Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 82 - Casualties

Angelo leaned his back against the wall, legs crossed. He panted heavily, like he had been running for several miles, and he wasn't sure if that was actually the case or not. He had been going from room to room for at least the first quarter of the day, ever since Elite Heart Rhys' announcements. Tireless—but that was a lie, because he'd never felt so tired since his training with his father.

He saw someone approaching him, and he held up his paw. "P-please, I need a break. I can barely breathe; I can't use Heal Pulse for a while, please..."

The Pokémon—Angelo wasn't even sure who or what it was—left without a word. He felt a pang of guilt for shooing them away so quickly, but what he said had to be the truth. He felt like he was withering away. He'd lost count of how much he had healed the hospitals' patients.

A nap sounded wonderful. And maybe lunch, and second lunch. Anything to get his energy back. They still had food, right?

A blurry figure entered Angelo's vision again, this one accompanied by the characteristic warmth of a Fire. "Phol?" the Smeargle said, squinting up.

"How are you feeling? Don't forget to conserve your energy."

"I—I know, of course I know that," he said, but then something cold was placed in his paws. He squeaked, but then Phol's strong hands guided Angelo's to his face. Smelled like a cold smoothie. A straw poked at his snout. "Ow."

The cool temperature was all he noticed at first, and it was precisely what he needed. Then came the taste—sweet, and was that a hint of coconut? He usually didn't care too much for that, but right now, he liked anything that would cool his chest. There was an odd tang, too. He recognized the taste, bringing back bitter memories, but he shoved those away, too. He needed the energy, even if it was from an Elixir.

"Mmph, I thought these weren't good anymore?" Angelo said, looking up. "All blessed items stopped, didn't it?"

Phol shrugged. "Only some Elixirs failed. Some of them are just made with certain mixtures of ingredients, and that seemed to be enough. Pechas, Rawsts, a lot of them are working just fine, too. They aren't blessed; they're just natural."

"Then Orans were blessed," Angelo mused aloud.

"Sitrus as well, even if they're harder to come by."

Angelo took another deep sip, the tang overtaken by the creamy taste of yoghurt and berry mash. He had to pause, losing sense of everyone else around him, to savor that refreshing gulp.

"You healed nearly half of all the patients here, you know," Phol said.

"I—I did? I think I burned myself out, to be honest..."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

The words themselves should have been disapproving, but Angelo heard something else in Phol's tone. Pride? Praise? Angelo curled his paws, humming. "You mean I did well?"

"You did more than everyone else here. Good job." Phol looked ahead. "Anyway, I need to make sure everything's in order. Let us know when your strength is back, but I think the major influx of patients is taken care of."

Angelo looked up, spotting a furrowed expression on Phol. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"...Just rest for now. I've got some things to tend to, but they aren't anything you need to worry about."

"Er, right."

The Incineroar left him alone again, and the tension in his chest left with him. Angelo sighed, deflating against the hard wall, and looked at his half-finished smoothie. Why did Phol get that for him, anyway? It would've been nice if he had something with banana in it. Those were always amazing. Apples, too. Apples and bananas... maybe some yoghurt with it? And ice. Was Ludicolo Café still open? Maybe he could escape for a nap there.