The Elder Butterfree eyed Bell with a mix of suspicion and concern, quickly scanning his body with Psychic.
Yet, he found no injuries.
This only deepened his confusion.
"This doesn't make sense. Psychic drains mental energy, but a single use shouldn't cause this much strain…"
"Unless…"
Just as the Elder pondered, Bell groaned and "regained consciousness."
"Ugh… my head…"
The Elder immediately flew closer, using his own Psychic to soothe Bell's mind.
"How do you feel? Any better?"
Bell was among the clan's elite—losing him was unthinkable.
"Elder… my head still hurts. I don't think I can continue the gathering…"
Bell spoke weakly, his act flawless. His goal was achieved; he had no interest in the mating spectacle.
"No need to worry. The gathering lasts three days—you'll have another chance!"
Misreading Bell's reluctance as disappointment, the Elder reassured him eagerly.
"And… it seems many females are waiting for your recovery."
With a flick of Psychic, the Elder adjusted Bell's position, letting him see the sky above.
Bell cracked his eyes open—only to find dozens of female Butterfree gazing down at him with worry, their expressions akin to devoted partners.
Guilt stabbed him. He shut his eyes again.
"Forgive me…"
"Rest on the Elder Tree. With your physique, you'll recover soon."
The Elder gently placed Bell and the other unconscious Butterfree onto the massive tree.
The gathering continued.
With Bell—the strongest competitor—temporarily out, things returned to normal.
Some found mates; others accepted defeat.
But one thing was clear: the atmosphere had lightened.
Even the females became less aggressive.
There was only one Bell, and Butterfree mated for life—they couldn't afford to wait.
Meanwhile, Bell lounged comfortably on a branch, pulling up his status screen.
Host: Butterfree (Bell)
Type: Bug / Flying
Potential: Yellow
Level: LV 20
Ability: Compound Eyes
Moves: Tackle, String Shot, Bug Bite, Gust, Harden, Supersonic, Confusion, Sleep Powder, Stun Spore, Poison Powder, Tailwind, Psychic, Whirlwind, Psybeam.
He'd learned two new moves—Whirlwind (a Normal-type status move) and Psybeam (a Psychic-type special attack).
Not bad at all.
Leveling up meant getting stronger—the ultimate reward for his grinding.
"Joining this clan was the right move. Not only do I have protection, but leveling is easier too. So much EXP, zero revenge risks… this is paradise."
As his Psychic energy slowly replenished, Bell reflected on his progress.
Though he could only use Psychic once per battle, the payoff was always worth it.
From the canyon ambush to today's gathering, the move had never let him down.
No wonder the Elder said he envied it—this move is busted.
"How's your recovery?"
The Elder's voice echoed in his mind. Bell quickly feigned weakness.
"My head… still foggy. It hurts…"
The Elder flew closer, his concern deepening at Bell's pained expression.
"Could it be… damage to his mental core?"
It was possible. Overusing Psychic without sufficient mental strength could drain one's psychic reserves, harming the core itself.
He'd seen it before.
"Wait here. I'll fetch a medicinal herb."
Before Bell could protest, the Elder zipped away.
Bell sighed. "I'll come clean when he returns…"
He just didn't want offspring—no need to keep lying to someone who genuinely cared.
Pokémon shouldn't be this deceitful.
By noon, the first day's gathering concluded.
Pairs of Butterfree drifted down, beginning their courtship. Reproduction could wait.
Those without mates still had two more chances—though competition would only intensify.
Females were scarce, and powerful males lurked in the ranks.
"Huh? Why isn't the Elder back yet?"
Bell frowned. At the Elder's speed, he should've returned by now.
SCREECH!
A sharp cry pierced the air.
Every Butterfree froze, eyes snapping toward the sound.
The atmosphere turned tense.
The elder Butterfree—veterans ranging from LV 30 to 40—fluttered forward, shielding the younger clan members.
Bell's eyes widened. "Damn. These old-timers are stacked."
"Where's the Elder?!"
The guide Butterfree—now the highest-leveled present—stepped up.
"He went to gather herbs," Bell explained, unease creeping into his voice.
"Herbs? He should've been back by—"
"Look! Is that the Elder?!"
A panicked shout cut him off.
All eyes turned skyward.
A lone Butterfree darted and weaved, locked in a deadly dance with three massive birds.
The lone figure—their Elder—was surrounded.
"All combat-ready members, with me! Rescue the Elder!"
The guide Butterfree barked orders. The veterans surged forward, leaving only a few elders behind.
Bell tried to sneak after them, but an elder blocked him.
"Stay put! It's too dangerous!"
Helpless, Bell clenched his wings.
This is my fault.
Even if he couldn't fight, he could've supported from the rear—status moves, distractions, anything.
Just as frustration peaked, shadows flickered at the territory's edge—advancing straight toward the clan.