(Ursaluna — Bloodmoon Focus)
Ursaluna did not wait in the training yard.
It waited outside it.
Cyrus noticed that immediately.
The Bloodmoon Ursaluna stood beyond the reinforced boundary, massive silhouette half-submerged in morning fog, claws sunk into raw earth instead of stone. The ground beneath it had darkened and compressed, saturated, as if the land itself had chosen to yield.
Cyrus stopped at the edge of the yard.
Gengar hovered behind him, unusually quiet.
Ditto tightened slightly around his shoulders.
"That's fine," Cyrus said under his breath. "I didn't want to start inside anyway."
He stepped past the boundary.
The ground changed the moment he did.
Not dramatically—no tremor, no roar—but the subtle shift of pressure that told him this place had rules he hadn't learned yet. His boots sank a fraction deeper than they should have. The air smelled of iron and damp soil.
Ursaluna lifted its head.
Red light bled from the markings across its body, not glowing, not flaring, just present. The moon wasn't visible in the daylight sky, but its influence pressed down all the same.
Cyrus resisted the instinct to issue a command.
He'd learned better.
"Alright," he said quietly. "You lead."
Ursaluna exhaled.
The sound rolled through the ground more than the air.
It took one step forward.
The earth answered.
A low ridge rose between them—not a wall, but a suggestion. A question.
Cyrus approached it cautiously and stepped over.
The soil shifted under his weight, testing him. He adjusted, slowed, found balance.
Behind him, Gengar's shadow stretched—but didn't interfere.
Ursaluna watched, another step but this time the ground tilted.
Cyrus stumbled, catching himself on instinct. His heart rate spiked. For half a second, panic flared—the kind that came from Divide City, from things moving beneath his feet without warning.
The ridge didn't collapse.
Cyrus exhaled slowly and shifted his stance, distributing weight, respecting the slope instead of fighting it.
The ground steadied.
Ursaluna rumbled low in its chest.
Cryrus not sure if that meant approval or acknowledgment.
Then it moved.
Each step landed with measured inevitability, claws pressing deep, pulling power upward from the soil itself. The earth behind Ursaluna compacted into solid footing. The earth ahead of it softened, unstable.
Cyrus realized the pattern too late.
The ground beneath him gave way.
He fell, not far, but hard enough to cause him to begin rolling onto his side as the soil collapsed into a shallow pit. Pain flared in his shoulder.
Gengar hissed sharply.
Ditto tightened, instinctively starting to harden.
"No," Cyrus gasped. "Stay."
He pushed himself upright, mud coating his jacket, breath ragged.
Ursaluna loomed at the edge of the pit.
Cyrus met its gaze.
"Are You're not testing my strength, or my ability to take a fall..." he said hoarsely.
Ursaluna's eyes burned steady.
Cyrus looked down at the pit, then back at the surrounding ground. The pattern was clearer now—zones of support and collapse, strength and surrender.
He took a careful step sideways.
The ground held.
Another.
Still solid.
He climbed out without rushing.
Ursaluna stepped back, creating space. The the ground settled.
Cyrus wiped mud from his cheek and laughed once, breathless. "Okay," he admitted, "Point taken I guess it is the former not the latter."
Ursaluna turned and moved deeper into the field.
The land followed.
This time, Cyrus didn't chase.
He walked slow and deliberate, watching how Ursaluna's steps shaped the earth, where it hardened ground, where it weakened it. Power wasn't being thrown around.
It was being placed.
When Ursaluna stopped, Cyrus stopped too.
Silence stretched between them.
Then the ground shuddered.
Not violent, but as if a heavy pressure was place on it.
A pulse rolled outward, forcing Cyrus to brace instinctively. The soil around Ursaluna rose into a ring, dense, compacted, nearly stone.
Cyrus swallowed.
"Alright," he said,"I guess now we train."
Ursaluna moved first.
A single step cracked the ring, shock traveling through the earth in a controlled wave. Cyrus felt it before he saw it, pressure climbing his legs, threatening to unbalance him.
He adjusted, knees bent, stance widened.
The wave passed, then Ursaluna advanced again.
This time, Cyrus moved with it, stepping into the wave instead of away from it, letting the force pass under him instead of through him.
The ground didn't give, Ursaluna paused.
Cyrus felt it then, Ursaluna was looing out for him. Cryus realized what Ursaluna was doing the first time, it was testing it power and him incase it made a mistake.
The next wave was stronger.
Cyrus faltered, caught himself on one knee. Pain lanced through his ribs.
Ursaluna's claws flexed, the ground stilled, It could have ended the exercise there... but what would be the fun in that.
Instead, it stepped closer.
Cyrus looked up into the red glow of its markings, heart pounding.
"You're not here to protect me," Cyrus said quietly laughing... "You're here to remind me what can't be controlled."
Ursaluna rumbled, deep, resonant, it turned away.
The battlefield collapsed, soil returning to neutral, the land exhaling as if relieved.
The training was over and Cyrus had learned allot.
Cyrus remained kneeling for a moment, letting the ground cool beneath his hands.
When he stood, Ursaluna had already moved back toward the fog, massive form blending with the earth that birthed it.
Anchored.
Gengar drifted closer, shadow brushing Cyrus's boots.
"Gen," it said softly.
Cyrus nodded. "Yeah, I know how to utilize him in battle, actually since your not grounded you and him will make great partners."
Ursaluna had not taught him how to fight, it had taught him where not to stand. That lesson would matter far more than power.