"Druddigon, Dragon Claw!"
By now, the Druddigon puppets had fully clashed with the wild Hydreigon.
The Hydreigon bared its bone-chilling, razor-sharp fangs, thick saliva dripping from its jaws onto the stone floor.
The Druddigon lunged forward, swinging their glowing green claws wildly at the three-headed dragon.
The battlefield devolved into total chaos.
Hydreigon's three massive heads bit down savagely on one of the Druddigon, tearing through its hide. Crimson blood welled and flowed from the deep gashes.
Driven by the sharp scent of fresh blood, the compromised Druddigon only grew more frenzied.
Just as I thought, these Druddigon feel absolute zero pain.
The chemical mutagens used to control them have completely fried their pain receptors.
This is truly a biological weapon explicitly engineered for warfare. I never calculated the Unovan Dragon Clan would harbor such dark, unbridled geopolitical ambitions.
Feng Che analyzed the unfolding clash silently, a cold focus settling behind his mask. He realized that what the clan had exposed to the public was merely the absolute tip of the iceberg.
The Unovan Dragon Clan might very well be the single most powerful hidden superpower dominating this entire continent.
Otherwise, there was zero logical layout for how Iris could have forcefully unseated the competition to claim the Champion throne of the Unova League without their absolute institutional backing.
Parallel to the main clash, Feng Che's Deino was smoothly siphoning its opponent's tracking bandwidth, handling its assigned Druddigon with absolute ease.
Saddled beneath its massive physical volume, the Druddigon's displacement was sluggish. Deino continuously slipped into its blind spots, darting erratically through the shadows.
Every few seconds, the infant dragon unchained a rapid-fire Dragon Pulse from the blind angles, continuously disrupting and irritating the tyrant.
Unable to lock its coordinates onto the agile infant, the Druddigon's neural loops began to degrade, its movements turning noticeble erratic and frantic.
As my analytics predicted, these crude mind-control drugs carry severe behavioral degradation subroutines.
A trace of icy disdain flickered across Feng Che's deep obsidian irises.
The Druddigon unhinged its jaws, a massive cluster of burning red sparks rapidly condensing within its throat before it projected a torrential column of fire toward Deino.
Deino merely initialized Dig, diving head-first beneath the sub-soil layer to cleanly neutralize the trajectory of the fire stream.
"Dammit all!"
Auditing the field, Poison Dragon clenched his calloused fists in profound fury. He tracked that his Dragalge division and his Druddigon puppets had been completely gridlocked and neutralized by Feng Che's placement.
Reaching down to his belt harness, he unsealed an exceptionally premium capsule to deploy an additional asset.
The newly materialized companion was an incredibly rare Goodra.
Despite its towering, muscular physical clearance, members of the Goodra lineage were historically cataloged as possessing an exceptionally gentle, docile behavioral disposition.
Its primary rubbery skin was sheathed in a sleek, glossy light-purple pigment layer, smooth as polished glass.
It supported a gargantuan, hyper-dense tail assembly, its neck and caudal segments detailed by distinct, neon-green circular mineral rings.
A pair of hyper-elongated, highly muscular cranial tentacles crests its crown, engineered natively to deliver full-torque blunt strikes or clamp and fling hostile targets across the field.
Its entire chassis continuously secreted a high-volume layer of thick slime, with the heaviest concentration pooling visibly across its hands and lower jaw lining.
By leveraging the high-tensile elasticity hard-coded into its tentacles, Goodra could launch a close-quarters physical offensive that comfortably matched the combined punching force of exactly one hundred professional human boxers.
Furthermore, nestled directly beneath its slippery, gelatinous hide was a massive insulation layer of dense body fat, allowing its system to fluidly buffer, damp, and redirect incoming blunt impacts without registering damage.
However, the specific Goodra reporting to this ring was a highly corrupted anomaly—its gelatinous slime layer continuously weeping an immense volume of deep purple, highly toxic acid fluid that emitted a rancid, choking stench.
The putrid odor caking the air meticulously mirrored a bio-hazardous mixture of rotting municipal garbage and wet linen socks left unwashed for a month.
Visually, this grotesque specimen resembled an unholy, stitched-together genetic combination of a common Goodra and an Alolan Muk.
The exact millisecond it unhinged from its capsule, a massive pool of viscous purple slime accumulated flawlessly beneath its lower limbs, the corrosive fluid aggressively eating through the solid concrete bedrock as thick plumes of acrid white steam geysered into the airspace.
"Behold my absolute ultimate masterpiece!"
"My laboratories successfully bypassed standard evolutionary restrictions, leveraging advanced transgenic splicing techniques to manually inject the hyper-lethal toxic genome of a Muk straight into a Goodra's cellular engine!"
"My handlers went through several high-value Goodra test subjects before our synthesis algorithms finally stabilized this perfect sovereign!"
"True to our design logs, its system successfully forced an evolutionary mutation to permanently awaken the Poison type chromosome!"
"The chemical potency of its toxic secretions scales to exactly one hundred times the purity logged by standard factory-spec Poison-type assets! I am deeply curious to verify if your precious alien bug can parse a payload of this caliber without its internal organs dissolving into liquid sludge!"
Poison Dragon unleased a sinister, cackling laugh, his psychological metrics tracking straight into supreme satisfaction as he gloated over his unholy creation.
"Goodra, dissolve their system—Dragon Pulse!"
A suffocating aura of advanced corrosion instantly blanketed Goodra's coordinate block. It unhinged its slimy jaws, massive ribbons of toxic purple sludge continuously weeping from its skin to splatter onto the flagstones.
It projected a monumental column of purple-tinted draconic plasma straight down the center channel.
Wherever the toxic Dragon Pulse passed, the surrounding subterranean flora and ancient root mats withered and blackened at an accelerated, visual velocity, completely vaporizing into wisps of green smoke upon material contact.
Parallel to the track, Naganadel had just completed its processing cycle, smoothly digesting the residual venom contributed by the Dragalge units.
Confronted by the massive toxic feast screaming down the channel, the extraterrestrial dominator uncharacteristically let out a line of clear, ravenous drool from its mandibles.
Naganadel crossed its purple chitinous claws, initializing Venoshock.
A brilliant, deep-violet arc of kinetic plasma cut through the air, cleanly bisectioning and fracturing the oncoming Dragon Pulse column into dissolving halves mid-flight.
Without a single frame of delay, the Ultra Beast activated its syringe-like caudal lance, unchaining an immense high-vacuum intake loop that siphoned the remaining toxic splatter straight out from the airspace into its internal chemical capacitors.
"My analytics anticipated this exact behavioral loop!"
"The advanced chemical compounds hard-coded into my Goodra's slime are caked in maximum-potency, flesh-eating acids!"
"The exact frame your alien asset foolishly siphoned that fluid into its internal furnace, the corrosive toxins initialized a systemic breakdown script to permanently liquefy its central organ walls from the inside out!"
"What an administrative waste... Had an exotic Ultra Beast of this caliber been bankrolled to my private laboratories instead, my teams could have cultivated the ultimate, world-ending Poison/Dragon sovereign," Poison Dragon lamented with mock disappointment.
He sighed dramatically, acting as if Naganadel's cellular engine were already on the verge of total stasis collapse.
"Is that the absolute limit of your calculations?"
Feng Che let out a low, cold chuckle behind his mask. He commanded absolute data clearance regarding the true, world-ending toxicity thresholds sleeping inside Naganadel's marrow; to an apex extradimensional predator of that tier, Goodra's customized transgenic bile was nothing more than a premium, savory protein shake.
Right at this precise chronological second, a sudden structural displacement rattled the entry channel, and Proctor Victor violently breached the foliage of the brush.
"Hold your hands and freeze your consoles, Poison Dragon!"
Victor's authoritative roar cut through the battle frequencies, forcefully logging a termination cue over the match.
"Should your stable persist in authorizing offensive commands across this ring, even your biological grandfather the Second Grand Elder cannot save your entity from total execution!"
"These coordinates map strictly within the protected interior sanctuaries of the Dragon's Den—laws established by the high council explicitly forbid the manual capture or subjugation of any indigenous dragon monarch nesting within these sectors!"
Proctor Victor had aggressively siphoned his personal Dragon Force to interface alongside the recovered senior Hydreigon, siphoning the comprehensive historical logs of the skirmish straight into his analytical faculties.
"Had my patrolling vector not crossed these specific coordinates by pure statistical happenstance, my office would have remained completely blind to this treasonous operation!"
"Your team deliberately staged a covert underworld ambush to corner the Hydreigon patriarch, explicitly intending to incite a catastrophic, bloody feud between the wild dragon legions and our human clan!"
"Furthermore, your terminal has authorized the unlawful manufacturing of brain-wiped Druddigon puppets, supplemented by the illegal utilization of restricted transgenic splicing to mass-produce a corrupted Poison-variant Goodra!"
"Poison Dragon, your entity stands verified of breaching the absolute highest constitutional bylaws of the Dragon Clan. By the sovereign authority vested in my office, I am programmatically cleared to execute your immediate arrest!"
Victor aggressively unzipped a master sphere from his belt, deploying his supreme, highest-conditioned Hydreigon onto the front lines.
"Hmph! Save your breath, Victor! Your station has yet to secure the Patriarch's scepter, meaning your clearance levels lack the necessary administrative weight to dictate policy over my head!"
Poison Dragon spat back with absolute, untamed arrogance, his jaw tightening beneath his mask.
Victor's Hydreigon failed to validate his speech. Unhinging its three massive craniums concurrently, it launched a maximum-yield Draco Meteor straight into the high rafters.
Dozens of colossal, white-hot draconic meteors violently plummeted out from the ceiling, systematically slamming onto the turf to instantly flatten, crush, and liquidate every single one of Poison Dragon's modified assets into the sand.
"Curse you... mark my designation, old man! This ledger will be balanced!"
Poison Dragon frantically clicked his keys to recall his broken, unconscious partners into their capsules. Unclipping a high-velocity Noivern from his harness, he gathered his two Skrelp grunts onto its leather back, fanning its wings to rocket deep into the exit tunnels to vanish from the sector.
Having successfully driven the rogue syndicate off the turf, Proctor Victor abstained from initializing a high-priority pursuit track.
He let out a long, deeply weathered sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly.
His calloused hands clenched into tight fists, thick blue veins violently pulsing along his forearms under the internal stress.
"My office tenders its professional apologies, entrant. Because the political machinery resting directly behind his back is anchored by the Second Grand Elder, my console truly lacks the active leverage to forcefully lock his person inside a cell tonight."
"At this precise chronological intersection, the internal infrastructure governing the entire Dragon Clan is caked in severe, multi-layered factional fragmentation."
"Had my vanguard forcefully liquidated Poison Dragon on this turf, the resulting data fracture would have instantaneously unchained a full-scale civil war, dividing our house down its center axis."
"Our clan is traversing its most volatile, hazardous historical epoch; my conscience refuses to let my name be archived as the definitive criminal who triggered the collapse of our line," Victor admitted, his tone thick with profound technical frustration.
"Ensure your visors maintain maximum vigilance across future brackets; Poison Dragon's network will invariably engineer a retributive ambush targeting your stable."
Victor directed a highly complex, deeply analytical look straight through the eye-slits of Feng Che's mask.
"My tracking nodes only intercepted this conflict because the micro-vibrations radiating from the Hydreigon's distress signals reached my personal Dragon Force arrays during my sweep."
"Preserve your parameters, boy. The crucible has only just begun."
Having completed his technical briefing, Victor turned to communicate alongside the younger alpha Hydreigon sovereign. The newly recovered dragon patriarch unhinged its primary jaw module, smoothly spitting a magnificent, palm-sized Dragon Blood Stone straight into Victor's hand, who casually transferred the prize onto Feng Che's table before fanning his wings to exit the coordinate block.