I woke up in the middle of the night, letting out a long yawn. No matter how tired I was, I still didn't need much sleep, and I always woke up full of energy.

  I'm pretty sure I was instinctively absorbing the life energy from my surroundings while I sleep, but since there was no one around me while that was happening, I didn't care. I just had to make sure I never slept near the Corphish gang, that could very easily result in tragedy…

  Not wanting to follow that thread, I pced the toy shovel on my head and crawled to the side of my skeleton, beginning to think about what I should do with the rest of the night.

  Going back to training was tempting, it always was. More training guaranteed that I could achieve my dreams faster, and that was undeniable. That things like muscle aches or overexertion weren’t a thing for me was helpful, since my body was pure sand, but, unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for my mental resilience.

  Spending day and night training without a break would take its toll on me at that rate. There was no way that this would be healthy in a long term. On the other hand… it's not like there's anything better to do.

  During the day I could rex, watching the little Corphish py and supervising the training of ‘The 24 Cws’ (provisional name). Nonetheless, at night there was nothing to do. There was no internet, no games, no books, there was nothing… except training.

  So that's what I did.

  The possible but unknown consequences didn’t matter. Getting gains, jokes aside, was too useful for me. Doing that, I wasn’t only increasing my strength and getting closer to my goals, but it was the only way I knew of being able to even achieve them in the first pce.

  Perfecting my control of the Spooky-Sandy-Skeleton-Mecha was crucial in my pns to domi—… I mean, explore the world, as well as to perhaps unlock a possible alternative evolution that didn't involve becoming a full-time non-remunerated sand-castle.

  Also, let’s not fool ourselves, it was so much fun to py with the magical energy of that world; a fantastic way to pass the time.

  Without further ado, I began my solitary training under the moonlight. The sand affected by my ability had long since dried up, so I had to go near the water to get some more of it, greeting a couple of Tentacool who, very kindly, sprayed me with a Water Gun as soon as they saw me.

  Damn pests…

  It was a real pain, but it was the only way I could get that special sand, so it should work for now. The normal water wasn't enough, in fact, it was harmful, as it melted me and made it impossible for me to maintain my normal Pokemon form. I had the misfortune of discovering this one rainy day, before meeting Mr. Krabs. It wasn’t a pleasant experience…

  Thinking about that, I was a little curious if I could attack myself to activate my ability, or if, on the contrary, the almighty cosmic lma Arceus had taken care of patching that exploit. Even if I couldn't take advantage of the bug, learning a Water-type move was still very useful, so I'd keep that in mind.

  I was pretty sure Sandygast could learn Chilling Water through TM, but I didn’t even know where start to learn a move so far from my type. Maybe Mr. Krabs or the old Wingull could help me with that.

  Returning to my skeleton's side, I saved those thoughts for when the sun came up and focused on what I wanted to do. The sand that made me up flowed over the polished bones, leaving my shovel aside and forming the set of false muscles and tendons that I’d been perfecting through trial and error. The sand hardened by my ability, with a touch of Normal-type energy, covered the whole mess of things only fit for biology books, forming a yer of soft, firm, but somewhat rigid chocote-colored ‘skin’.

  I was still far from resembling a human being, the proportions were strange and fell fully into the uncanny valley, but I tried.

  The day before I’d managed to control my torso, head and both arms at the same time, so there was only one thing left to do before I could start moving freely. Stretching my control over the total amount of sand I could use as my own body as much as I could, I managed to wrap it around my leg bones with some difficulty, giving me a feeling of fullness.

  It had been a long time since I felt so human.

  Sitting there, enjoying the night views of a clean beach, completely free of pollution, I tried to stand up to take a step forward, also symbolizing the step I had taken to fulfill my dreams, but all sentimentality crumbled a bit when I fell face first into the sand.

  I guess not everything could go right in the first try…

  Focusing on my ‘new’ legs, I reinforced the density of the sand surrounding my bones so that they would, at least, be able to support my own weight, but there was no way. My power was insufficient, and I didn't know enough about biology to compensate it forming more realistic muscles. I’d reached a bottleneck.

  The only way to improve was to keep training and optimizing my builds through trial and error… or so I thought before a fsh of inspiration hit me.

  Staring at the toy shovel stuck in the sand, I wondered if it could still be useful for me. The scoop acted as a sort of catalyst, greatly improving the control I had over my aura and allowing me to draw more energy from my well, but I never used it in my practice with the Spooky-Sandy-Skeleton-Mecha, I only used it to unch my moves.

  Recently, I’d been treating the workings of moves (like Sand Tomb) as something apart from the training I was doing to acquire a humanoid form, but deep down it was still the same; Ground-type energy manipution.

  That made me wonder; what would happen if I used my toy shovel while I wrapped the bones of my old body with my sand? Would that be of any use? It should make things easier, right?

  With that in mind, I grabbed the cheap imitation of a spade with my skeletal arm, using it as a focus to channel my energies, and I cursed myself for not thinking of that sooner.

  The gain was huge, instantaneous and free. I went from barely being able to move like a normal living being to being able to stand up and walk, just by holding a damn toy shovel. Of course, I did it like a baby taking its first steps (which was quite accurate from a certain point of view), but the fact that my legs were able to support my weight was a big step forward.

  Looking at the clearly undervalued toy shovel, I thought about what else I could do with it to help myself, and a slightly crazy idea occurred to me. Yes, even more than the usual ones. Gripping it with my shaking hands, I let out a small sigh and, when I was ready, I stabbed the shovel where my heart should be, letting out a small cry in the process.

  It was all pure show, of course.

  I could’ve just moved the sand covering the ribcage and put the shovel in, but that would have taken the fun of it a bit, wouldn't it? The faces those stupid Tentacools made at my apparent attempt to die again made the act worth it. Stopping overacting, I let out a small ugh at their expense and covered my chest with sand, ‘burying the shovel’.

  The improvement wasn't as drastic as before, but any gain was appreciated, so I wasn't going to compin. Turning the toy shovel into my heart also had the beneficial side effect of leaving me with my hands free, giving me greater freedom of movement, as well as allowing me to use both hands to cushion my falls in my attempts to relearn how to walk.

  I spent the rest of the night like that. When the sand affected by my ability dried, I would approach the waves and the Tentacool, now more scared than annoyed, would spray me with Water Guns in an attempt to drive me away. Their fear was delicious, as always, and I found that I could literally eat it, transforming it into an aura.

  Ghost stuff, I guess.

  When the sun came up, I’d managed to optimize the structure of my sandy-muscles enough to be able to perform some basic calisthenics exercises, and I almost looked like a person… Almost.

  The first thing I would do when I returned to civilization would be to read a biology book. The amount of time I would’ve saved by knowing more than I remembered from high school was incalcuble; at least 5 hours.

  “I see you’re not wasting your time, Sandy. I didn’t take you for a training freak,” said the old Wingull, perching on my head as I tried to keep my bance and not kiss the ground again.

  When had he arrived?

  “Gains are the only way to The Truth,” I answered, unconsciously and somewhat robotically, gncing at the rest of the beach.

  The little Corphish had resumed their pitched battle near the waves, watched by their older brothers, who also joined in the fray from time to time. It seemed like they’d started to team up, since some of them attacked the others in tandem, forcing them to find teammates to bance the game.

  It was an interesting way to train, to be honest, and it had a lot of potential if I bothered to give them some ideas. Without a doubt, ‘The Red Tide’ could inspire terror if they continued like this. I'd love to see whatever jerk tries to antagonize them once I'm gone.

  Mr. Krabs, for his part, was a little further away from the rest, chatting happily with his ‘friend’ Pale Feathers. Will the dense crustacean ever take her hints, or will the seagull confess her feelings first? Don’t miss the next episode of ‘Amores Salvajes’.

  "Sandy? Hello, Earth calling Sandy, answer the call or face the consequences," the Wingull over my head said before pecking me.

  “Hey, that hurts!”

  "That was the goal," the cheeky guy said, taking a seat next to me. “I'm gd to see you're back in the nd of the living ones. What the hell was The Truth, anyway?”

  "The-What?" I asked, returning to my normal form.

  “The Truth. You literally just… Ugh, it’s even worse than I thought,” the old bird replied, shaking his head. “Sandy, have you thought that, maybe, you’re overdoing a bit with your training?”

  “Yes, without a doubt.”

  “And are you going to slow down?”

  “Nope,” I denied, making the ‘p’ resonate.

  “I guess I can't force you… By the way, has your shovel always been this big?” he changed the subject, raising an eyebrow and pointing at my head with his wing.

  Somewhat curious, I used my sand to wrap the bones of my right arm, holding the aforementioned shovel in front of my ‘eyes’. The movement was so natural that I didn't even realize what I’d done, and I might never have noticed if it weren't for the snort next to me accompanied by a mocking, "Braggart…"

  That was kind of interesting, but my attention was focused on the object in front of my eyes.

  The shovel had certainly grown in size, going from measuring a mere 20 centimeters to more than 30, almost 40. The shape had also changed a bit, abandoning its soft, oval corners in favor of some angur, sharp edges, looking more like a real small spade than a toy.

  How had that fit inside my chest? Pokemon magic, that's how. Not content with that answer, I became serious and turned on my extrasensory sense, ready to further investigate the mystery in my hand.

  My shovel had always been… questionable, at best.

  A complete piece of Pokemon nonsense at worst.

  The beach showed no signs of having been touched by humans, and yet there was my shovel, perfectly pstic and no-natural. This didn’t quite fit into the Sandygast’s line either, since, although it wasn’t part of my body and it wouldn’t be fatal to lose it, in a certain way, I depended on it.

  That dissonance was one of the first things I questioned about my new world, but I hadn’t bothered to investigate why. I’d been busy and didn’t really want to dwell on every mystery present in a world like this, but I was getting a little tired of just going along with this kind of thing, especially if it affected me personally.

  Focusing my senses on the ‘shovel’, the first thing I noticed was that, of a shovel, it only had the appearance. In vulgar terms, this was, in essence, a hyper-condensed jumble of Ghost-type aura molded into the innocent, harmless form of a shovel toy. It wasn’t ethereal, but it was not quite physical, remaining in a strange middle ground between energy and matter.

  If I tuned in, I could feel that energy born of resentment resonating with me. It wasn’t invasive, but it wasn’t warm either. It was my Ghost part, in its purest form, whispering promises in my ear. Promises that could only be fulfilled if I revealed their mysteries. Promises that could only be realized when I discovered my mysteries.

  Shaking my head, coming out of the little trance I’d accidentally fallen into, I pced the shovel back on my head and thought out loud, “So there is where my Ghost-type comes from, huh?”

  “Are you okay there, Sandy?” asked the old bird, who had been looking at me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine, I’d say,” I replied, shrinking the paddle above my head to its original shape and size, spinning it like a beybde. “I think I've found a way to evolve into something I want, but I still need to put the pieces together.”

  “That's wonderful, my friend!” the seagull sang, putting aside his usual sassy tone and being genuinely happy for me. “It's always a pleasure to see someone reaching new heights. Do you have an idea of ??what you're missing?”

  “I'm not sure, but a battle against someone extremely powerful would help,” I muttered, gncing sideways at my winged friend. “Testing my limits by facing an opponent who is far superior, has a type advantage, and has much more experience than me would force me to think outside the box, making me try some things that I wouldn't normally think of… Can you think of anyone like that?”

  “I have no idea who you could be talking about,” the rascal whistle, pying along.

  “Yes, I don't think there's anyone on this beach who meets those criteria.”

  “Yes, it's a real shame. Really, really shame.”

  …

  “Pff… Now seriously, seafarer, do you fancy a fight?”

  “I thought you were never going to ask me!”