“And to think,” Aldith continued, her voice taking on a dreamy, conversational tone as she watched the champion’s legs from the knees down still flailing outside, “if that was the region’s champion, just imagine how many weak, delicious trainers we can find for her to swallow up. I hope they can put on a show as good as this one.”

A new kind of cold dread, deeper than the fear for her own life, seeped into Cynthia’s heart. Others. This wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of a campaign of terror.

Aldith sighed, a sound of pure contentment. “We’ve already started, you know. That pretty little Pokémon Ranger from Fiore? Solana? She put up a cute fight. Lasted almost as long as you have.” She chuckled. “But my Seviper’s belly knows no favorites.”

Solana was missing. The news reports, the quiet concern… it had been this. Cynthia’s struggling took on a new, hopeless fervor. It was futile. Her kicks were weakening, the muscles in her legs screaming from the sustained, frantic exertion.

Then came the words that broke the last of her spirit.

“I’m thinking of paying a visit to Kalos next,” Aldith mused, her voice dropping to a intimate, hateful whisper aimed at the slowly disappearing champion. “That actress friend of yours… Diantha, is it? She has such a graceful neck. I wonder how it will look stretching my Seviper’s scales.”

No. Not Diantha. The mental image—her elegant friend, her laughter, her kindness, all ending in this same hot, digestive darkness—unleashed a torrent of despair so profound it momentarily eclipsed the physical horror. A broken, guttural wail was forced from Cynthia’s chest, vibrating through the flesh imprisoning her. It was the sound of utter defeat, not just of her body, but of her world.

Aldith heard it. She threw her head back and laughed, a full-throated, joyous sound. “She understands!” she crowed. “She sees the future! And it’s digested!”