady her voice, her expression softening into a look of deep disappointment. "You are a talented young scout, Rylen. You achieved your 1-Star rank in half the time it takes anyone else in the corps."
"But that is absolutely no reason to be so completely reckless! Having potential does not make you special or... or different from anyone else out here facing the wild."
She shook her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And let us be entirely honest—your rapid promotion was largely due to your father's trained Staravia, which you hid and used unlawfully during your field trials. A loyal, wonderful Pokémon that is now... because of your thoughtlessness... dead."
Rylen flinched, his head dropping as a fresh wave of hot tears spilled over his pale cheeks.
Before diving into the medical supplies, Pesselle marched over to a clean wooden peg on the wall.
She grabbed a crisp, bleached white linen apron and tied it securely around her waist with a tight snap of the fabric, before pulling a clean, tightly woven cloth mask over her mouth and nose. Her eyes shone over the top of the fabric with absolute professional focus as she turned back to her cabinet.
"Where is it... oh, goodness, where did those kids put it..." Pesselle muttered, her hands diving into a specialized lacquered chest, hunting for her equipment left scattered by her students.
"I swear, those kids are getting an earful about proper organization when they—"
"Bliss! Blissi~"
A heavy, reassuring patter of feet echoed as a large, round Blissey nudged the door open with its hip. The massive, pink-and-white Pokémon carried a polished wooden tray balanced perfectly on her soft arms. Resting neatly on the tray was a set of glinting steel stitching needles and a spool of pristine, shimmering white thread.
It was imported Levanny silk from Unova, purchased at an exorbitant price from the Ginkgo Guild.
Despite its cost, the Medical Corps swore by it. Unlike standard Spidops or Ariados webbing that needed to be degummed and purified, Levanny silk was impeccably clean, entirely non-sticky, and possessed a natural durability and elasticity that held deep muscle tissue together perfectly.
Even better, when the wound finally closed, applying a specific, harvested Swadloon enzyme would cleanly dissolve the threads, sparing the patient the agonizing ordeal of having the stitches pulled out.
"Oh, thank you, Pecha," Pesselle sighed in relief, taking the tray. She patted the Blissey's soft head before gesturing to the side of the cot. "Please wait right by the operating table. I need you to use Heal Bell to continuously keep the air pure and clean the wound of any contamination."
"And stay ready with Sing just in case the sedation wears off and he wakes up early," she continued as she walked off to the other side of the room.
Pecha nodded intelligently, her smiling face shifting into an uncharacteristically solemn expression as she stepped into position at Rylen's head. Her tiny hands smoothed down the edges of the white apron-like belly holding her egg.
Leaning over, she peered down at Rylen, whose tired eyes stared blankly back up at her.
Pecha offered him a quick, encouraging little wave. Rylen, hesitant, managed a weak, sluggish wave back.
"The Galaxy Team has absolutely no lack of truly talented people," Pesselle added softly through her mask as she dug through the medical cabinet, her eyes drifting pointedly over to the corner of the room where Corvin stood.
Rylen followed her gaze, looking over at the silent, 4-Star Officer. Seeing the imposing figure of Corvin leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a heavy wave of pure shame washed over the young scout, and he quickly looked away, unable to hold the older boy's gaze.
Captain Pesselle turned back around, carrying a heavy glassware jar filled with a thick, dark golden liquid.
Hopo Berry concentrate.
On her way back to the cot, her eyes caught Corvin standing all mysterious in the corner, trying to look like a stoic, unbothered wall ornament.
She paused, narrowing her eyes through her cloth mask. "And that applies to you too, young man! Hmph!" she snapped, puffing her chest out in a rare show of sternness.
Corvin visibly flinched, taken aback and completely shocked by the sudden assault.
What?
What did I even do? feeling wronged, he asked himself in his mind. His eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion and speechlessness as he looked around for an answer that didn't exist.
I'm literally just standing here. :(
At his hip, Kishin didn't even bother being subtle with his mirth. The katana simply began to shiver within its obsidian scabbard, shaking with a high-pitched ringing as the sword explicitly laughed at his partner catching a completely unearned stray.
"Here, drink this. Every single drop, please," she commanded, gently pressing the rim against the scout's lips the moment she finished her lecture. "And don't you dare make a face at the taste!"
"Ugh." The boy choked, swallowing the thick syrup. Within minutes, the potent sedative properties of the Hopo Berry hit his nervous system.
The terror melted from his face as his eyes glazed over, his head rolling loosely against the pillow. His mouth slacked open, releasing a series of incoherent, slurred mutters and goofy, drunken gurgles.
He was completely checked out.
Corvin stood silently in the corner of the tent, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the storm of polite fury with a completely blank expression.
Well, at least he's quiet now, Corvin sighed, sliding his weight onto his other leg. Though I'd rather face more Alphas than watch Captain Pesselle struggle this hard to find another insult.
Pesselle turned her attention to the scout's mangled leg and torso, her eyes narrowing as she took in the bulky, uneven layers of linen bandages Corvin had wrapped in the meadow. "Let's see what kind of... of haphazard job we're dealing with here."
She carefully snipped the linen, peeling back the stained cloth of the stomach to inspect the injury. The bleeding had stopped completely, frozen by the thick, crusty layer of Superb Remedy powder that had aggressively clotted the flesh.
Corvin's eyes tracked her movements, and a sudden, unpleasant realization hit him right in the gut.
Oh. Shit.
In the chaos of the clearing, with a ravenous Alpha breathing down his neck, he had completely rushed the application of the medicine, dumping the entirety of the raw, concentrated Superb Remedy powder directly into the open flesh to stanch the flow of blood.
He had entirely forgotten the most basic medical protocol: you were supposed to mix the abrasive powder with a few drops of Potion fluid first to buffer the chemical reaction.
Applying it dry meant the medicine had aggressively burned the skin as it clotted. It saved the kid's life, sure, but it was going to leave a nasty, puckered web of minor scars across the stump of Rylen's leg and the stomach gash.
Looking at the marred skin, Pesselle froze. Her shoulders went stiff. Beside her, Pecha leaned over the edge of the cot, her small eyes widening as it saw the dry, puckered chemical burns.
The Happiness Pokémon slowly turned her head all the way around to look directly at Corvin, placing two small hands on her round hips and letting out a heavy, deeply disappointed "Bliss~sey!" practically shaking her head at his terrible field medicine.
Corvin didn't wait for them to say anything else.
With suspiciously practiced, silent precision, he took a step backward toward the heavy wooden door. Then another. His boots made zero sound against the floorboards as he slowly shifted his weight, trying to seamlessly dissolve into the shadows and sneak out of the room.
"Corvin."
The voice was quiet, trembling, and entirely disapproving.
Fuck. Corvin closed his eyes in calm, quiet acceptance.
"Stop right where you are," Pesselle said, turning around with her hands on her hips, her eyes wide with frantic, demure indignation. "What in Almighty Sinnoh is this?! Did you dump raw, unbuffered Superb Remedy directly onto an open arterial wound? Look at this scar tissue! That's... that's just so mean to his skin! He's going to have permanent, unflattering marks across his entire lower torso!"
"Bliss!" Pecha pointed a stubby, accusatory, pink finger directly at Corvin, huffing crossly in perfect sync with her partner's scolding.
Corvin slowly lowered his foot, offering a rare, highly strained look of innocence as he outstretched both his hands in a calming gesture. "Aunt Pesselle, please."
"I didn't have time," he hurriedly explained, defending himself. "The kid was actively dying and the Ursaring was looming right over us. I had to fight it. I prioritized stopping the bleeding over his cosmetic appearance."
"That is a bunch… a bunch of Tauros dung!" she stammered, her face flushing bright red at the sudden insult as she struggled to maintain her stern face. "And don't you 'Aunt Pesselle' me, young man! You are an Elite Officer! I have seen and know of your capabilities! You and Kishin could have held off absolutely anything in the Mirelands!"
She stepped forward, pointing a stern finger at the array of chemical burns lining Rylen's lower abdomen.
"A single splash of Potion fluid would have neutralized the chemical component while keeping the clotting factor intact. Speed is no excuse for such careless, thoughtless treatment!"
Corvin shifted nervously, clearing his throat. "Um. Aren't scars a symbol of honor for a man?" he tried.
A prominent vein simultaneously popped on both Pesselle's and Pecha's foreheads. The nurse and her Blissey slowly turned their heads, wearing a pair of terrifyingly sweet, menacing smiles that sent a genuine shiver down the elite officer's spine.
"Shameless!" Pesselle announced, snapping around to face Rylen's wound again.
Without looking back at him, she pointed a steel needle rigidly toward the exit, her hand shaking slightly. "Please get out of my sight. I am extremely mad at you!"
"Just go," she huffed. "I have to clean up your mess and start the proper skin alignment before the sedation fades."
Corvin opened his mouth to reply, but she puffed out her cheeks. "But you are coming straight back to the Medical Corps room the second you finish your report," she added, trying to sound as unyielding as possible.
"You clearly need a full refresher course on emergency treatment. I will personally supervise your practice until your hands are... very, very tired," she finished, voice dropped into a "threatening" tone.
To emphasize the threat, Pecha cracked her tiny knuckles, still with a surprisingly intimidating smile, and patted the stack of stitching needles on the tray.
"Understood, Captain," Corvin muttered, his face turning an impressive shade of ashen gray as all hope drained from his face.
He turned and practically bolted through the doorway, tearing himself away from the impending nightmare of medical paperwork and needle training.
The moment the heavy door fell shut behind him, the katana at his hip began to violently shudder within its scabbard. Kishin didn't even bother opening his eye—the entire weapon just laughed, vibrating so loud he echoed throughout the halls.
The long purple tassels whipped back and forth, practically slapping the scabbard in an explicit display of silent, breathy laughter at his master's utter humiliation.
"Shut up," Corvin hissed, slapping a hand over the hilt to muffle the vibration. "Not another sound."
"How amusing," a cold, perfectly level voice cut through the air.
Corvin's posture snapped instantly straight, his hand dropping from his sword as he turned down the wooden hallway.
Standing a few paces away was Captain Cyllene. Her grey blue hair was pulled back into its signature, flawless side comb, her right hand resting calmly behind the small of her back while her left arm clutched a heavy stack of files and papers.
Two piercing, slate grey eyes bore into him with the exact same unyielding, calculating intensity she used to review guild ledgers.
"Captain Cyllene," Corvin said, his posture tightening as he offered a formal salute, his face still holding a lingering tint of grey from his ordeal in the infirmary. "I was actually looking for you. I need to submit an urgent field report regarding the Guild Map recovery operation."
"It's nice to see you, too, Corvin."
Cyllene didn't move from her position, briefly shifting the weight of the folders in her arm. Her cold grey eyes flicked downward, tracking the muffled, rhythmic vibrations still pulsing from Kishin's scabbard. "I can see your partner still finds your medical incompetence highly entertaining."
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting toward the closed door of the Medical Corps room where Rylen's slurred, drunken singing was now faintly audible through the thick wood.
"However, I am more concerned with the status of the amateur personnel currently undergoing Pesselle's rehabilitation rather than new information regarding the Crimson Mirelands."
She glanced sideways at him, silently expecting him to answer her unsaid question.
"Rylen? He's been stabilized," Corvin answered, his tone instantly flattening. All remnants of his previous embarrassment evaporated, replaced by the serious demeanor of a seasoned soldier. "He's currently undergoing medical treatment for the various severe injuries inflicted on him by an Ursaring."
"He'll live but… he most likely will have to drop out of the Galaxy Expedition Guild, due to his missing leg."
Corvin's voice slowly dropped to a whisper as he finished his report, awaiting her confirmation. A heavy silence descended over the corridor, broken only by the dull, slurred echoes of the sedated scout.
"I see." Captain Cyllene simply nodded, her expression unchanged. "Understood."
She reached out, handing the thick stack of files clamped in her arm over to him. "Now. I assume you have something important to tell me regarding your expedition?"
"Yes ma'am, the situation on the plateau was resolved." Corvin took the papers, cradling the stack securely against his chest with his left arm while trailing half a step behind the Captain as she turned and walked forward, leading the way.
"We encountered an Alpha Ursaring, the same one that injured Rylen, and subsequently had to hunt it."
"Just a simple Alpha?" The Captain looked back at him from the corner of her vision, her eyes narrowing in visible dissatisfaction. She paused before the heavy wooden doors of her office.
"Surely that can't be all."
Corvin stepped closer, lowering his voice so it wouldn't echo down the long wooden corridor. "Though, I believe it wasn't a standard territorial dispute," he continued.
Cyllene's faint brow twitched upward by a mere fraction of a millimeter—her equivalent of an ordinary person's gasp in surprise. She pushed the door open, stepping into the quiet, afternoon sun-lit room and holding it just wide enough for Corvin to walk inside.
"Explain."
"It had slaughtered Rylen's Staravia and had already eaten part of the boy's lower leg before I arrived," Corvin stated seriously, his right hand resting naturally back on Kishin's hilt to steady the weapon.
"So the Junior Scout who was arrogant and careless, agitated the wild fauna and paid the price. Sounds normal to me."
"Yes. But I don't think Rylen was totally at fault here. Sure, he was extremely stupid in venturing into higher level territory than he could handle," Corvin explained, offering a rare, objective defense for the scout. "But I don't think even he would purposefully aggravate an Ursaring."
"The species may be omnivorous, but they are known more for being sedentary and having an extreme fondness for fruit, berries, and honey, rather than wasting their energy hunting active prey."
He stepped up to her large wooden desk, setting the files down cleanly on the blotter as Cyllene bypassed her chair to stand by the window, her hands clasping behind her back.
"And with the spacious terrain of the Meadows, there is no way he couldn't see the Pokémon, either," Corvin reasoned, pacing his words to match her analysis. "So he couldn't have walked into it by accident."
"The most important thing is, the bear wasn't defending a nest, cubs, or even a berry tree. It wasn't even trying to flee when Kishin and I gravely injured it and pushed it back."
"Hmm," Cyllene thoughtfully hummed, her eyes tracking the falling leaves outside, but she said little else.
"All Pokémon, even the most aggressive of Alphas, have basic survival instincts and a desire to live," Corvin pressed, his eyes darkening as he recalled the unnatural aggression in the beast's eyes. "But instead, it was actively attacking and trying to kill us until its very last breath, like it was mindlessly berserk.
"So I made the final decision to kill it, putting it down permanently for the safety of Jubilife."
Cyllene slowly turned around to face him. Her expression turned icy as she pieced together the details of his words, calculations running behind her sharp gaze.
"Another Pokémon showing abnormal aggression and active predatory behavior toward humans? That matches the various anomalous data pouring in from the other Corps," she said, pulling a separate leather-bound ledger from her desktop.
"That's why I'm reporting this directly, Captain Cyllene," Corvin continued, drawing himself up into a formal, straight position before her. "Even the danger levels across the Obsidian Fieldlands are spiking past normal parameters. Patrol units are also logging multiple Alpha sightings, and there has been a sharp increase in injuries in the past month."
"I'm worried that there's something in Hisui that is altering the Pokémon's behavior and strength rapidly. And if it continues at this rate, our current defenses aren't going to hold out."
Cyllene stared at him for a long, unblinking moment. The strict, unyielding weight of her office persona seemed to fill the room until she picked up an ink quill, dipping it lightly into the well.
"Aunt."
"Huh?" Corvin questioned, his rigid posture faltering slightly as his brain tripped over the sudden word. "What?"
"It's Aunt Cyllene when we are outside of public view," Cyllene clarified smoothly. She dragged the tip of the quill across a parchment document, signing her name in a flawless, sweeping script without looking up at him.
"Oh," Corvin blankly replied. "Okay."
To the rest of the Galaxy Team, Captain Cyllene was an emotionless machine constructed entirely of logic and discipline.
But as one of the few people who had ever interacted with her outside of her official duties, Corvin knew the truth.
Beneath the frozen exterior beat a surprisingly caring, protective heart.
After all, she, alongside Captain Zisu and Captain Pesselle, had been the core foundation of his life. They were the ones who had been there the most, helping Commander Kamado raise him after he was found injured and lost in the brutal cold of the Coronet Highlands as a young child.
She was, for all intents and purposes, his family just as much as Captain Pesselle was.
A faint, subtle warmth eased the tension in Corvin's shoulders.
"…Aunt Cyllene," he hesitantly corrected himself, his tone softening out of respect for the private boundary. "So what should we do?"
Cyllene didn't look up from her paperwork, her quill scratching a rhythmic, scratching rhythm across the parchment. "You do not need to do anything, Corvin. The adults are currently handling the situation."
Corvin blinked, his posture stiffening slightly. "The adults? But I'm—"
"We are already aware of the anomalous spikes," Cyllene interrupted, her voice entirely flat and devoid of emotion. "A multi-corps investigation has been quietly underway for some time now, focusing entirely on pinpointing the localized source of this sudden aggression increase. It's not your concern."
She paused her writing, finally raising her piercing, slate grey eyes to look directly at him. "Children your age should be spending their energy worrying about making friends, studying your field guides, or perhaps feeling overly self-conscious about your physical appearance."
"You shouldn't be dedicating your youth to hunting down berserk Alphas in the wilderness."
"Children?" A sudden flush of heat hit Corvin's cheeks, his jaw tightening as her words stabbed at his pride. "I'm eighteen years old, Captain Cyllene! I'm the youngest and the fastest to ever to be promoted to a 4-Star Elite Officer."
"That makes me basically an adult! I have enough training, and I can help find whatever is causing this."
Cyllene stared at him, her expression completely unreadable, before she delivered her brutal, unblinking assessment."Correction. You are only a 4-Star."
"And you possess exactly one personal Pokémon partner," she said, glancing at Kishin, her voice dropping like a heavy block of steel.
"To be put bluntly: you are weak. Too weak to face the dangers coming."
"What!" His voice dropped, thick with a dangerous, shaking edge of pure disbelief. Her words felt like a physical slap to the face.
Every ounce of his hard work, the scars he earned and the titles he had bled for—casually swept aside as if it meant absolutely nothing.
The sheer coldness of the dismissal struck a raw nerve. Corvin's fingers twitched, a sudden surge of frustrated adrenaline flooding his chest as he went to step forward, prepared to argue his qualifications.
"Aegis!"Kishin shrieked sharply. His tone was crisp and warning, instantly cutting through the rising tension in the room. Before Corvin could speak, the twin floating pauldrons hovering at his shoulders began to vibrate, a low, spectral hum rippling through the steel plates as Ghost-type energy flared.
At the exact same moment, one of Kishin's long purple tassels drifted upward, wrapping itself tightly around Corvin's forearm.
The cloth squeezed his arm with a firm pressure, a silent anchor pulling him back from the edge of his emotional outburst.
The heavy squeeze did its job. Corvin exhaled slowly through his nose, his shoulders dropping as the anger left his system.
The vibrating armor plates at his shoulders settled back into their quiet, steady hover, and the restless energy faded from his boots.
He looked down at the floorboards, adjusting his grip on his uniform. "I... apologize, Captain Cyllene. I lost my composure."
Cyllene watched him, her eyes lingering on the protective way Kishin had intervened.
Gradually, the severe, rigid line of her shoulders relaxed by a fraction of an inch, her icy gaze softening into something resembling quiet relief.
"You don't need to burden your mind with complications of this scale, Corvin," she said softly, her voice dropping into a gentle cadence that rarely belonged to his aunt.
"Live your life. Focus on your training, maybe get a girlfriend, and leave the weight of Hisui to us."
Corvin stared at her for a moment, deciding to ignore the girlfriend comment. The quiet care behind her strict rules settled heavily in his chest.
A faint, respectful nod was all he managed. "I understand. Thank you, Aunt Cyllene. It was truly nice to see you."
For a single, fleeting second, the cold mask of Captain Cyllene slipped completely. Her lips curved upward into a very faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Goodbye, Corvin. Remember to eat and take care of yourself."
"Goodbye, ma'am." Corvin turned, walking across the quiet office and slipping out into the corridor, shutting the heavy wooden door silently behind him.
The moment the latches clicked home, the quiet hallway felt instantly colder. Kishin shifted at his hip, the katana lifting slightly from its scabbard as the ghostly purple eye cracked wide open, staring up at his partner with a look of quiet, uncharacteristic worry.
Corvin looked down at the blade, offering a tired but genuine smile as he slowly patted the hilt. "I'm fine, Kishin. Really. Don't worry about what she said."
He let out a soft breath, his fingers resting loosely on the guard. "Hey. Thanks for pulling me back in there. I needed that."
Kishin hummed a soft, comforting frequency, clearly relieved.
A quiet, stubborn flame ignited in Corvin's eyes as he stared blankly at the closed office door. "Too weak, huh?" he muttered, a small, defiant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Fine. If that's how they see us, we just have to train and get stronger. We'll push ourselves until they can't ignore us anymore."
The sheathed blade rattled with a crisp, resonant chime, matching his defiance word for word.
Then in the next second, the looming reality of his future dawned on him. Corvin's smirk vanished instantly as his shoulders drooped, his face turning another shade of pale gray all over again as Pesselle's final threat echoed in his ears.
Ah, right... he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck in absolute despair. I still have to report to the Medical Corps room for mandatory medical training.
He stared down the long, empty corridors toward the lone door standing menacingly at the end of the hallway, feeling like a Mareep marching straight into a den of angry wild Shinx.
"Let's just go and get this absolute nightmare over with."
Kishin let out a bright, shrill metallic chuckle that echoed cleanly off the wooden walls. The long purple tassel reached up, giving Corvin a highly amused, mocking pat on the shoulder as they walked forward.