11 Chapter 11

Eevee's small form began to change right before their eyes, enveloped in a radiant aura. This strange, unknown energy made the Sneasels pause and hiss, retreating a step as if repelled by an invisible force. Eevee seemed to be evolving, taking on a different shape, her fur transforming, elongating into feeler-like ribbons.

Ignoring the intuitive warning, the most daring of the Sneasels lunged at the still-glowing Eevee. Just as the creature closed in, the bright light dimmed, giving way to an eerie, melodious cry from Eevee's direction. The sound waves hit the Sneasel like a physical force, sending it sprawling back several meters. The other two Sneasels skittered back hurriedly, clearly shaken by the unexpected display of power.

Emmet's eyes widened in both surprise and recognition as he watched the unfolding scene. He knew that sound, that attack. "Disarming Voice," he whispered to himself. A Fairy-type move, and Sneasels, being Dark and Ice types, were especially vulnerable to such attacks.

With his voice quivering but emboldened by a newfound hope, Emmet shouted, "Go get them, Eevee—no, I mean, Sylveon!" He could hardly believe the transformation before him, but his heart swelled with pride and hope as his Eevee now stood as a beautiful Sylveon, ready to face them all.

With a newfound elegance that she never possessed as an Eevee, Sylveon allowed her feeler-like ribbons to dance around her, a display that seemed almost ethereal. The Sneasels, being Dark types, were especially susceptible to the aura she was emitting. They hissed but ultimately steeled themselves for an attack, closing in on the Fairy-type Pokemon.

Sylveon waited until they were almost upon her, then unleashed a powerful Disarming Voice at almost point-blank range. The harmonious yet eerie sound reverberated, sending the Sneasels reeling backward, their bodies flinching from the deep psychic pain they felt.

Without giving them a chance to recover, Sylveon executed a Quick Attack that made her previous speed as an Eevee look sluggish. In a burst of light that Emmet recognized as the Take Down attack, she rammed into one of the Sneasels. The force sent it crashing into a nearby wall so hard that Emmet felt sure it wouldn't be standing again anytime soon, if ever.

One of the craftier Sneasels had already shaken off the effects of Disarming Voice and lunged at Sylveon, its claw shimmering with Steel energy. But Sylveon was quicker. She used her back paws to launch a Sand Attack into its eyes, blinding it momentarily. She then executed a Swift attack that rained down a cascade of stars on the disoriented creature. While it didn't knock him out, it was evident he was significantly weakened, still trying to shake the sand from his eyes.

Seizing the moment, one of Sylveon's ribbons shot out and wrapped around the Sneasel's throat. Then, using Quick Attack for added momentum, she swung the Sneasel into a pendulum motion. The ribbon guided its head into a pointed rock. The Sneasel went limp immediately, life extinguished.

The last Sneasel, now visibly trembling and flecked with the blood of its fallen companion, decided it had had enough. But as it turned to flee, Sylveon was upon it. Another Quick Attack closed the distance in a heartbeat. Then, almost pressing her muzzle against its face, she let out a Disarming Voice. The Sneasel fell to the ground, twitching for a few seconds before becoming still.

Just as Sylveon and Emmet shared a brief respite, the tension broke again. Two larger Sneasels burst onto the scene, eyes narrowing as they surveyed their fallen comrades. Snarls erupted from their mouths, their eyes locked onto Sylveon as if blaming her for the loss of their pack.

Wasting no time, Sylveon launched herself at the newcomers with another Quick Attack. One Sneasel was nimble enough to dodge, but the other wasn't as fortunate. The force of Sylveon's Take Down made an audible crunch as it connected. The older Sneasel was far from defeated, though. With a quick, retaliatory motion, it slashed its claw across Sylveon's side, drawing a line of crimson.

Emmet was torn. While he yearned to assist Sylveon in combat, his focus was inevitably drawn back to Firefly, who was still in a critical condition. Torn between the two, he chose to continue sending waves of his fledgling Heal Pulse towards Firefly, hoping that Sylveon could hold her own for just a bit longer.

With a grimace that spoke volumes of her discomfort, Sylveon let out another Disarming Voice. The harmonic cries seemed to torment the Sneasels to their core. One staggered back, clutching its ears, clearly rattled. However, the other, seemingly less affected, lunged at her, claws glinting ominously in the limited light.

Sylveon was flagging, but Emmet could see that the Efficiency Mastery was aiding her rapid adaptability. Dodging at the last possible moment, she couldn't entirely avoid a new gash appearing on her flank. Using this close proximity to her advantage, Sylveon spun around to land a biting attack on the Sneasel's leg. A pained howl erupted, but this maneuver left her vulnerable. The second Sneasel took this opening to rake its claws across her back, eliciting a wince from Sylveon.

Taking a deep breath, Sylveon launched a Swift attack. Stars burst from her form, hitting both Sneasels and making them stagger back. Yet, the determination in their eyes remained, fuelled by a thirst for vengeance that couldn't easily be quenched.

Seemingly in perfect sync, both Sneasels lunged. Sylveon had just enough time to launch a Sand Attack into one's eyes, blinding it temporarily. However, the other's claw found its mark, tearing through her shoulder. Her pain was manifest, not just in the cry she let out, but also in the droplets of blood that now spattered the ground.

With her energy reserves nearing empty, Sylveon's movements were noticeably slower. Despite this, she summoned the strength for another Take Down. The attack hit its mark, sending one Sneasel flying into a heap of rocks. It didn't get back up. But the recoil of the powerful move took its toll; Sylveon staggered, clearly drained.

The remaining Sneasel, its vision partially compromised, lunged in desperation. Its strike only managed a glancing blow. Seizing the moment, Sylveon clamped her jaws around its outstretched paw, tearing away a chunk of flesh as she withdrew.

Exhaustion clung to Sylveon like a second skin, her movements now lacking their earlier grace. Despite her fatigue, she centered herself for one final Disarming Voice. The fairy energy was almost palpable, the air thick with its power. The remaining Sneasel couldn't handle it. With a pained scream, it collapsed, the mental anguish proving too much to bear.

Summoning her remaining strength, Sylveon took a deep breath and aimed a Disarming Voice at the fainted Sneasels she had defeated earlier. She looked as though she was making sure they wouldn't rise to harm anyone else. The harmonic cries reverberated through the clearing, sealing the fate of the unconscious predators with a brutality uncharacteristic of a Fairy type.

Sylveon turned to face Emmet, her body adorned with the blood of the fallen Sneasels. Emmet met her gaze without flinching. In his eyes, these creatures were monsters, responsible for wiping out almost an entire community of Clefairies and taking the life of the Clefable that had saved him. His look didn't waver, even as it met her battle-hardened expression.

Limping towards Emmet, Sylveon seemed weary yet resilient. Emmet examined her injuries, relieved to find them already healing. The Fairy-Type energy that now flowed through her was accelerating the healing process. Still, the slight hitch in her step and her furrowed brow indicated her discomfort.

Just as Sylveon neared Emmet, a shrill voice pierced the air. A Cleffa cried out a warning. Sylveon's eyes widened, her body tensing as she used Quick Attack to catapult herself towards Emmet. In a split-second decision, Emmet tucked his head forward, feeling the rush of air as something narrowly missed him.

Before he could fully turn to identify the threat, he heard a sound that tightened his heart—a cry of pain from Sylveon. He saw her form slam into the wall like a ragdoll, her eyes filled with shock and agony. It was the first sound of vulnerability she'd made since her evolution.

And there it was, standing behind him— a Weaville, its claws dripping and its eyes filled with malice. Emmet felt a chill of dread seep into his bones. As he looked at the dark creature, he couldn't help but curse the universe for this relentless onslaught.

United by the desperate need to protect their remaining family, the Clefairies organized a hasty assault. They used Metronome, a move of unpredictable outcome, praying for something devastating. One Clefairy unleashed a Flamethrower that narrowly missed the Weavile, scorching the air. Another sent a small boulder hurtling at the dark creature with a Psychic attack. Each Clefairy engaged and then swiftly retreated, avoiding prolonged exposure to the Weavile's lethal claws.

Unperturbed, the Weavile danced around the attacks as if entertained. Its eyes gleamed with malevolence, almost as if it were encouraging the Clefairies' efforts. Occasionally, it swiped at them but intentionally missed, a malevolent grin spreading across its face. It was a game of false hope, designed to break the Clefairies' spirit.

Emmet cursed. It was working.

Emboldened, one Clefairy charged in, landing a Double Slap before attempting to retreat. It never got the chance though. With lightning speed, Weavile's claw struck, sending the Clefairy tumbling through the air to land motionless on the ground. A chilling chuckle escaped Weavile's mouth, increasing the sense of dread among the Clefairies.

Simultaneously, two young Cleffas undertook a different mission. Positioning themselves on either side of the wounded Sylveon, they used their small bodies to drag her toward Emmet and Firefly. Each tug was extremely tiring for such young and small creatures, but they persevered, driven by desperation. Sylveon's raspy breathing served as fuel to the feeling of urgency.

Back at the frontline, another Clefairy tried a different strategy. With a melodious Sing, it aimed to lull Weavile to sleep. For a split second, the predator's eyes drooped and everyone felt hope starts to blossom, but it violently shook its head and lunged at the Clefairy, claws glinting menacingly as it cleaved the still singing Clefairy in half.

In an instant, another Clefairy lay defeated. Weavile's blood drenched claws had found their mark, and the small pink body lay lifeless on the ground. The remaining Clefairies hesitated, their faces reflecting a blend of terror and hopelessness. They had lost too much to simply flee, and their resolve, though shaky, held them in place. Or maybe it was the fear, Emmet was not quite sure.

Finally, the Cleffas managed to drag Sylveon near Emmet and Firefly. They looked up at Emmet, their eyes filled with a combination of hope and desperate urgency. Emmet touched Sylveon's forehead, channeling the last remnants of his human-version of Heal Pulse into her, praying it would help. He was feeling empty of any energy already, but drew strength from sheer stubborn resolution to keep healing his pokemon.

As Emmet tried to mend Sylveon's wounds, his eyes darted back to the battlefield. The last two Clefairies were in a defensive posture, their bodies rigid and alert, ready to make a final stand against the sadistic Weavile.

Then, one Clefairy, its body quaking with tension, invoked Metronome once again. As Weavile chuckled darkly, the Clefairy suddenly erupted in a brilliant light, followed by an earth-shattering explosion. A thick cloud of dust enveloped the area, obscuring vision and drowning out sounds.

Emmet froze. The desperate Clefairy had invoked Explosion via Metronome—a sacrificial move, lethal for a creature without a body built to withstand it.

Emmet remained still, his functioning hand resting on Sylveon's forehead as he willed his residual healing ability into her. Though his focus was intense, the corner of his eye caught Firefly wincing in pain. She was sitting up now, rubbing her head where she'd taken a vicious blow, her eyes a mix of confusion and lingering pain.

As the dust from the explosion started to clear, tension enveloped the area. Emmet, a barely conscious Sylveon, a disoriented Firefly, and two Cleffas in a state of terror all fixed their gaze on what emerged from the cloud. The fucking Weaville stood there—bloody, battered, and burnt, but alive. Its eyes locked onto them, and what they saw was a deep, unyielding hatred.