The overlord-class Pokémon was a category recently established by the Pokémon League.
Compared to ordinary Pokémon of the same species, overlord-class Pokémon were stronger, larger, and exceptionally dominant wild Pokémon. Their status was relatively higher, but not every overlord received special treatment from the League.
At the very least, based on what Vincent Stone knew, within the entire Hoenn region, only this Gengar had received such unique recognition from the League.
"I'm planning to film a horror movie, so I wanted to shoot some scenes here."
Vincent wasn't meeting this Gengar for the first time, but even so, facing its massive form, he could still feel an indistinct pressure.
Little Mimi trembled in Vincent's arms, its excited gaze locked onto the Gengar before them. Vincent had to hold Little Mimi back to prevent it from launching an attack.
Though every attempt ended in failure—Gengar was simply too strong, immobilizing Little Mimi instantly—the Mimikyu still persisted, undeterred by repeated defeats.
Beside them, the elderly butler, Mr. James, calmly wiped his glasses. He wasn't worried about Vincent's safety.
"A horror movie? That's quite interesting." Gengar let out an eerie laugh.
As its laughter echoed, the shadows around them began to tremble, as if stirred by an unseen wind, though there was no breeze in Petalburg Woods.
Vincent wasn't surprised that Gengar knew about horror movies.
Generally, Pokémon didn't communicate much with humans. Those capable of conversation were usually Psychic-types, which could use telepathy to interact. But this Gengar was fluent in the League's official language and possessed remarkably high intelligence.
This was a very special overlord.
"Would you like to participate in the movie, Mr. Gengar?" Vincent tentatively asked.
But deep down, he knew this Gengar would likely refuse.
"I'm not interested. If a movie gets made, people will definitely come looking for me here. Too much trouble." Gengar decisively shook its head, its eyes glowing conspicuously in the dim forest.
Though it was an overlord with an intimidating size and presence, there were always some overly confident trainers who believed themselves to be destined protagonists, eager to conquer it to prove their superiority.
Such trainers had all been thoroughly taught a lesson by Gengar.
"Enough of that useless talk. Let's save it for next time." Gengar stared at Vincent excitedly, extending a hand from its body, a single finger as thick as Vincent's head.
Vincent knew exactly what Gengar wanted to do. He took a deep breath, his expression turning serious.
"Three, two, one!" Mr. James loudly counted down.
"Scissors!" Gengar thrust out its hand, two fingers extended.
"Rock!" Vincent shouted, forming a fist.
Gengar instantly slumped to the ground in defeat.
Vincent calmly pulled out a small notebook and made a tally mark.
"What's the score now?" Gengar's ear-like protrusions drooped, its entire demeanor losing all traces of an overlord's majesty, replaced instead by something akin to dejection.
"Hmm, 132 to 89." Vincent checked the numbers in his notebook.
Gengar's mouth practically sagged to its knees.
132? That meant it, an overlord-class Pokémon, had lost to this kid Vincent a full 43 times? What kind of ridiculous game was this? Why was it so hard?
Gengar couldn't comprehend it.
"You brat, I'll win next time for sure." Gengar grumbled before sinking into the shadows and vanishing.
Vincent wasn't surprised. Every time he visited Petalburg Woods, Gengar would drag him into a game of rock-paper-scissors. And every time, Gengar would react the same way, running off after a loss, but gloating endlessly if it won. It left Vincent both amused and exasperated.
For an overlord-class Pokémon, Gengar didn't carry much of an overlord's aura.
"Let's go, Young Master Vincent." James, unfazed as always, led Vincent toward the mansion.
Vincent studied the building before him. Weathered by time, the mansion appeared even more decrepit. Likely due to neglect, its walls were overgrown with ivy and other climbing plants, casting an eerie gloom even under the afternoon sun.
Vincent could even make out ghostly figures flitting past the second-floor windows, further enhancing the mansion's unsettling atmosphere.
"This place has potential." Vincent stroked his chin. He had reviewed the mansion's blueprints—the first floor was largely empty, devoid of furniture, making it perfect for setting up as a film set. He could fill it with various human and Pokémon puppets.
Based on Vincent's adaptation, Mary Shaw didn't just kill people; she also murdered their Pokémon, turning them all into puppets. This detail would even extend to the protagonist's father, with subtle puppet-like traits to hint at his true nature.
"Young Master Vincent, there are still quite a few Ghost-type Pokémon inside. How do you plan to handle them?" James asked with a smile, six Poké Balls hanging at his waist.
James was also a trainer—and a formidable one at that. That was why he dared to accompany Vincent on these excursions alone.
"James, I'd like to go in and take a look first." Vincent didn't intend to rely on the butler's strength immediately. Steven was right, it was time for him to consider improving his own abilities. He couldn't always depend on the old butler for protection.
James didn't object. Instead, he stepped slightly in front of Vincent, positioning himself to shield the young man at the first sign of danger.
As the door creaked open, dust swirled in the sunlight before dissipating.
Vincent squinted until the air cleared.
What remained was a mansion swallowed by time. Though long abandoned, devoid of water and electricity, it carried an eerie semblance of life.
Vincent even spotted what appeared to be crudely constructed furniture—tables and chairs, perhaps—though they were so poorly made he couldn't be certain.
And from the second floor, the stairwell, and the depths of the first floor, countless pairs of tiny eyes gleamed in the darkness, silently watching Vincent.
(End of Chapter)