John stared at the Enigma Berry tree with satisfaction. Thirty-four berries in total. A remarkable haul. He carefully placed all the fruit into his secret base, their unique aroma faint but promising. Yet, his gaze lingered on the tree.
"Should I take the tree too?" he muttered, a tinge of hesitation in his voice.
The thought intrigued him, but doubt crept in. "Can Enigma Berry trees even grow in my base?" He frowned, weighing the pros and cons. His skills as a gardener were... questionable at best. Rare fruit trees were leagues beyond his current abilities. Even with all the fancy tech and utilities in his secret base, the tree's survival wasn't guaranteed.
"Nah, I'll take It, If I can't grow It by myslef I just can sell It to someone." he decided. A tree deserved proper care, and he wasn't the right person to provide it. Instead, he resolved to sell it to someone more qualified—someone who could nurture it and ensure its fruits endured.
Still, the tree's presence puzzled him. "How did nobody find this earlier?" he wondered aloud. The answer seemed obvious. A nearby underground river could have carried fallen berries downstream, scattering them far from the tree's origin. That would explain why the tree itself remained undiscovered.
Content with his reasoning, John retrieved his trusty Dowsing Machine to check for more treasures. To his surprise, the arrow still pointed forward, past the tree and into the rock wall beyond.
"Seriously? There's more?" His curiosity burned brighter.
John approached the wall, tapping its surface. No hidden mechanisms revealed themselves. "Alright then," he said with a sly grin, releasing a Pokeball. "Gabite, let's get digging!"
The dragon-like Pokemon roared in acknowledgment, its claws scraping into the rock with practiced precision. John followed close behind, Dowsing Machine in hand, ensuring they stayed on the right track. The rhythmic sound of Gabite's claws digging echoed in the confined space, stirring John's imagination.
"Maybe I got it wrong," he thought, second-guessing himself. "The treasure could be on the other side of this mountain. I might've taken the long way around."
But his musings were interrupted when Gabite's claws broke through to an open chamber. The sudden emptiness ahead caught them both by surprise. John motioned for Gardevoir to light the way, and a ball of light floated into the void, revealing a cavernous space.
John stepped inside cautiously, his gaze sweeping across the room. What greeted him was far from what he had expected. The chamber wasn't a tomb or treasure hoard—it was an altar. To the left stood a massive mural depicting ancient people worshiping a meteor. In its center was an ominous, eye-like shape with a yellow sclera and blue iris.
"What kind of mythology is this?" he murmured, his fingers tracing the mural's edges. The sight stirred an unease he couldn't quite shake.
To his right, a staircase spiraled downward into deeper darkness. And in front of the mural, atop a pedestal, rested a purple, crystalline object. The Dowsing Machine's arrow pointed directly at it.
"So that's the treasure," John muttered, approaching the pedestal. Carefully, he picked up the crystal, its surface cool to the touch. It was lighter than he'd expected, but its faint glow hinted at something extraordinary. Curiosity piqued, he reached into his bag and pulled out his trusty Gameboy—a multi-functional device outfitted with scanning capabilities.
The screen lit up, identifying the object as the Cocoon of Sleep.
John's heart skipped a beat. "Cocoon of Sleep? Wait... isn't this..." His mind raced as fragments of lore pieced together. "This must be Jirachi!"
Jirachi—the mythical Pokemon that awakened once every thousand years under the light of the Millennium Comet, granting any wish during its brief awakening. And here it was, slumbering in crystal form.
For a moment, John was struck by the enormity of his discovery. The implications were staggering. This wasn't just treasure—it was legend. He clutched the cocoon tightly, his mind buzzing with possibilities.
But his moment of awe was short-lived. A low rumble vibrated through the cavern, followed by the sound of metal grinding against stone. John turned toward the staircase. The wall beneath it had been breached, and from the shadows emerged figures armed with drilling equipment and flashlights.
"The Archaeological Association," John whispered, recognizing the same group he had seen earlier in the forest. His stomach churned. Their expressions weren't friendly, and their intentions were clear: they wanted what he had found.