Pokemon: Primatus

Everything exploded.

Claws, screams, the crunch of bark—then fur flying and fists smashing through trees like they were nothing.

The Slaking troop surged around me like a white-furred tidal wave, all teeth and rage. I didn't move. Couldn't. My hatchet hung limp at my side, my breath ragged in my throat. My legs were shaking, not from fear, but from something worse—adrenaline crashing down into the hollow afterburn of what I'd done.

'I cant believeI just surive that, just one glancing blow of that Snorlax and I am done.'

'This body may be younger and strong but it lacks control.'

And now I could only watch.

The Snorlax let out a roar that felt like it tore the air apart. A deep, earth-cracking bellow that stunned half the Vigoroth in their tracks. Even the trees seemed to shudder. But the Slaking—he didn't flinch. He just slammed his fists into his chest, answering the cry with one of his own.

Two monsters, staring each other down.

Then, without warning, the Snorlax dropped. Not from damage. From choice.

It hit the ground like a collapsed building and… slept. I felt it more than saw it—this strange pulse of energy around him.

Rest.

I blinked. No way… was he healing?

He was. Cuts closed. Bruises faded. But his stomach growled even louder than before. I saw one of the Vigoroth snarl and sprint forward—its claws glowing, aiming straight for the throat. A clean kill, if it landed.

But it didn't.

Snorlax's eyes snapped open—and his jaws moved like a bear trap.

Crunch.

The sound was wet. The Vigoroth twitched once, then stopped. Snorlax didn't even flinch. He just chewed.

Grinning. Bloody. Unbothered.

Mocking us.

Around me, the troop hissed and howled, but the Slaking growled—a deep, commanding grunt that made them freeze.

He stepped forward alone.

No more distractions.

This was between them now.

I couldn't stop staring. Slaking was massive—like a gorilla carved from stone. Snorlax was rounder, heavier, but somehow just as dangerous. Power rolled off both of them in waves. Titans. Monsters.

Slaking lunged first.

I flinched at the force of it. His fist hit Snorlax square in the side—and the forest trembled. Snorlax absorbed the hit, then slammed back with all his weight, sending dirt and debris flying. The ground split beneath them.

And they kept going.

Hit after hit. Roar after roar.

Strength against endurance. Ferocity against hunger.

I stood frozen, heart pounding out of rhythm. This wasn't like before. This wasn't fear or rage anymore. I didn't even know what to feel.

Awe?

Remorse?

All I knew was that I'd never seen anything like this.

The Slaking charged in again, faster than anything that massive had any right to be. His arm blurred, claws slashing wide in a black arc—Night Slash. The air split with the force of it, but Snorlax ducked low, far too quick for his size. The blade of dark energy scraped his shoulder, ripping fur and drawing a thick line of blood, but he didn't stop.

He retaliated with a breath—deep, guttural—then exhaled flames.

Flames.

The heat surged across the clearing like a living thing. I stumbled back, eyes wide as Snorlax unleashed a full Fire Blast, the kind I'd only ever seen in games. It scorched the forest floor, leaving a crescent of flame in its wake. Trees crackled, smoke rising into the canopy.

Slaking didn't dodge.

He ran through it.

Through fire.

His fur blackened, parts of his skin blistering from the heat, but he didn't scream—he roared, fists raised high.

And then he brought them down, one after the other, hammering into Snorlax's chest with a two-handed strike. The impact echoed like thunder—Brick Break—and Snorlax actually staggered, the ground beneath him webbing with cracks.

But he wasn't down.

Snorlax opened his mouth again—this time a pulse of electricity burst out, crackling in a blinding sphere.

Thunderbolt.

The bolt hit Slaking square in the chest. The beast convulsed—every muscle tightening—but he didn't fall. Smoke rose from his back, his knuckles dragging the earth as he charged again.

No hesitation.

No retreat.

He grabbed Snorlax by the arm.

Lifted him.

Lifted him.

With a growl that turned into a full-throated roar, Slaking hoisted the gluttonous titan overhead, veins bulging, feet digging trenches into the soil—and slammed him into the earth so hard the forest trembled. A crater bloomed beneath them. Trees fell. Birds scattered in panic.

Seismic Toss.

Snorlax coughed blood, but his grin didn't fade. That damned grin.

He grabbed a boulder nearby—with one hand—and chucked it like a cannonball. It smashed into Slaking's face, staggering him long enough for Snorlax to roll to his feet. No wasted motion. Just brutal, unstoppable motion.

Then came the cold.

The sudden chill in the air warned me before I even saw the attack.

Snorlax's breath misted.

A swirling vortex formed in his palm—a compact spiral of frost and wind—Blizzard.

The ice storm burst forward, freezing everything in its path.

I dove behind a fallen tree, arms over my head, the cold biting through every layer I had. When I peeked back up, the entire battlefield was a warzone of ice and fire. The Slaking stood in the middle, half-frozen but unmoved, steam rising off his body, fury boiling in his eyes.

He cracked his neck.

Then, slowly, like the monster he was, walked straight through the blizzard—one hand raised, claws ready to tear, the other coiled for another earth-shattering strike.

*

I stepped back from the madness, boots sinking into the shredded underbrush, breath catching like a faulty engine. My arms were trembling again—but not from fear.

From sheer disbelief.

That fight? That thing?

I'd thrown myself into a kaiju-level brawl with nothing but a hatchet and wrath, this fury of mine is dangerous thankfully its back to simmering anger but never gone.

The Vigoroth pair before—when the Snorlax attacked it back then—I thought I'd seen its true power. I thought I understood the danger.

But I was wrong.

Back then, it was playing. It never registered to him that Vigoroth was a threath.

Now as I can think again I realize the Snorlax was even half asleep when I attack it, it only see me as another food to eat.

Now? Against the Slaking?

It was alive. Awake. Unchained.

Another roar cracked through the trees like thunder, and I flinched despite myself. The air shimmered with heat as flames burst between the two titans—Flamethrower. The Snorlax knew what it was doing. Smart. Tactical. It rolled with hits, punished openings. The Slaking slammed back with moves I could barely track. Each one like a mini-earthquake.

I clenched my jaw and tore my eyes away. I needed to breathe. Needed to think.

But instead, my mind dragged me elsewhere.

A flicker of parchment. That second letter. Its words burning behind my eyes like poison.

'What more could a monkey want?

Yes. That's what you are, isn't it? A posturing little primate with delusions of depth. Curious, loud, and endlessly amusing when cornered. It suits you. That's why your company will match.'

It had been mockery. A joke.

But was it?

Because now, surrounded by the chaos, I could see it—the troop wasn't just a rabble of instinct and screeches. They were… something more. Organized. Protective. They'd risked themselves for each other. The wounded Vigoroth who dragged another to safety. The ones who shielded the young. Their eyes weren't empty. They were aware.

Family.

I glanced toward the scattered members still lingering near the edge of the battlefield. The smaller ones—Slakoths, a few Vigoroths—gathered behind the trees, hooting softly, watching their alpha fight. One of them, a young Vigoroth, looked right at me.

Not with hate.

With curiosity.

Its different from the other pokemon look at me. Different from that Zigzagoon.

The air was still trembling from the echoes of battle, but none of them lunged at me. None attacked.

I looked away, suddenly tense. The injured Vigoroth—the mother? She was limping through the underbrush, sniffing, claws scraping the dirt as if desperate to find something. Frantic.

Then it clicked.

The Pokéball.

I'd thrown it during the chaos. Toward her Slakoth.

A curse slipped out of my mouth as I turned and started searching the torn forest floor. Every heartbeat slammed through my chest. The terrain was a mess—ripped roots, split trunks, torn grass soaked with blood and soot. In the distance, the roars still boomed. Elemental flashes lit the canopy like lightning.

Even wild Pokémon were fleeing now—nocturnals, predators, all gone. The food chain was breaking apart around me.

And I was crawling through the wreckage, looking for one tiny sphere of hope.

*

Leaves tore at my arms, breath ragged, eyes flicking over the underbrush. Somewhere in this churned-up battlefield was that damn Pokéball—the one I'd thrown to save the Slakoth. The injured Vigoroth beside me was limping in circles, frantically sniffing, digging, yelping. Its eyes were wild—not with fear, but desperation.

Then the earth cracked.

BOOM.

A hulking shape was hurled through the canopy like a missile. Trees snapped. Vines exploded in clouds of green. I barely ducked in time as a Slaking crashed down not ten meters from us, slamming into a ridge with a force that shook my bones.

Dust and leaves rained from the sky.

For a moment, it didn't move.

Then it shoved itself up, cracking its neck, muscles rippling, one massive arm held low, coiled tight—energy spiraling around its fist like a miniature storm. Its breath came in deep, snarling huffs. It was charging something. Giga Impact—I could feel the name before I even realized it.

Its free arm swung like a battering ram, smashing aside debris and trees as it stormed forward. Every hit, every movement, was clearing a path for that charged strike.

Across the clearing, a mountain of flesh and hunger waited—Snorlax. Its massive form stood firm despite the bruises, blood, and burns. One eye swollen shut. Fat rippling with every breath. But its jaw was glowing, flickering with orange light, brighter by the second.

It was charging Hyper Beam.

My heart felt like it was trying to claw out of my chest. I couldn't look away.

Two monsters. One moment.

Slaking roared first—savage, feral—and lunged forward on all fours. Its charged arm gleamed white-hot, but it didn't unleash yet. It held it back. It fought forward with its other limbs, hammering into Snorlax with wild blows, each one powerful enough to kill most things outright. Claws raked across that glutton's gut. A punch cracked ribs like wood.

But Snorlax didn't fall.

It grunted, bracing with its thick legs, absorbing the hits with sheer mass. Its arms came up, swatting some blows aside, others landing like cannonballs into its side. But the glow in its mouth never faltered.

It was tanking it.

Saving it.

Charging it.

The air vibrated between them, heat and energy thick like syrup. The Slaking let out a final bark, lifted its glowing arm—

And unleashed.

At the same instant, Snorlax opened its mouth and fired.

Giga Impact met Hyper Beam in a flash of white and gold.

The jungle screamed.

I hit the ground as a shockwave tore the air apart. The trees bent backward like grass in a storm. Heat slapped my skin. My ears rang, eyes watering from the force. Through blurred vision, I saw it:

Slaking, arm buried into Snorlax's chest, pushing forward with every fiber of its monstrous body.

Snorlax, beam blasting at point-blank range, trying to burn the Slaking off of it.

Neither yielded.

But something had to give.

Slaking roared and gave one final shove. Snorlax's beam sputtered. It gasped—deep, rattling—and fell. The whole forest shook as it hit the ground, flat on its back.

Silent.

Still.

Smoke curled from its mouth. Its chest heaved once. Still smiling.

Then stopped.

The Slaking stumbled back, knees shaking. Blood dripped from its side. It looked ready to fall too.

But it didn't.

It stood.

And slowly, with staggering pride, it beat its chest once.

Then again.

A chorus rose from the trees—its troop, answering.

Vigoroth and Slakoth howled to the stars, pounding their chests, roaring as one.

A wild, primal symphony of survival.

And I… I just stared, heart pounding, skin numb.