55: Chapter 55: Defeat Reported Back to the Plateau, Black Flag Alarm Sounds

Lorelei woke up by the reef.

The sea breeze carried volcanic ash, scraping across her face like fine sand grinding against skin. Lapras lay prone beside her, its ice armor shattered in a large patch, breathing heavily, its tail fin dragging a long trail of blood.

Bruno sat a dozen steps away, his right arm bound by a belt, his chest scorched black, his fist still clutching a shard that had broken off from Tyranitar's outer armor. The shard had gone cold, but its edges were still sharp enough to prick.

Agatha stood before the cliff. Old Gengar huddled in her shadow, the split at the corner of its mouth having just stopped bleeding. The old woman gripped her cane, her back as thin as an iron nail, yet she stood firm; anyone could see she was forcing herself to hold on.

The three members of The Elite Four were all still alive.

But there was no sign of a victor on the beach.

In the distance, a Black Flag rose above the volcano tower on Cinnabar Island. The flag unfurled in the ash-laden wind, obscuring the last glimmer of the League's white emblem.

Lorelei stared at the flag for a long time, then whispered: "We lost."

Bruno's Adam's apple bobbed, but he offered no defense for himself.

Agatha let out a soft laugh, the amusement as cold as the back of a blade.

"Charles Goodshow will write a very pretty account of this defeat."

Bruno looked up.

Agatha said, enunciating every word: "Strategic withdrawal, preserving core strength, Cinnabar situation pending investigation, Lynn used unknown means, requires handling by higher authorities."

Lorelei lowered her eyes, her fingertips pressing against Lapras's cracked ice armor.

Pretty words might fool the newspapers and the public, but they couldn't fool those who had personally endured that flash of red light.

She remembered it clearly.

Ice walls piled up layer by layer, Lapras's chill pressing the sea surface into white mist, Agatha's Old Gengar biting into Tyranitar's shadow, Bruno's Machamp holding the front line. At that moment, they had pushed their Elite Four-level pincer attack to the limit.

Then the volcano opened its maw.

The red light pierced the ice walls, shattered the phantom shadows, sent Machamp flying, and swept across the harbor. The seawater boiled, the ship hulls turned red, and League soldiers screamed in the white steam. That monster, its chest split and its steps unsteady, had used a single breath to blast the three members of The Elite Four off Cinnabar Island and into the sea.

It was injured, too.

Yet the injured monster stood on the island.

They could only lie by the sea.

Bruno crushed the piece of outer armor in his hand, his palm pricked and bleeding. "Next time, I will shatter its chest."

Lorelei looked at him.

"Next time, we have to survive until before it opens its mouth."

The words were heavy.

Bruno fell silent.

Agatha turned around, tapping her cane against the reef.

"This defeat at Cinnabar is more troublesome than just losing an island."

Lorelei nodded.

"Lynn will use it as an example."

She reached out and pulled a scorched map from her soaked tactical bag. Cinnabar Port, the volcanic workshop, the experimental zone, and the circle of wrecked ships in the outer sea were all connected by black lines.

"He has strung together the fighting, the broadcasting, the takeover, the food distribution, and the interrogations. We were still fighting for positions, while he was already claiming the island."

Bruno looked at the map, his fist slowly tightening.

Agatha's expression darkened further.

"The residents of Cinnabar will fear him today. In three days, they will line up at his granaries. In a month, they will be repairing his turrets for him. By the time Indigo Plateau sends the next batch of people, Cinnabar Island may already be self-sustaining."

This was more terrifying than Tyranitar.

A single monster could be surrounded and killed.

An island that could produce food, forge weapons, and recruit people would drag out the war.

Lorelei stood up, the pain from her wounds causing her vision to black out for a moment. Lapras let out a low groan, and she pressed her hand against its forehead.

"I am going to write a true battle report for Lance."

Bruno frowned.

"Charles Goodshow will delete it."

"Before he deletes it, someone will always be able to see it."

Agatha stared at her.

"You want to let Lance bypass the higher-ups?"

Lorelei looked up at the Black Flag.

"I want him to know that if the next battle is still handled as a mere rebellion, Indigo Plateau will pay a much greater price."

Waves crashed against the reef, washing away several pools of blood.

Bruno put the piece of outer armor into a cloth bag.

"Take it to Lance."

Lorelei took it.

Agatha also pulled a jagged, black, glass-like fragment from her sleeve. It was a burn mark that had congealed in the shadow after Gengar was grazed by Tyranitar's breath.

"Take this too."

The three items were laid out together: shattered ice, a scorched fist, and a fragment of shadow.

This was clearer than any battle report.

In the distance, Cinnabar Island was as busy as a furnace that had just been struck awake by a hammer. In the port, people were dragging corpses, moving grain, repairing pipelines, and chiseling the Old League emblem off the walls.

Lynn had abandoned the pursuit.

Lorelei understood the reason in her heart.

He wanted them to return wounded.

The dead would only leave behind eulogies.

Living members of The Elite Four could bring back fear.

Agatha was the first to walk toward the pickup boat. Bruno supported the injured Machamp, and Lorelei led Lapras, taking one last look back.

The Black Flag was still on the volcano tower.

The flag looked crude, its edges burnt and curled, yet it flew steadily.

Lorelei folded the true battle report and tucked it away close to her body.

"Hurry," she said to the crew. "Take us to Indigo Plateau."

The boat left the shore, leaving a white wake on the sea surface.

Cinnabar Island grew smaller and smaller in the gray mist.

What the three members of The Elite Four were taking away had nothing to do with dignity; only an alarm remained.

This alarm had to reach Lance before the League's pretty words did.

Because when the war drums sounded next time, those facing Lynn would have to admit one thing.

Cinnabar Island had already been bitten off by him.

And he would continue to bite.

When the pickup boat approached the relay ship in the outer sea, the League soldiers on board instinctively straightened their backs.

They had originally prepared to welcome the triumphant members of The Elite Four, with hot tea and clean cloaks laid out on the deck. But when the three boarded the ship, the smiles on the soldiers' faces froze.

Lapras was hoisted onto the deck, shedding ice armor fragments all the way. Machamp leaned against the ship's railing, gasping for breath, its arm raising halfway before falling back down. Old Gengar slipped into the shadow beneath a light, even suppressing its usual eerie laughter.

A staff officer trotted over and handed over a pre-written draft.

"Lady Lorelei, the Plateau requires a brief report to be sent first. The wording has been drafted: The enemy forces at Cinnabar have suffered heavy losses, our side has completed the phase objectives, and we are preparing to expand the blockade."

Lorelei took the paper, read only two lines, and tore it to shreds on the spot. The torn paper fell onto the wet deck. The staff officer's face turned pale.

Lorelei pointed to the Black Flag in the gray mist in the distance.

"Did you see that flag with your own eyes?"

The staff officer opened his mouth.

"I saw it."

"Then write about it."

"Write that Tyranitar repelled the three members of The Elite Four head-on."

"Write that Cinnabar Port has fallen."

"Write that the local residents have been registered household by household by Lynn."

"Write that the old supply depots have been opened and grain is being distributed to the square."

"Write that we have retreated to the sea and cannot take the island for the time being."

With every sentence, the faces of the soldiers on the deck turned a shade paler. Bruno stood to the side and suddenly slammed his fist against the ship's railing. The iron plating buckled.

"Also write down that I will go again."

Agatha added coldly,

"Write that next time, the Champion needs to be stationed there; The Elite Four level is no longer enough to suppress Cinnabar."

The staff officer's hand holding the pen began to shake. If a battle report like this was sent up, whoever signed it would be doomed.

Lorelei saw his hesitation and placed the piece of Tyranitar's outer armor into his hand.

"If you're afraid of losing your position, show this to Lance."

The shard cut the staff officer's palm, and blood immediately seeped out. He finally bowed his head.

"I will write it."

The relay ship raised its signal lights, and three consecutive red beams shot toward the north.

That message could hardly be called a victory; it was nothing but a distress signal.

The defeat report from Cinnabar was revised for the first time on this silent deck. The pretty words were torn away, the wounds were laid bare, and the Black Flag was written into the telegram.

Lorelei sat in the cabin bandaging her wounds, her fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion. She looked at the gray sea outside the window, knowing in her heart that the higher-ups would still delete, cover up, and whitewash it.

But as long as Lance saw the first version, as long as that shard fell into his hands, the true weight of Cinnabar Island could not be hidden. This was precisely the value in Lynn letting them leave.

What the three members of The Elite Four brought back was not just a sense of defeat, but also evidence, wounds, the Black Flag they had seen with their own eyes, and a fact that made Indigo Plateau unable to continue pretending to sleep.

When the captain delivered the telegram to the radio room, the young radio operator read the content, and his expression changed as well.

"Send it as is?"

Lorelei heard this through the cabin door and pushed it open directly.

"Send it as is."

The radio operator gritted his teeth and pressed the key. The telegraph code tapped out in strings; Cinnabar fallen, The Elite Four injured, Black Flag raised, residents registered, granaries taken over—these words pierced through the sea mist like nails being driven toward Indigo Plateau.

After sending the last group, the radio operator looked up at her.

"The Plateau will hold us accountable."

Lorelei tucked her wet hair behind her ear.

"We can talk about accountability after we survive."

When she walked out of the radio room, Bruno was already leaning against the door outside. This man who spoke the least whispered:

"Thank you."

Lorelei shook her head.

"Thanking me is useless. In the next battle, we will all have to pay with our lives."

As the relay ship sailed north, the soldiers on the deck never mentioned the word "triumph" again. They began to replenish ammunition, check the wounded, and re-secure the lifeboats. The defeat had scraped the illusions off their faces, leaving behind only a more tangible tension. Cinnabar Island had become the jaws of the Black Flag, and everyone knew that the next time they approached the shore, it would be even harder than this time.