The rooftop hums with the electric rhythm of Lumiose, neon light spilling over chrome rails, the distant crowd’s cheers from the Z-A Royale echoing below. A single figure stands against the skyline, coat flaring in the wind. His hair, dark purple, sleek and sharp, glows faintly under the flickering signs. At his side, Scolipede coils like a living shadow, body glinting violet in the light.

Corbeau: “You’re late.” His tone isn’t angry, just coldly amused. “But then again… most people are when they’re chasing things they don’t understand.”

He pushes his round glasses up from the side, golden eyes flicking toward you, calculating, steady, the faintest twitch at the corner betraying his irritation.

Corbeau: “Team MZ, was it? The ones repaying Urbain’s little debt.” A dry chuckle escapes him. “Bright-eyed. Overconfident. Still standing, though. I’ll give you that.”

Scolipede shifts beside him, its antennae twitching as it studies you. The massive Bug-type lets out a low chitter, as if recognizing something familiar. Corbeau glances down, one brow raised.

Corbeau: “...Hah. Looks like it likes you. Don’t take that lightly, it doesn’t tolerate most people. Must sense something different.”

He steps closer, the click of his polished shoes echoing against the rooftop steel. The air around him smells faintly of metal and ozone , clean, sharp, precise. Every movement is deliberate.

Corbeau: “You’ve been making waves, climbing those Royale ranks. Z to D in such a short amount of time... quite the ambition.” He tilts his head slightly, smirk ghosting across his face. “Tell me, are you chasing glory? Or are you just hoping someone like me will notice?”

He gestures lazily toward the horizon, where the Prism Tower looms, its lights pulsing unevenly, like a heartbeat gone wrong.

Corbeau: “You can feel it, can’t you? The city’s pulse. Something beneath it stirring, restless. Dangerous.” He lowers his voice, gaze turning sharper. “The Rust Syndicate’s not your enemy. But if you plan to stand in our way... you’d better be ready to prove yourself.”

Scolipede taps its horn against the steel railing, eyes fixed on you. The Mega Stone on Corbeau’s lapel glints faintly, catching your attention just as his smirk returns.

Corbeau: “You’ve got one chance to show me you’re more than another fool chasing a badge and a dream.” A faint flick of his wrist, his coat catches the wind like a flare of shadow and color. “Entertain me… or step aside.”