The three little misfits—Oddish and the twin Poochyena brothers—were bouncing with excitement, tails wagging, and making happy little noises as they led David deeper into the forest. It was cute... right up until the mist thickened and David realized they were heading into territory where the trees looked like they'd been growing since the dawn of time, and probably had names like "Kevin the Eldritch Beech."
"Uh… you sure this is the shortcut to Disneyland?" David muttered, squinting through the white fog as it slowly wrapped around his legs like an ominous scarf.
Oddish twirled cheerfully. The Poochyena duo pranced ahead like unpaid tour guides with zero regard for health and safety regulations.
The deeper they went, the darker and weirder it got. Towering trees twisted overhead like something straight out of a horror movie's deleted scenes. Vines hung down like nooses. And then David spotted it.
A massive Seviper, coiled lazily on a thick branch, its scales a menacing swirl of black and deep purple. It was watching them. Not moving. Just... watching. Its tongue flicked in and out like it was taste-testing the air—or more specifically, him.
David froze mid-step. "Okay. That's not ominous at all."
He dared a glance upward. "Yep. Definitely giving 'constricts-you-in-your-sleep' energy."
Ralts, tucked safely in David's arms, looked up curiously.
"Don't look at it!" David whispered urgently. "If you don't look at it, maybe it thinks we're not on the menu."
As if on cue, a giant Ariados dropped down from a web in the distance. Its legs clacked against the branches with that unnatural spider-confidence, and David got a nice view of the creepy, mask-like marking on its back. It resembled a crying human face, which was definitely the cherry on top of his nightmare sundae.
"Fantastic," David muttered. "Snakes in trees, spiders with identity issues… All that's missing is a haunted ice cream truck."
His grip on Ralts tightened slightly. "Okay buddy, if this turns into a survival horror game, I'm sacrificing Tom first. Just so we're clear."
Yet, despite all the cinematic horror around him, something weird was happening.
The Seviper didn't strike.
The Ariados didn't lunge.
Both of them just watched. Like bouncers at a nightclub deciding whether David was VIP material or worth eating after dessert.
David glanced at the Pikachu sitting confidently on his shoulder, legs crossed like a chill bodyguard.
"…Oh," David muttered. "Right. You."
Pikachu met his eyes and gave a smug little nod, sparks crackling faintly around its cheeks.
It made sense now. In this part of the Mystery Zone, most of the Pokémon weren't exactly boss-tier. The Seviper and Ariados he'd just passed were probably still Common rank. Pikachu, on the other hand, was a certified menace, hovering near professional-tier strength—especially out here, where power levels weren't just for bragging rights but for staying uneaten.
David let out a slow, relieved breath. "So… they're afraid of you, huh?"
Pikachu shrugged modestly, but David could tell it was milking the moment.
"Well, I guess I'll keep acting brave," David muttered. "You keep being the actual threat."
David trudged behind his three "loyal" companions—Oddish and the two overly excited Poochyena—as they zigzagged through the increasingly dense forest. At this point, it felt less like a walk in nature and more like an unlicensed jungle tour with zero insurance and way too much enthusiasm from the guides.
"Guys, we've passed that weird tree stump three times," David muttered, brushing a vine off his face for the hundredth time. "If you lead me into a Beedrill nest, I'm feeding you to them first."
The trio, completely ignoring his very reasonable concerns, continued hopping along like they owned the place. They were definitely familiar with the terrain—too familiar, in fact. David started getting the distinct feeling that he wasn't being led to a cool hidden berry stash or a secret waterfall. This felt suspiciously like a setup.
After about five more minutes of following them through what he was pretty sure was actual Pokémon-infested wilderness—and not in the fun touristy way—they finally stopped in front of a cave entrance. It was dark. It was wide. It was ominous. And, of course, it reeked of something that hadn't brushed its teeth since 1992.
The three little guys turned back toward David and nodded proudly, like they'd just led him to the promised land.
David narrowed his eyes. "You brought me to a cave? What is this, a group field trip to get murdered?"
He crouched beside them and lowered his voice. "You said this was where a powerful Pokémon lives. What kind of 'powerful' are we talking? Because so far, everything I've seen in this Mystery Zone has been slightly stronger than Jake's Magikarp."
He peered into the darkness, squinting. "Don't tell me this is just another overgrown bug or something. I came out here hoping to find a challenge for Pikachu. You know, maybe a professional-level Pokémon so we could finally push past level 39."
David's eyes sparkled for a moment at the thought. One more level. That's all Pikachu needed to break through to gym-level strength. Then they could stop avoiding everything with teeth and claws and start dishing out some real electricity.
But this? This didn't feel promising.
He turned to ask the trio again, but before a single sarcastic word could leave his mouth—
ROAR.
The forest shook.
David froze.
Another roar followed. Then another.
It sounded like someone had just plugged a subwoofer into the Earth's core.
The ground began to vibrate beneath his feet. Twigs snapped. Leaves rustled. A deep, ominous presence rolled out from the cave like a thick fog of doom.
David darted behind a tree, dragging the three little guys with him like a terrified shepherd yanking wayward sheep.
And then they emerged.
A group of massive, tan-colored Ursaring lumbered out of the cave on their hind legs like angry bouncers at a nightclub no one wanted to be in. Their thick fur rippled with muscle, and their eyes—serious, sharp, way-too-intelligent eyes—were all staring upward toward the sky, like they were waiting for something. Or someone.
David peeked around the tree and immediately regretted it.
"…Is that twenty Ursaring?" he whispered to himself. "No, wait… twenty-five? Is that one wearing a scar across its eye?!"
He turned slowly to the three little traitors beside him and pointed stiffly toward the cave.
"You meant them?!"
The Poochyena twins and Oddish nodded like smug little gremlins. Their faces practically screamed: Aren't you impressed?
David's soul left his body for a moment.
He stared at them in disbelief. "You brought me all the way out here... to fight a BEAR CONVENTION?"
They just kept nodding.
[+50 Negative Emotion Points Acquired from David…]
"Unbelievable," he muttered. "I give you food, I protect you from bug monsters, and this is how you repay me? You want me flattened by a forest gang?"
The three of them just wagged their tails and wiggled happily, clearly enjoying the moment far too much. David could almost hear their inner monologue: What? You beat us up! Time for a rematch—with backup!
To be fair, they weren't wrong. This Ursaring horde wasn't just for show.
David's gaze zeroed in on the biggest one, a mountain of fur and claws standing at the cave's mouth like a tribal chief. He could practically feel the power radiating off it.
"Peak professional rank," David whispered. "Great. Just great."
Sure, Pikachu might be able to hold its own in a one-on-one. But this wasn't a one-on-one.
Even the weakest Ursaring in that crowd looked like it ate protein powder for breakfast and trained by lifting trees. Most of them hovered at level 30 or above—already brushing the edge of professional rank.
David let out a low groan.
"Elite trainers would run from this," he muttered, backing up slowly. "Even Tom would think twice before charging in—and he once tried to catch a Beedrill with a frying pan."
He looked down at Pikachu, who was perched confidently on his shoulder, sparks gently crackling.
"Okay buddy," David whispered. "On a scale of one to run, how doomed are we right now?"
Pikachu gave a tiny shrug.
Fantastic.
****
David stood behind the thick trunk of a tree, still squinting at the mob of Ursaring stomping around like they were hosting a family reunion. But something didn't sit right.
"Wait a second," David muttered, rubbing his chin. "Aren't Ursaring supposed to be loners? Like, brooding forest hermits with anger issues?"
Yet here they were—twenty or thirty massive bear Pokémon, just vibing together like it was Bear Fest 2025. Not a single one looked remotely antisocial. In fact, the whole group looked like they had a synchronized routine or something.
His eyes drifted to the cave behind them. Rumor had it that Ursarings had a strange obsession with hoarding shiny stones inside their dens. Like raccoons with abs.
David raised an eyebrow. "Maybe it's a rock-collecting cult."
As the idea bounced around his brain, a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He turned to Pikachu, who was perched on his shoulder like an electrified squirrel on coffee break.
"Hey, Pikachu," David whispered. "You can probably take that group of bears, right?"
Pikachu's ears twitched. Slowly, it turned its head to stare at David like he'd just asked it to wrestle a tank.
"Pika?" Pikachu blinked. Then it jabbed a paw at its own chest. "Pika-CHU?!"
The expression was pure betrayal. The kind of look you'd give someone if they asked you to jump into a volcano for fun.
"You want me to fight that?" Pikachu pointed a tiny paw at the army of bear-shaped muscle tanks growling near the cave.
Then, without a word, Pikachu hopped off David's shoulder, marched over to the base of a nearby tree, folded its little arms, and plopped itself down in protest.
"Pika. Pika pickup."
Translation: You've officially lost your damn mind. Proceed if you want to die. I'm out.
The ears flattened, the tail flicked, and Pikachu leaned back like a bitter veteran watching some rookie walk into disaster.
David blinked. "Okay, fair."
[+50 Negative Emotion Points acquired from Pikachu…]
Meanwhile, the three little traitors—Oddish and the two smug Poochyena—were giggling behind their paws. Their faces lit up with wicked glee as they watched David get humiliated.
Oh, you like bullying weaklings, huh? Who's the weakling now, Mr. Electricity Master?
David felt the sting of their judgment. "Great," he muttered. "Even the wildlife thinks I'm pathetic now."
Just then, the Ralts nestled in his arms suddenly perked up and pointed skyward, waving its stubby arms like an alarm system on full blast.
"Lalu! Lalu!"
David glanced up, puzzled. "What is it, Ralts? Did Jake finally find his way out of the Mystery Zone?"
But before he could follow that dumb thought, a strange buzzing noise filled the air—like a massive swarm of mosquitoes had learned how to harmonize.
WHUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMM.
The noise grew louder, sharper. And then, descending from the treetops like an aerial SWAT team, came a swarm of Beedrill.
David's eyes widened. "Oh… oh that's bad."
Each Beedrill hovered in place, flapping its wings like angry chainsaws. Their menacing eyes locked straight onto the Ursaring squad below, and the tension was instant. Like two gangs showing up at the same buffet.
"These guys mean business," David whispered, ducking back behind the tree. "That's the final form of Weedle, right? The one with the venom-stabbing syringe arms?"
He shivered.
Beedrill were no joke. Their wings could slice through the air at nearly sonic speeds, and their twin arm-barbs could pierce through stone, flesh, or overconfident trainers. And unlike Ursaring, Beedrill definitely had a strong sense of territory.
David wiped sweat from his brow. "So why the hell are they here? This isn't their turf. They're supposed to patrol the other half of the forest—where the smell of honey and death lives."
Even Pikachu, from its sulky spot under the tree, glanced up with concern. Ralts's eyes glowed faintly, sensing something was off. Something unnatural.
This wasn't just a random fly-by. Something had disturbed the Beedrill hive—and now they were flying into Ursaring territory?
Now that was weird.
In any other situation, the two groups would avoid each other. But now, it was like someone dropped two rival football teams into a backyard barbecue and handed them one plate of food.
The forest went dead quiet.
Then—
"HO HO HO HO!!" the Ursaring roared, stomping their feet, fur bristling with hostility.
"BUZZZZZ!" screeched the Beedrill, barbs twitching menacingly.
David squinted from his hiding spot. He had no clue what Pokémon were actually saying, but judging by their body language, they were not exchanging birthday invitations.
Pikachu raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Oddish and the Poochyena suddenly went silent. The mischief drained from their faces as they listened in. Whatever the bears and bugs were saying, it wasn't good. Even the smallest Poochyena gulped and lowered its head.
Ralts pressed its forehead into David's chest, shivering slightly. Its psychic antennae were picking up waves of pure aggression. David glanced down.
"Don't worry," he said quietly, patting its head. "We're not dumb enough to get in the middle of that... I hope."
Pikachu, still sitting with its arms crossed, let out a tired sigh. If it could talk, it would've said: I should've stayed with Luna.
The whole clearing stood frozen—Ursaring and Beedrill, growling and buzzing, eyes locked and ready to explode.
David stared.
"Yup," he muttered. "We're so screwed."
And then it happened.
The forest exploded into chaos.
The leader of the Ursaring clan let out a booming roar like a cranky dad being told the TV remote was missing. Across the clearing, the Beedrill commander responded with an angry buzz that sounded like a chainsaw revving up for war.
Seconds later, both sides launched forward, and the peaceful patch of woodland was instantly transformed into an all-out turf war. Bear claws slashed, poison barbs stabbed, and the air was filled with roaring, buzzing, and the occasional unfortunate tree getting demolished in the crossfire.
From behind his trusty tree shield, David peeked out and watched the mayhem unfold with wide eyes.
"Oh great," he whispered. "Nature's having a civil war, and I'm the idiot who brought snacks."
The Ursaring had strength—every strike from those massive claws could splinter logs like toothpicks. They weren't fast, but when they hit, things stayed hit. The Beedrill, on the other hand, were like angry darts. They were faster, more agile, and had numbers on their side, swarming in formation like it was a battle straight out of an insect-themed action movie.
David stayed crouched behind the tree, clutching Pikachu and Ralts like they were his emotional support plushies. The three little Pokémon beside him—Oddish and the two Poochyena—had stopped laughing entirely. Their earlier prank-fueled enthusiasm had drained faster than Tom's math grades.
The trio exchanged guilty glances, regret sinking into their fuzzy faces. What started as a mischievous plan to watch David get chased by angry bears had suddenly turned into a full-blown war zone.
None of them had wanted this.
The Mystery Zone's outer edge was supposed to be relatively calm—basically Pokémon suburbia. Stronger Pokémon stuck to the deeper parts of the zone, while the weaker ones survived out here, trying to avoid being kicked around.
But it wasn't always like this.
A long time ago, this area had been chaotic and violent. There were too many Pokémon, too little food, and way too many territorial disputes. The forest had been one big Black Friday sale, minus the sales.
Then came the king of the forest.
Nobody knew exactly what species it was—some said it was a majestic Sawsbuck, others whispered about a wise Alakazam—but it brought order. It taught Pokémon how to share, how to help the weak, and how to survive without tearing each other's faces off.
That peace lasted… until now.
The Beedrill and Ursaring clashed harder than David and Tom during group projects. And the three little pranksters? Their heads were bowed now, ears low, expressions heavy. The chaos had drowned out their mischief.
Meanwhile…
David had already sneak-walked away like a cartoon thief, Ralts in one arm, Pikachu under the other.
He wasn't stupid. He didn't speak Pokémon, but he understood Ursaring pretty well.
Especially when it came to their favorite hobby—hoarding shiny junk in caves.
And with twenty to thirty of them in a single spot? That cave probably had enough loot to make a Dragonite drool.
David stopped near the cave entrance and rubbed his chin.
"Okay, I know what you're thinking," he whispered to Ralts and Pikachu. "This seems like a bad idea. And you'd be absolutely right."
He paused.
"But—there's treasure in there. Glorious, sparkly, sellable treasure."
Pikachu facepalmed. Ralts looked mildly concerned, but neither one tried to stop him. Clearly, they were used to David's dumb plans by now.
"And we've got Ralts here," David added, pointing. "Teleportation! Worst case, we grab the goods and yeet."
He gave them both a thumbs up.
"As for those three pranksters? They'll be fine. Same neighborhood and all. The Ursaring won't maul their own local gremlins... probably."
And with that final justification, David tiptoed into the Ursaring's cave like a man walking into a lion's den with a coupon.
The cave was dark, musty, and eerily quiet, except for the faint sound of the Pokémon war raging in the background. David took a few cautious steps inside.
Then—
DING!
System Notification: Fire Stone detected – 1 kilometer ahead!
DING!
Smooth Rock detected – 1 kilometer ahead!
David's eyes lit up like a slot machine hitting triple sevens. His pupils practically turned into Poké-dollar signs.
"Ohoho," he whispered, grinning like a Gengar with secrets. "This... this is going to be a haul."
Images of glittering piles of evolutionary stones and rare items danced in his imagination. He pictured himself lounging on a golden hill made of Alliance coins, sipping berry juice through a straw while Pikachu massaged his shoulders.
"Let's go!" he whispered with excitement, nearly tripping over himself as he picked up the pace.
Behind him, Pikachu and Ralts shared a look that could only be described as this idiot again.
The little Psychic-type sighed and telepathically pinged Pikachu with a silent, resigned thought.
He's not coming back normal, is he?
Pikachu just shook its head, tail twitching.
Hopeless.
Their trainer had officially gone full looting mode.
And they were stuck with him.
****
"Hey—HEY! Don't give me that look, Pikachu! I'm doing this to keep food in your bowl, you spoiled little spark rat!"
David was in full dramatic dad-mode, pacing back and forth with wild gestures while glaring at his Pokémon like a man arguing with his tax bill.
"If we converted that mystery treasure you swallowed last week into Alliance coins, we'd be talking hundreds of millions! Do you know how many zeroes that is?!"
Pikachu blinked innocently, chewing on a berry it had just snatched from David's bag. Zero remorse. Maximum crunch.
David turned to Ralts next, pointing an accusing finger. "And YOU! You deep-fried my entire kitchen! The repair bill was so high, I had to fake cry just to get a discount!"
Ralts avoided eye contact, pretending to suddenly be very interested in the cave wall. Classic guilt dodge.
David wasn't finished. Oh no.
"Also! That Protect move you pulled off last time? Do you know how much that cost in training and recovery items? A million Alliance coins! A million! You two are burning holes in my wallet faster than Jake burns toast!"
Pikachu folded its arms. Ralts rolled its eyes. Neither looked particularly sympathetic. David, now fully immersed in broke dad energy, dramatically clutched his chest.
"All I do is give! My time, my money, my sanity! All for you two! And what do I get in return? Judgy stares and a kitchen explosion!"
He stared into the distance with the hollow eyes of a man who once believed raising Pokémon would be rewarding.
"I paid so much for this..."
Determined to teach them a lesson, David began scheming on the spot.
"Right. From now on, Ralts—you're getting extra chores. Time to pull your psychic weight."
Ralts blinked slowly. It sensed danger.
"And Pikachu," David continued ominously, "I'm sending you to a power plant next week. You're gonna work double shifts, charge batteries, feel what it's like to support a family. Let's see how sassy you are after a day of minimum wage voltage labor."
The two Pokémon exchanged a silent look. Their trainer had officially lost it. Again.
They walked deeper into the cave, the cold, rocky walls stretching around them like the digestive system of some ancient giant Onix. After ten long minutes of hiking through twists, turns, and the occasional mysterious puddle, David's system finally chimed again.
[Smooth Rock detected – 95 meters ahead!]
He clapped his hands together like a kid about to unwrap a gaming console on his birthday.
"Alright, payday's near!"
His eyes sparkled, and he scanned the area until finally spotting it—a separate chamber branching off to the side, faintly glowing from within. David peeked inside... and stopped dead in his tracks.
There it was.
A treasure hoard so glorious, it would make a Garchomp cry tears of capitalism.
Berries of every color were stacked like fruit parfaits. Neatly sealed jars of rich golden Beedrill honey lined the corners. Rare stones shimmered from under piles of carefully organized loot. And smack in the center, a pristine Smooth Rock, practically humming with energy.
David's mouth hung open.
"This... this is it... this is the jackpot."
His pupils practically turned into spinning gold coins. He imagined himself living in a luxury penthouse, sipping Oran juice from crystal glasses, surrounded by Poké-merchandise he didn't need.
The system chimed again with the full rundown.
[Top-grade Smooth Rock detected!]
[Beedrill Honey – Premium quality!]
[Assorted berries – Perfect for top-tier energy cube crafting!]
David was vibrating with excitement. "I'm gonna be rich!"
He stepped forward, then froze.
Ralts and Pikachu were staring at him like he'd just proposed selling their organs for rent money.
"Don't look at me like that! I'm not looting, I'm strategically redistributing wealth!" David said, dramatically justifying his impending heist.
Of course, reality hit fast. Ralts could only Teleport with limited weight, and David was one human. There was no waythey could carry everything out.
He sighed, squatting next to the treasure pile like a kid who just realized he couldn't eat the entire buffet.
"Alright, plan B," he muttered. "Pick only the good stuff."
He set Pikachu and Ralts on the ground, rubbing his hands together. "You two help me pick. No junk. We take what matters."
Pikachu immediately waddled toward the honey like it had found heaven in a jar. Ralts hovered toward the berries, eyes scanning like a grocery store manager on inventory day.
David crouched, beginning to sort through the riches with the precision of a man picking lottery tickets.
"I swear," he muttered to himself, stuffing a fire stone into his pack, "if I have to eat instant noodles for one more week because of you two..."
The treasure haul had begun.
And David was going to make sure it was worth every coin.
***
Behind David, a strange chill crept up his spine. You know that moment when you just know someone—or something—is watching you? Yeah, that.
He felt a slight tug on the back of his pants.
"Not now, Pikachu," David muttered, eyes locked on a particularly shiny pile of berries. "I'm picking out the good stuff. Priorities, alright?"
"Pika?" came a confused response—from twenty feet away.
David froze mid-grab.
"Wait… if Pikachu's over there... then…"
He spun around like someone caught swiping candy from a baby.
Standing behind him—no, staring into his soul—were a dozen wide-eyed Teddiursa. Little fuzzy bear cubs. Adorable? Yes. Intimidating? Also yes, especially when you're in the middle of robbing their house.
Their button noses twitched suspiciously. Their eyes were locked on him like a line-up of tiny furry FBI agents.
David gave them a sheepish smile, the kind that says, "Haha... wow, what a funny misunderstanding! Please don't call your massive, cave-dwelling bear dad."
"H-Heyyy there! Lovely day, huh? Great weather for… treasure organization!"
The Teddiursa didn't blink. One of them even looked ready to cry out for backup. David panicked.
"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! Don't call your mom! I mean—Ursaring! Don't call Ursaring! I'm not stealing, I'm… I'm trading! It's called commerce! Civilization! Sharing economy!"
Before the nearest Teddiursa could raise the alarm, David yanked a pouch from inside his jacket and hastily ripped it open.
"Here! See? Delicious, hand-crafted, limited-edition energy cubes! Organic! Artisanally compressed! And probably expired by now!"
He shoved one into the nearest Teddiursa's mouth like a desperate salesman at a mall kiosk.
The bear cub blinked, chewed… and then its eyes sparkled. The sweet aroma from the cube wafted through the cave like a siren song. The rest of the group immediately forgot all about justice and personal property and began drooling.
David quickly poured out the rest of his stash—nearly six weeks' worth of Ralts and Pikachu's food. The cubes glittered in the cave light, radiating a suspiciously enticing scent that David definitely remembered came from that time he added a questionable laxative by mistake.
The Teddiursa didn't care. They tore open the packaging like hungry kids at a candy store and dug in.
"See?" David whispered, slowly backing toward the treasure pile. "Not stealing. Totally legal. Just advanced bartering with bonus fiber."
With the threat averted—at least temporarily—David exhaled in relief and turned back to the treasure hoard. He wiped sweat from his forehead and dove back into selection mode, scanning for anything rare, valuable, or shiny enough to flip for a fat profit.
Sure, the cave was packed with loot—berries, stones, herbs, jars of Beedrill honey—but he was looking for that one thing. The hidden jackpot. The kind of thing that shows up in auction catalogs and makes rich old collectors cry.
Then he saw it.
Right in the center of the pile. Unassuming. Fist-sized. Covered in sand and dirt and the general vibe of "don't touch me unless you're ready to be rich."
David knelt in front of it slowly, like Indiana Jones discovering a cursed idol. He brushed away the dust. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't glowing. But the moment his fingers touched the surface, the system in his head chimed:
[Smooth Rock (Extreme)]
Effect: Greatly enhances Ground-type power and extends Sandstorm duration.
Swallowing grants large EXP and may increase IVs and qualifications (Ground/Rock-types only).
David's pupils dilated. His mouth fell open.
"No. Freakin'. Way."
His hands trembled. He stared at the rock like it was a winning lottery ticket dipped in chocolate.
"A top-grade Smooth Rock… The Extreme kind…"
These weren't just rare—they were legendary. Trainers would sell their kidneys for one. Heck, he might've sold his if he hadn't just found it. This tiny hunk of sandy, hole-riddled rock could go for hundreds of millions of Alliance coins—if not more. It was the kind of item rich snobs in suits fought over with monocles and champagne.
David's brain short-circuited with possibilities. Fancy houses. Five-star buffets. A closet just for hoodies. Never again would he have to borrow Luna's notes or pretend he wasn't broke at Tom's snack bar.
He clutched the stone close to his chest, his voice cracking with emotion.
"This… This is it. My financial freedom!"
Behind him, Ralts and Pikachu gave him a side-eye so strong it could burn steel.
David didn't care. He was already picturing himself swimming in piles of money like a greedy Gyarados.
He had found the jackpot.
And unless something horribly predictable happened... he was about to become very, very rich.