Chapter 44: Briv VS Ennui
The Aethelburg Arena glowed like a jewel in the heart of the capital, its crystalline dome refracting the afternoon sun into a thousand dancing rainbows. The structure was massive—larger than any stadium Briv had ever seen—and yet it felt intimate somehow, the way great architecture often did. The stands were empty now, but on League day they would hold thirty thousand screaming spectators.
Briv stood at the entrance, his breath misting in the cold air. Six months ago, he'd walked into a stadium just like this one and walked out a champion. Now he was back, and the weight of that memory pressed against his chest like a second heartbeat.
"You're doing it again," Patricia said, appearing at his side.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking too loud."
He smiled despite himself. "That obvious?"
"You've got that look. The one where you're replaying every mistake you've ever made and deciding you're going to make them all again."
"That's a very specific look."
"I've had six months to study it."
She took his hand, and for a moment they just stood there, watching the sun arc across the sky. The canals below the arena glittered like liquid gold, their surface broken only by the occasional ferry gliding past. The floating bridges swayed gently, suspended by ancient technology no one fully understood anymore.
"We should train," Briv said.
"We've been training for weeks."
"Then we should train more."
Patricia squeezed his hand. "You're ready. Riolu's ready. Shinx and Chimchar—"
"—are both strong enough to handle whatever the League throws at us." He finished the sentence for her. "I know. I've heard you say it a hundred times."
"And yet you still don't believe it."
He didn't answer. Because she was right.
---
The training grounds behind the arena sprawled across three acres of carefully maintained terrain—grass fields, stone arenas, pools of water, and even a small volcanic crater for fire-types. It was the most advanced facility Briv had ever set foot in, and he'd spent the last two weeks working his team to exhaustion within its walls.
Today, though, something felt different.
He released Riolu first. The fighting-type materialized in a crouch, its red eyes scanning the surroundings with the calm precision of a soldier. It had grown in the months since Briv had caught it—taller, leaner, its aura-sensing abilities sharper than ever. It rarely spoke now. It didn't need to. One look was enough.
Shinx came next, all crackling electricity and barely contained energy. The electric-type immediately began chasing its tail, sparks flying from its fur, its star-shaped tail tip glowing bright.
And then Chimchar.
The fire-type emerged from its ball with a flourish—a spin, a kick, a burst of flame from its tail that painted the air orange. It was showing off. It was always showing off.
"Alright," Briv said. "Let's run the combinations again."
They worked for an hour. Then two. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of pink and violet, and still they trained. Riolu's Quick Attack blurred into Force Palm with a fluidity that made Briv's chest ache with pride. Shinx's Spark connected with every target, its accuracy improving with each repetition. Chimchar's Flame Wheel burned hotter, brighter, more controlled.
They were ready.
They had to be.
"Still at it?"
Briv turned.
Nicola stood at the edge of the training field, her Shieldon waddling beside her. The fossil Pokémon had adapted well to its new trainer—it was slower than Cranidos, more defensive, but its bond with Nicola was already visible in the way it positioned itself between her and any potential threat.
"One more round," Briv said.
"One more round. Sure." Nicola crossed her arms. "You've been saying that for two hours."
"Have I?"
"Patricia sent me. Said you needed to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're a terrible liar."
He recalled his Pokémon and fell into step beside her. The training grounds were empty now, the last few trainers packing up their gear and heading home. The floodlights had come on, casting long shadows across the grass.
"Something's bothering you," Nicola said.
"Besides the maniac who wants to sell us to the highest bidder?"
"Besides that."
Briv shoved his hands into his pockets. "The League. It's different this time. Last year, I was nobody. I had nothing to lose. Now..."
"Now you're the champion. Everyone expects you to win."
"Everyone except me."
Nicola stopped walking. Her sharp brown eyes studied his face with an intensity that made him want to look away.
"You beat Axel," she said. "You beat Jack's people. You survived things that would have killed most trainers. Why the hell don't you believe in yourself?"
"Because belief isn't enough." The words came out harsher than he intended. "I've seen what's out there. I've seen what the Eclipse Squad can do. The League... it feels like a distraction. Like playing games while the world burns."
"So don't play."
"I have to. That's the deal. Jack's still out there, and the League is our best shot at stopping him. But every hour I spend training is an hour he spends planning. Every match I win is a match he uses to consolidate power."
Nicola was quiet for a long moment.
"You can't save everyone," she said finally. "You can't carry the whole world on your shoulders. The League isn't a distraction—it's a weapon. You win, you get influence. You get resources. You get the kind of platform that makes men like Jack nervous."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
She walked away, her Shieldon trundling after her. Briv watched her go, the wind cold against his face.
---
The inn they'd rented was modest by Aethelburg standards—three rooms on the top floor, a shared kitchen, and a balcony that overlooked the canals. It was the kind of place where trainers stayed between matches, its walls covered in faded posters of past champions and its floors sticky with decades of spilled beer.
Briv found Patricia in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled like curry.
"You're still alive," she said without turning.
"Nicola said you were worried."
"Nicola said I was worried. Nicola also said you were being an idiot."
"She's not wrong."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. She leaned into him, her body warm against his.
"The League isn't for another three days," she said. "You should rest."
"I know."
"And eat."
"I know."
"And stop brooding."
"I don't brood. I reflect."
"You brood."
He kissed her neck, and she shivered, her hand coming up to tangle in his hair.
"Reflect on this," she murmured.
He turned her around, and the kiss that followed was slow and deliberate, the kind that said everything words couldn't. Her hands found his chest, his found her hips, and for a few minutes the curry sat forgotten on the stove.
Then someone knocked on the door.
"Gods above," Patricia muttered. "What now?"
---
The man standing in the hallway was tall and thin and utterly expressionless.
He wore black—head to toe, leather and chains and spikes, the kind of outfit that screamed look at me while simultaneously saying don't talk to me. His hair was a dark curtain shot through with streaks of deep red, and his eyes were the color of old pennies, flat and unimpressed.
Ennui.
Briv hadn't seen him since the Pokémon League last year. The goth trainer had competed in the same tournament, making it to the semifinals before losing to a fire-type specialist from the eastern provinces. He'd been memorable—not for his skills, but for his demeanor. Ennui treated every battle like a chore. He'd won matches without changing expression. He'd lost matches without changing expression. He'd once spent an entire interview answering questions with single words and monosyllabic grunts.
"Ennui," Briv said. "It's been a while."
"Has it."
"Are you here to—"
"Chat? No." Ennui's voice was slow, measured, every syllable placed with surgical precision. "I heard you were in town. Training. Preparing."
"Word travels fast."
"Word travels loudly when you're the champion." Ennui's gaze drifted to Patricia, then back to Briv. "You're competing in the League."
"I am."
"So am I."
Silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap.
"I want to test you," Ennui said. "Before the League. Three-on-three. Tonight."
Briv blinked. "Tonight?"
"Tomorrow, then. Whenever. I don't care about the timing. I care about the result."
"Result of what?"
Ennui's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes—a flicker of interest, perhaps, or challenge. "I've been following your career. The things you've done. The things you've survived. You're stronger than you were last year. Much stronger. I want to know if you're strong enough."
"Strong enough for what?"
"For the League. For what's coming after." Ennui tilted his head, the chains on his collar jangling softly. "The Eclipse Squad. The Northern Alliance. The war that's brewing. You think the League is just about trophies? It's not. It's a selection process. The winners get to fight in the real battles."
Briv felt his pulse quicken.
"Alright," he said. "Tomorrow. Sunset. The training grounds."
Ennui nodded once. "Don't be late."
He turned and walked away, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. He didn't look back.
---
The training grounds at sunset were empty.
Briv stood at one end of the stone arena, his breath misting in the cold air. Patricia, Nicola, Dariana, and Samuel were seated on a low wall at the edge of the field, their Pokémon released and watching from the sidelines. Axel was nowhere to be seen—he'd vanished after their return to Aethelburg, muttering something about contacts and information. Officer Jenny had promised to keep an eye on him.
Ennui stood opposite Briv, his posture relaxed, his expression bored.
The goth trainer held a Poké Ball in one hand, turning it slowly between his fingers like a coin.
"Rules," Ennui said. "Three-on-three. Single elimination. No items. No time limit. We fight until one side is unable to continue."
Briv nodded. "Fine."
"Then let's begin."
---
Ennui's first Pokémon materialized with a soft, ghostly hum.
Misdreavus was a spectral thing—a floating head wreathed in shadow, its necklace of red gems gleaming in the dying light. Its eyes were hollow and ancient, and its mane of black hair drifted around it like smoke in a breeze.
"Riolu," Briv said.
The fighting-type burst from its ball, landing in a low stance, its aura sensors flickering. It acknowledged the Misdreavus with a curt nod—a warrior's respect—and the ghost-type responded with a giggle that sent chills down Briv's spine.
"Start," Ennui said.
Misdreavus attacked first. It didn't move—not physically—but the air around it rippled and tore, and a blast of psionic energy screamed toward Riolu. The fighting-type dodged, but only just, the attack grazing its shoulder and sending it stumbling sideways.
"Shadow Sneak," Ennui said.
The Misdreavus vanished. One moment it was there, floating in the air like a nightmare; the next, it had become a twisting shadow on the ground, racing across the stone toward Riolu's feet.
"Jump!" Briv shouted.
Riolu leaped, and the shadow passed beneath it, reforming into the ghost-type's true body directly behind the fighting-type.
"Confuse Ray."
A beam of light shot from Misdreavus's eyes, striking Riolu before it could turn. The fighting-type staggered, its movements suddenly jerky and unpredictable, its eyes unfocused.
"Riolu! Snap out of it!"
But the confusion held. Riolu swung wildly at empty air, its attacks hitting nothing, its body twisting in ways that made Briv's stomach clench. The Misdreavus circled lazily, watching, waiting.
"Will-O-Wisp," Ennui said.
A blue flame materialized in the air and drifted toward Riolu. The fighting-type couldn't dodge—couldn't even see it—and the flame struck, searing its fur and leaving a lingering burn.
"Fuck," Briv whispered. He had to end this. Now.
"Riolu, I know you can hear me. Focus. The confusion is in your mind, not your body. Find your center."
For a moment, nothing happened. Riolu swung at another hallucination, its movements growing more desperate.
Then it stopped.
Its eyes closed. Its breathing steadied. And when it opened its eyes again, they were clear.
"Detect," Briv said.
Riolu's aura sensors flared, and the world seemed to slow. The Misdreavus's next attack—a Shadow Ball—drifted toward the fighting-type like a leaf in molasses. Riolu stepped aside, pivoted, and launched itself upward.
"Force Palm!"
The strike landed square on Misdreavus's spectral face. The ghost-type shrieked—a sound like breaking glass—and dissolved into shadow.
But it didn't faint. It reformed a few feet away, its eyes glowing brighter with fury.
"Misdreavus," Ennui said. "Mean Look."
The ghost-type's eyes locked onto Riolu, and suddenly the fighting-type stopped moving. Its legs were locked. Its escape routes were blocked. It was trapped.
"Now," Ennui said. "Perish Song."
Briv's blood ran cold. Perish Song. A death sentence—if the battle lasted long enough, both Pokémon would faint. It was a guaranteed draw, but at the cost of Riolu's participation in the rest of the match.
"Riolu, quick—hit it before it can finish!"
But Riolu couldn't move. The Mean Look held it in place.
"Sorry," Ennui said, and he almost sounded like he meant it. "But Riolu's out."
The Perish Song rose like a tide—soft, gentle, utterly terrifying. Riolu grimaced, its body trembling as the move took hold. It had three turns. Then it would faint.
"Return," Briv said, and Riolu dissolved into red light.
He had one Pokémon down, and Ennui's Misdreavus was still standing.
---
"Shinx," Briv said. "You're up."
The electric-type materialized with a flash of blue fur and crackling sparks. It looked at the Misdreavus, then back at Briv, its expression asking: really?
"Really," Briv said. "You've got this."
Shinx's ears flattened with determination. It turned to face its opponent, its star-shaped tail tip glowing bright.
But Ennui was already returning Misdreavus to its ball.
"Good," he said. "You learned. But I don't intend to make this easy."
His second Pokémon appeared in a flash of purple smoke.
Skuntank.
The poison-type was larger than any Briv had seen before—a massive, lumbering beast with a white stripe running down its back and a tail raised like a flag. Its eyes were small and mean, and its fur was matted with something that gleamed wetly in the evening light.
"Begin," Ennui said.
Skuntank attacked first. It didn't charge—didn't roar—didn't do anything so dramatic. It simply opened its tail and released a cloud of toxic gas.
"Shinx, get out of there!"
But the gas spread faster than Shinx could move. The electric-type coughed, choked, and staggered as the poison entered its system. Its fur began to sizzle where the gas touched it.
"Shinx, use Spark! Hit it from range!"
Shinx tried. It really did. It gathered electricity in its body, compressed it into a ball of energy, and launched it at Skuntank. But the attack passed through the cloud of gas and fizzled before it reached the poison-type.
Ennui watched impassively.
"Poison Jab," he said.
Skuntank lumbered forward, its claws dripping with venom. Shinx tried to dodge, but the poison had slowed it down, made its movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The attack connected, and Shinx flew backward, landing hard on the stone.
"Shinx!"
The electric-type struggled to rise. Its body was shaking, its breathing ragged. The poison was spreading.
"Can you keep going?" Briv asked.
Shinx looked at him. Its eyes were watering, its fur was singed, but it nodded.
"Then use Quick Attack. Circle around. Don't let it hit you again."
Shinx obeyed. It moved fast—faster than any poisoned Pokémon should have been able to—circling Skuntank in a blur of blue. The poison-type tracked it, but its movements were slow, lumbering, predictable.
"Spark," Briv said. "Now."
Shinx poured every ounce of electricity it had left into a single, devastating attack. It struck Skuntank in the side, and the poison-type screamed—a deep, guttural sound that shook the arena walls.
But it didn't fall.
"Sludge Bomb," Ennui said.
Skuntank's mouth opened, and a ball of toxic sludge shot out. Shinx tried to dodge, but the poison had done its work—the electric-type was too slow, too weak. The Sludge Bomb caught it square in the chest, and Shinx collapsed.
"I'm sorry," Briv whispered, recalling it.
He was down to one Pokémon. Ennui had two.
---
Chimchar looked at the Skuntank, then at Briv.
There was no fear in its eyes. No hesitation. Just that familiar spark of mischief, tempered by something harder—something like resolve.
"Ready?" Briv asked.
Chimchar nodded.
"Then let's show them what we're made of."
---
The battle turned in a single moment.
Chimchar didn't wait for Ennui's command. It moved the instant it hit the field, a blur of orange and fire. Skuntank tried to track it, tried to aim another Sludge Bomb, but the fire-type was too fast.
"Flame Wheel!"
Chimchar curled into a ball and spun, flames erupting from its body. It struck Skuntank's legs, knocking the poison-type off balance, and then bounced—bounced—off a nearby rock and hit it again from the other side.
Skuntank roared in pain.
"Acrobatics," Briv said.
Chimchar launched itself into the air, spinning and flipping, its body glowing with fighting-type energy. It landed on Skuntank's back, stamped down hard, and leaped away before the poison-type could retaliate.
"Enough," Ennui said. His voice was still flat, but there was something new in it—something like respect. "Skuntank, Explosion."
Briv's heart stopped.
"Chimchar, get back!"
But Chimchar was already moving. It raced toward Briv, its tail flame blazing, and threw itself behind a stone wall just as Skuntank's body erupted.
The explosion shook the arena. Debris flew in all directions. The blast wave knocked Briv off his feet, sent Patricia and the others diving for cover, shattered windows in the buildings beyond the training grounds.
When the dust cleared, Skuntank was unconscious.
Chimchar was still standing.
---
"Seviper," Ennui said.
The snake Pokémon materialized in a coil of purple scales and sharp fangs. It was long—easily ten feet from nose to tail—and its eyes gleamed with malicious intelligence.
Chimchar was exhausted. Its breathing was ragged, its fur singed, its movements slower than they'd been at the start of the battle. But its eyes—its eyes were still bright.
"Last round," Briv said. "You've got this."
Chimchar grinned.
Ennui's expression didn't change. But something in his posture shifted—a tightening of the shoulders, a slight tilt of the head. He was taking this seriously now.
"Seviper, Poison Tail."
The snake struck like lightning, its bladed tail slicing through the air. Chimchar barely dodged, the tip grazing its cheek and leaving a thin line of blood.
"Flamethrower!"
Chimchar opened its mouth, and fire poured out. Seviper coiled away, its scales blackening where the flames licked them, but it didn't retreat. If anything, it seemed to enjoy the pain.
"Glare," Ennui said.
Seviper's eyes locked onto Chimchar, and the fire-type froze. Not from fear—from paralysis. Its muscles locked up, its body refusing to move.
"Now," Ennui said. "Night Slash."
Seviper lunged, its tail glowing with dark energy. But Chimchar didn't need to move. It didn't need to dodge.
It just needed to burn.
"Overheat," Briv said.
Chimchar's body erupted. Flames poured from every inch of its body—not a controlled attack, but a desperate release. Seviper recoiled, its attack missing by inches, its scales blistering from the heat.
The paralysis broke.
"Close Combat!" Briv shouted.
Chimchar launched itself at Seviper, its fists blazing with fighting-type energy. It struck once, twice, three times—each blow landing with a crack that echoed across the arena. Seviper tried to counter, its fangs snapping, but Chimchar was too fast, too fierce, too determined.
"Fire Punch!"
The final blow caught Seviper square in the jaw, and the snake Pokémon went flying. It crashed into the arena wall, slumped to the ground, and didn't move.
Silence.
Then Chimchar turned to Briv and grinned.
---
Ennui recalled Seviper without a word.
He stood there for a long moment, his expression still unreadable, his posture still relaxed. Then he nodded—once, slowly—and turned to leave.
"Wait," Briv said.
Ennui stopped.
"That was... that was a good battle. You're strong. Stronger than you were last year."
"I know."
"I just—why? Why did you want to fight me?"
Ennui was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than Briv had ever heard it.
"Because I've been watching you. The things you've done. The people you've saved. The enemies you've made." He turned his head, just enough to meet Briv's eyes. "The Eclipse Squad killed my brother."
Briv felt the words hit him like a physical blow.
"Two years ago. He was a trainer, like us. Good, but not great. They recruited him. Promised him power, money, purpose. He said no. So they killed him."
The chains on Ennui's collar jangled softly as he shifted his weight.
"I've spent two years trying to find a way to hurt them. To make them pay. But I can't do it alone." He paused. "You're building something. I can see it. A team. A resistance. People who actually give a damn about something other than themselves."
"Are you asking to join?"
Ennui didn't answer. He just walked away, his boots echoing against the stone.
"Think about it," Briv called after him. "We could use someone like you."
Ennui didn't respond.
But he didn't say no.
---
The others crowded around Briv as the adrenaline faded.
"That was insane," Samuel said, his dreadlocks bouncing as he shook his head. "I thought you were done. Twice."
"So did I," Briv admitted.
"The Overheat," Nicola said. "That was risky. If Chimchar had been even slightly weaker—"
"It trusted me. I trusted it. That's what matters."
Patricia wrapped her arms around him, and he held her tight. Chimchar climbed onto his shoulder, exhausted but proud, its flame burning low and warm.
"You did good," Briv told it. "You did really good."
Chimchar chirped softly in response.
Dariana approached with a smile, her Gallade following close behind. "That was quite the display," she said. "The way you handled Misdreavus, the timing on the Overheat—it was impressive."
"Thanks."
"You're ready for the League. Both of you."
Briv looked at the arena—at the scorch marks on the stone, the shattered windows, the debris still scattered across the field. Then he looked at his friends, at his Pokémon, at the woman he loved.
"I hope so," he said.
---
That night, he lay awake.
Patricia slept beside him, her breathing slow and steady, her hand curled loosely around his. The inn was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the canals and the occasional cry of a night bird.
Briv stared at the ceiling.
He thought about Ennui. About the brother he'd lost. About the war that was coming and the people it would consume. He thought about Jack, still out there, still plotting, still waiting for his moment to strike.
He thought about the League.
Three days. In three days, he'd enter the arena again. He'd face the best trainers in Elyssia. And if he won—when he won—he'd earn the platform he needed to fight the real battles.
The ones that mattered.
Patricia stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open.
"Can't sleep?" she murmured.
"I'm trying."
She propped herself up on one elbow, her blond hair falling across her face. "What are you thinking about?"
"Ennui. His brother. The way he looked at me when he said the Eclipse Squad killed him."
"He wants revenge."
"Don't we all?"
She was quiet for a moment. Then she leaned over and kissed him—soft, gentle, the kind of kiss that said I'm here and everything's going to be okay.
"You're not alone," she said. "You know that, right?"
"I know."
"You've got me. You've got Nicola, and Dariana. You've got Samuel. You've got your Pokémon. You're building something real."
He pulled her close.
"I know," he said again.
And this time, he almost believed it.