Chapter 79: The Infernal Monkey
The evening had settled over Aethelburg like a bruise, purple and gold bleeding across the sky, when Briv found himself back at the training grounds.
He hadn't planned on it. After the battle with Marcus, after the conversation with Patricia, after the quiet reconciliation in the inn's common room, he'd intended to rest. To eat something. To sleep.
But his body wouldn't settle.
Luxio had sensed it first—the restless energy crackling under Briv's skin, the way his fingers kept curling into fists, the way his jaw kept tightening around words he didn't say. The Electric-type had followed him out the door without a sound, its star-tipped tail twitching with quiet understanding.
Monferno and Grotle had come too.
They always did.
---
The training grounds were empty at this hour.
The floodlights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the packed earth, and the chalk lines of the arena gleamed white against the dark. Somewhere in the distance, a canal barge sounded its horn—low and mournful—and the crystal towers of the city glittered like frozen fireworks against the night.
Briv stood at the center of the field.
He breathed.
Out.
"You're brooding."
He turned.
Axel leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, Rotom flickering in lazy circles around his head. The older man's green eyes caught the floodlight and held it, sharp and knowing.
"I'm not brooding."
"You're standing alone in an empty training ground at night, staring at nothing." Axel pushed off the wall. "That's brooding."
Briv didn't answer.
Axel walked toward him, his boots crunching against the dirt. Rotom followed, its orange body crackling with soft static.
"You fought well today," Axel said. "Against Marcus."
"I know."
"But you're still angry."
Briv's jaw tightened.
"I'm not—"
"You are." Axel stopped a few feet away. "You've been angry since the moment I met you. Since before that, probably. Since the League. Since whatever happened with the Eclipse Squad."
Briv looked away.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know more than you think."
Silence.
The floodlights hummed.
"You want to fight again," Axel said. "You want to hit something. You want to prove something."
Briv's hands curled into fists.
"So what if I do?"
Axel smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
"Then fight me."
---
Briv blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me." Axel stepped back, his Rotom buzzing with sudden excitement. "Three-on-three. Standard rules. I'll referee."
Briv stared at him.
"You're joking."
"I don't joke."
"But you—" Briv stopped. "You only have Rotom."
"I have Rotom," Axel agreed. "But I also know a guy."
He pulled a small device from his pocket—a communicator, sleek and black—and pressed a button.
"This is Axel. I need a sparring partner. Training grounds. Now."
Static crackled.
Then a voice, low and rough: "On my way."
Axel pocketed the device.
"Give it ten minutes."
---
The stranger arrived in seven.
He was tall—taller than Axel, taller than Briv—with broad shoulders and a scar that cut through his left eyebrow. His hair was cropped close to his skull, military-style, and his eyes were the color of gunmetal. He wore a sleeveless jacket over a faded shirt, and his arms were corded with muscle.
He didn't introduce himself.
He just walked to the opposite end of the arena, pulled three Pokéballs from his belt, and waited.
Axel stepped to the center.
"Three-on-three," he said. "No substitutions. Begin when I signal."
Briv's heart pounded.
He looked at his team.
Luxio stood at his left, fur crackling, eyes fierce.
Grotle stood at his right, steady as stone, breath slow and even.
Monferno stood behind him, tail blazing, fingers twitching.
"Luxio," Briv said. "You're up."
Luxio padded onto the field.
The stranger threw his first ball.
"Noctowl."
---
The Owl Pokémon materialized in a flash of brown and cream, its wings spread wide, its eyes gleaming with intelligence. It was larger than Hoothoot—much larger—and its head swiveled with unsettling precision, tracking Luxio with both pupils.
"Begin."
Luxio moved first.
"Spark."
Electricity crackled along Luxio's fur, and it launched itself forward, claws extended, teeth bared.
Noctowl didn't dodge.
"Psychic."
The air rippled.
Luxio froze mid-leap, its body locked in place, its eyes wide with shock. A faint blue aura surrounded it, pulsing with psychic energy, and Noctowl's eyes glowed brighter.
"Confusion."
Luxio's body twisted.
It slammed into the ground.
"Luxio!"
Luxio struggled to its feet, shaking its head, but Briv could see the damage—the way its movements were sluggish, the way its eyes couldn't quite focus.
"Air Slash."
Noctowl's wings beat once.
The crescent of wind screamed across the arena.
Luxio tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The attack caught it across the flank, and Luxio yelped, tumbling sideways. It hit the wall and didn't move.
"Luxio is unable to battle," Axel said. "Noctowl wins."
---
Briv recalled Luxio.
His hands were steady.
He'd expected this. Noctowl was a problem—fast, smart, and psychic. Luxio was strong, but strength meant nothing against an opponent who could freeze you in place and tear you apart from the inside.
He needed endurance.
He needed patience.
"Grotle."
The Grove Pokémon materialized with a low, rumbling sound, its shell gleaming under the floodlights, the shrubs on its back rustling in the night breeze. It looked at Noctowl and blinked slowly.
"Begin."
Noctowl moved first.
"Air Slash."
The wind screamed.
Grotle didn't dodge.
It planted its feet and took the hit. The attack sliced across its shell, leaving a shallow gouge, but Grotle didn't flinch.
"Curse."
Grotle's body darkened.
Its muscles tensed.
Its eyes gleamed red.
"Now. Razor Leaf."
Grotle's shrubs exploded.
A storm of leaves shot across the arena, sharp as knives, and Noctowl couldn't dodge them all. One caught its wing. Another sliced its chest.
It screeched.
"Psychic."
The blue aura returned.
Grotle froze.
But it didn't fall.
It pushed back—slowly, painfully—its feet digging into the earth, its body trembling with effort. The psychic energy cracked around it like glass.
"Seed Bomb."
Grotle's mouth opened.
A massive seed launched forward.
Noctowl tried to dodge.
Too slow.
The seed exploded against its body, and Noctowl spiraled backward, feathers scattering, eyes wild.
"Air Slash."
Noctowl's wings beat desperately.
The wind screamed.
Grotle took the hit.
It stumbled.
But it didn't fall.
"Razor Leaf."
Another storm.
Noctowl couldn't dodge.
It fell.
" Noctowl is unable to battle," Axel said. "Grotle wins."
---
The stranger recalled Noctowl.
He didn't look upset.
He looked interested.
He drew his second ball.
"Staraptor."
---
The Predator Pokémon materialized with a scream that split the night. It was massive—far larger than Nicola's Staravia—with dark gray plumage, a crimson crest, and eyes that burned with predatory fury. It spread its wings, and the floodlights flickered.
Grotle looked at it.
Grotle did not blink.
"Begin."
Staraptor moved first.
"Close Combat."
It dove.
Grotle tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
Staraptor's talons caught Grotle across the face, and the Grove Pokémon staggered backward. Another strike. Another. Staraptor was relentless—a blur of feathers and fury, striking from every angle, giving Grotle no time to breathe.
"Grotle, hold on!"
Grotle held on.
It took the hits.
It took every single one.
And when Staraptor finally paused—when it hovered above the arena, chest heaving, eyes still burning—Grotle was still standing.
Barely.
"Seed Bomb."
Grotle's mouth opened.
The seed launched.
Staraptor dodged.
"Brave Bird."
It dove.
The impact shattered the ground.
Grotle flew backward, crashed through the stone wall, and landed in a heap of broken shell and dust.
It didn't move.
"Grotle is unable to battle," Axel said. "Staraptor wins."
---
Briv recalled Grotle.
His heart was pounding.
Two down. One left.
He looked at Monferno.
Monferno looked back.
Its tail blazed brighter.
"You ready?"
Monferno nodded.
"Then let's go."
---
Monferno stepped onto the field.
Staraptor circled above, its eyes tracking the Fire-type with cold precision. It was faster. Stronger. More experienced.
But Monferno didn't care.
Monferno never cared.
"Begin."
Staraptor moved first.
"Brave Bird."
It dove.
Monferno didn't dodge.
"Mach Punch."
Monferno's fist connected with Staraptor's face.
The impact stopped the Flying-type mid-dive, and it tumbled backward, screeching in shock. Monferno pressed the advantage—another punch, another, another—each one faster than the last.
"Close Combat."
Staraptor recovered.
It spun.
Its talons caught Monferno across the chest.
Monferno staggered.
Staraptor pressed forward—strike after strike, each one brutal, each one precise. Monferno blocked what it could, dodged what it couldn't, but the damage was mounting.
Blood dripped from a gash above its eye.
Its breathing was ragged.
But it didn't fall.
"Monferno, listen to me."
Monferno's ear twitched.
"You're faster than it. You're smarter than it. And you're angrier than it."
Monferno's tail flared.
"Use that."
Monferno's eyes blazed.
"Flame Wheel."
Monferno curled into a ball.
Fire engulfed its body.
It rolled forward.
Staraptor tried to dodge.
Monferno uncurled.
It leaped.
Its fist caught Staraptor square in the chest.
The Flying-type rocketed backward, crashed into the floodlight pole, and crumpled to the ground. It tried to rise—tried to spread its wings—but its body wouldn't cooperate.
It fell.
"Staraptor is unable to battle," Axel said. "Monferno wins."
---
The stranger recalled Staraptor.
He looked at Monferno.
Then at Briv.
Then he smiled.
It was the first time Briv had seen him smile, and it wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of someone who had been waiting for this moment.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
He drew his final ball.
"Blaziken."
---
The Blaze Pokémon materialized in a burst of fire.
It was tall—taller than Monferno—with long, powerful legs, wrist blades that gleamed like polished steel, and eyes that burned with ancient fury. Its feathers were red and white, its crest like a crown of flames, and when it moved, the air around it shimmered with heat.
Monferno looked at it.
Blaziken looked back.
Something passed between them—something primal, something old.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Blaziken moved first.
"Blaze Kick."
It crossed the distance in a heartbeat.
Its leg caught Monferno across the face.
Monferno flew.
It hit the wall.
It didn't get up.
"Monferno!"
Monferno stirred.
Slowly. Painfully.
It pushed itself to its feet.
Its tail was dim.
Its eyes were glassy.
But it was standing.
"Monferno, you can't—"
Monferno roared.
The sound echoed across the arena, raw and defiant, and something inside Briv tightened.
He'd heard that roar before.
He'd heard it every time Monferno refused to quit. Every time it pushed past its limits. Every time it looked at an opponent—at a wall—at the entire fucking world—and said no.
"Alright," Briv said. "You want to do this?"
Monferno nodded.
"Then let's do it."
---
Blaziken attacked again.
"Sky Uppercut."
Its fist caught Monferno in the chest and lifted it off the ground. Monferno spiraled upward, flames trailing behind it, and crashed back down in a heap.
It didn't stay down.
"Flame Wheel."
Monferno rolled forward.
Blaziken sidestepped.
Monferno uncurled and pivoted.
"Mach Punch."
Its fist connected with Blaziken's jaw.
The Blaze Pokémon's head snapped sideways.
It didn't fall.
It turned back.
Its eyes burned brighter.
"Brave Bird."
Blaziken dove.
Monferno tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The impact shattered the ground beneath them, and Monferno flew backward, tumbling end over end. It hit the wall—again—and slid down, leaving a smear of blood on the stone.
"Monferno is—"
Monferno moved.
It pushed itself up.
Its arms trembled.
Its legs shook.
But it stood.
"No," Briv whispered. "No, you can't—"
Monferno looked at him.
Its eyes were different now.
They were calm.
They were certain.
They were saying goodbye.
"Monferno, don't—"
Monferno turned.
It faced Blaziken.
And then it burned.
---
The fire started in its tail.
It spread—up its spine, across its chest, into its eyes—and the heat was so intense that Briv had to shield his face. The floodlights flickered. The ground cracked. The air itself seemed to ignite.
Monferno screamed.
Not in pain.
In triumph.
The light consumed it.
And when it faded—when the fire died and the smoke cleared—something new stood in its place.
Infernape.
---
The Pokémon was taller than Monferno. Leaner. Its fur was a deep, rich red, and its face was marked with white and blue. Its tail blazed with an inferno, and its eyes—its eyes—burned with a fire that had nothing to do with flame.
It looked at Blaziken.
Blaziken looked back.
And for the first time, the Blaze Pokémon hesitated.
"Blaze Kick."
Blaziken attacked.
Infernape moved.
It was fast—faster than anything Briv had ever seen. It ducked under the kick, spun, and drove its fist into Blaziken's chest.
The impact cracked the air.
Blaziken flew backward.
It hit the wall.
The wall crumbled.
"Mach Punch."
Infernape crossed the distance in a blink.
Its fist caught Blaziken before the Blaze Pokémon could recover. Another punch. Another. Another. Each one faster than the last. Each one harder.
"Close Combat."
Blaziken tried to fight back.
It couldn't.
Infernape was relentless—a blur of fire and fury, striking from every angle, giving Blaziken no time to breathe. The Blaze Pokémon staggered. Its legs buckled. Its eyes dimmed.
"Flare Blitz."
Infernape's body ignited.
It launched forward.
The impact shook the arena.
Blaziken flew.
It hit the ground.
It didn't get up.
"Blaziken is unable to battle," Axel said. "Infernape wins. Briv wins the match."
---
Silence.
The stranger recalled Blaziken.
He looked at Infernape.
Then at Briv.
Then he nodded—slowly, respectfully—and turned and walked away.
He didn't look back.
---
Axel approached.
"Not bad."
Briv looked at him.
"Not bad?"
"You won. But more importantly—" Axel nodded at Infernape. "You evolved."
Briv looked at Infernape.
Infernape looked back.
Its eyes were still burning.
But softer now.
"You did good," Briv said.
Infernape nodded.
It walked to his side and sat down, its tail curling around its legs.
Luxio and Grotle joined them—Luxio limping, Grotle moving slowly—and they stood together in the center of the arena.
"Let's go home," Briv said.
They walked back to the inn together.
The city hummed around them.
The League was twenty-five days away.
And for the first time in weeks, Briv felt like he could breathe.
=====
The training grounds had emptied by the time Briv made it back to the inn, the floodlights dimming behind him like dying stars. Infernape walked at his side, its new form still strange—longer limbs, sharper angles, a fire that burned hotter than anything Monferno had ever produced.
Luxio limped alongside Grotle, the two of them trading glances that said more than words ever could. They'd all felt it—the moment Monferno had burned through its own limits and emerged as something else entirely. Something fierce. Something unstoppable.
The inn's common room was warm when they entered, lamplight pooling across worn wooden floors, and Patricia looked up from the couch where she sat with Lopunny.
Her eyes went wide.
"Is that—"
"Infernape," Briv said. "Yeah."
Patricia stood, crossing the room in three quick strides. She stopped in front of Infernape, her blue eyes traveling up its length, taking in the flames that crowned its head, the lean muscle that coiled beneath its fur.
"He evolved."
"During the fight. Against Blaziken."
Patricia looked at him.
"Blaziken?"
"Long story."
Lopunny approached Infernape, its long ears twitching, its brown eyes curious. Infernape looked down at it—not with aggression, but with something like recognition. They were both fighters. They both understood.
"Dinner," Patricia said. "You need to eat."
Briv didn't argue.
---
The inn's kitchen was small but serviceable, and Patricia moved through it with the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. She pulled ingredients from the cooler—fresh vegetables, rice, a slab of fish that glistened under the lamp—and set to work.
Briv sat at the counter.
Infernape sat beside him.
Luxio and Grotle had retreated to the corner, curling up on a worn rug that smelled of dust and old wood.
"How'd it go?" Patricia asked. "The battle."
"Won."
"I figured." She sliced the fish with quick, precise strokes. "You're still tense, though."
Briv didn't answer.
Patricia glanced over her shoulder.
"Briv."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He looked at her.
She set down the knife and turned.
"Talk to me."
---
He told her about Axel.
About the stranger with the scar.
About Noctowl and Staraptor and Blaziken.
Patricia listened without interrupting, her hands still, her eyes steady. When he finished—when he told her about Monferno's evolution, about the fire that had consumed it, about the moment it had stood before Blaziken and refused to fall—she walked around the counter and wrapped her arms around him.
He let her.
"I'm proud of you," she said.
He closed his eyes.
"I know."
---
They ate dinner in the common room.
The food was good—simple, warm, filling—and for a while, the silence between them felt comfortable. Natural. The kind of silence that came from years of knowing someone, from shared battles and shared beds and shared dreams.
Infernape ate beside them, its flames dimmed to a gentle glow.
Lopunny sat with Patricia, its ears occasionally brushing against her shoulder.
"You know," Patricia said, "Dariana's been asking about you."
Briv looked up.
"Has she?"
"She wants to know if you're okay. After everything."
He set down his fork.
"I'm okay."
"Are you?"
He looked at her.
"Getting there."
---
After dinner, Patricia cleaned up while Briv took his team to the inn's small garden. The night air was cool against his skin, and the sky above Aethelburg was clear—a thousand stars scattered across black velvet, their light reflecting off the crystal towers in the distance.
Infernape stood beside him.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
---
The garden was small—a patch of grass, a few flowering shrubs, a stone bench that had seen better decades. Briv sat down, and Infernape settled beside him, its tail curling around its legs.
"You scared me," Briv said. "Earlier. When you evolved."
Infernape looked at him.
"I thought I was going to lose you."
Infernape pressed its head against his shoulder.
"But you didn't."
Infernape's fire burned steady.
"No. You didn't."
---
Footsteps on the path.
Briv turned.
Dariana walked toward him, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her tanned skin catching the starlight. She wore a loose tank top and shorts, and her feet were bare against the grass.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
She sat down on the bench—close but not too close—and looked at Infernape.
"Monferno evolved."
"Yeah."
"Into that?"
"Infernape."
She studied the Fire-type for a long moment.
"He's beautiful."
Briv nodded.
"He is."
---
They sat in silence for a while.
Dariana was the first to break it.
"I met someone today. A girl named Runo."
Briv looked at her.
"Runo Misaki?"
"You know her?"
"I've heard the name. She's friends with Patricia."
Dariana nodded.
"She challenged me to a battle."
Briv raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"And I accepted."
She stretched her arms over her head, her joints popping.
"Three-on-three. Tomorrow afternoon. Axel's refereeing."
Briv looked at her.
"You nervous?"
Dariana smiled.
"Always."
---
The next afternoon arrived with thunderclouds on the horizon.
They gathered at the training grounds—Briv and Patricia and Nicola, Samuel and Axel, a few scattered spectators who'd heard through the grapevine that something interesting was happening. The air was thick and humid, and the floodlights had been turned on despite the daylight, casting everything in a harsh, artificial glow.
Dariana stood at one end of the arena.
Runo Misaki stood at the other.
The girl was young—maybe nineteen, maybe twenty—with long sky-blue twin-tails and bright teal eyes that blazed with energy. She wore a yellow lace-up top, a frilled white skirt, and striped orange socks that clashed with everything but somehow worked anyway.
She bounced on her heels.
She was ready.
---
Axel stepped to the center.
"Three-on-three," he said. "No substitutions. Begin when I signal."
Dariana pulled her first ball.
Runo mirrored the motion.
The floodlights hummed.
"Begin."
---
"Glaceon."
The Fresh Snow Pokémon materialized in a shimmer of ice and snow, its pale blue fur gleaming, its dark eyes calm. It stood perfectly still, its tail swishing slowly, and the temperature around it dropped several degrees.
Runo grinned.
"Jumpluff."
The Cottonweed Pokémon appeared in a burst of pink and green, its cottony spores drifting through the air, its tiny body bobbing on the breeze. It was small—almost comically so—but Dariana knew better than to underestimate it.
"Jumpluff, Sunny Day."
The clouds above parted.
Sunlight poured down, warm and golden, and Dariana's eyes narrowed.
"Glaceon, Ice Beam."
Glaceon's mouth opened.
A beam of ice shot across the arena.
Jumpluff dodged.
It was fast—faster than Dariana had expected—and it spiraled through the air, spores trailing behind it like a veil of smoke.
"Leech Seed."
The seeds shot from Jumpluff's body, tiny and fast.
Glaceon tried to dodge.
One caught it on the flank.
Green energy pulsed along the seed, and Glaceon staggered as its vitality began to drain. The energy flowed back to Jumpluff, and the Cottonweed Pokémon's smile widened.
"Glaceon, Icy Wind."
The air around Glaceon stirred.
A freezing gust swept across the arena, and Jumpluff slowed, its movements sluggish, its spores freezing in the air. It dropped several inches, shaking itself, but the damage was done—its speed had been cut.
"Now. Blizzard."
Glaceon's eyes glowed.
The temperature plummeted.
A storm of ice and snow erupted from Glaceon's body, filling the arena with a screaming white wind. Jumpluff tried to dodge, but it couldn't—not with its speed halved, not with the wind buffeting it from every direction.
The storm consumed it.
When it cleared, Jumpluff lay on the ground, covered in frost.
It didn't move.
"Jumpluff is unable to battle," Axel said. "Glaceon wins."
---
Runo recalled Jumpluff.
She didn't look upset.
She looked excited.
"Espeon."
The Sun Pokémon materialized in a flash of pink and white, its fur gleaming like silk, its forked tail twitching. It had a red gem embedded in its forehead, and its eyes—its eyes were purple and sharp and full of intelligence.
"Espeon, Psychic."
The air rippled.
Glaceon froze.
Its body locked in place, its eyes wide, and Espeon's gem glowed brighter as it lifted the Ice-type off the ground.
"Glaceon, fight it!"
Glaceon struggled.
Espeon slammed it into the ground.
"Psychic."
Again.
Again.
Each impact drove the air from Glaceon's lungs, each one chipping away at its consciousness. It tried to fight back—tried to summon another Blizzard—but the psychic grip was too strong.
"Glaceon is unable to battle," Axel said. "Espeon wins."
---
Dariana recalled Glaceon.
She was calm.
She'd expected this. Espeon was a nightmare matchup for Glaceon—too fast, too precise, too psychic. She needed something that could endure. Something that could wait.
"Shellos."
The Sea Slug Pokémon materialized with a soft, wet sound, its blue-and-cream body glistening under the floodlights. Its antennae swayed gently, and its large, warm eyes blinked slowly.
"Espeon, Psychic."
The air rippled.
Shellos didn't fight it.
It let itself be lifted—let itself be slammed—but each time it hit the ground, it rose again. Its body was soft. Pliable. The impacts didn't break it. They didn't even hurt it.
"Espeon, Shadow Ball."
The sphere of darkness launched across the arena.
Shellos dodged.
It was slow—slower than Espeon—but it moved with the current of Espeon's attacks, flowing around them like water around stone.
"Mud Bomb."
Shellos's mouth opened.
A glob of mud shot forward.
Espeon dodged.
It was fast.
But Shellos didn't stop.
Another Mud Bomb. Another. Another. Each one forcing Espeon to move, to react, to keep dodging. And each dodge brought it closer to the arena's edge.
"Espeon, Psychic."
The air rippled.
Shellos froze.
But it didn't stop.
"Water Pulse."
Shellos's body pulsed.
A ring of water shot outward—not at Espeon, but around it. The water hit the ground and spread, turning the arena floor into a slick, muddy mess. Espeon lost its footing.
It stumbled.
"Now. Mud Bomb."
The mud caught Espeon in the face.
It screeched.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Espeon is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shellos wins."
---
Runo recalled Espeon.
She was still smiling.
"Ambipom."
---
The Long Tail Pokémon materialized with a chitter of excitement, its purple fur gleaming, its two tails waving like hands. It bounced from foot to foot, its large eyes darting between Shellos and Dariana, and it chattered.
"Ambipom, Swift."
The stars shot from Ambipom's mouth.
Shellos didn't dodge.
It took the hits.
They stung. They hurt. But Shellos endured.
"Mud Bomb."
Shellos's mouth opened.
Ambipom dodged.
It was fast—faster than Espeon had been—and it moved with a chaotic, unpredictable rhythm that made it hard to track. It bounced off the walls. It swung from the floodlights. It was everywhere at once.
"Shellos, stay calm."
Shellos stayed calm.
It watched.
It waited.
Ambipom dove.
"Double Hit."
The tails struck.
Shellos took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Water Pulse."
The water exploded outward.
Ambipom tried to dodge.
It was too close.
The water caught it across the face, and Ambipom spun backward, its tails flailing. It recovered quickly—but not quickly enough.
"Mud Bomb."
The mud caught it again.
Ambipom staggered.
Its tails dropped.
It didn't get up.
"Ambipom is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shellos wins. Dariana wins the match."
---
Silence.
The floodlights hummed.
Then the crowd—small as it was—erupted.
Patricia was cheering.
Nicola was clapping.
Samuel was whistling.
And Runo Misaki was walking toward Dariana with a grin that split her face.
"That was amazing," Runo said.
Dariana laughed.
"You're good."
"So are you."
They shook hands.
"You should come train with us sometime," Runo said. "Patricia's told me about you. You're strong."
Dariana glanced at Patricia.
Then back at Runo.
"I'd like that."
---
The crowd dispersed slowly.
Dariana stood alone on the arena, Shellos beside her, her eyes on the horizon. The thunderclouds were closer now—dark and heavy and full of rain—but she didn't move.
Briv walked up.
"Good battle."
She looked at him.
"Thanks."
"Nine wins now?"
She nodded.
"Nine."
He stood beside her.
They watched the clouds together.
"You know," he said, "the League's in twenty-four days."
She looked at him.
"I know."
"You ready?"
She smiled.
"Always."
---
The first drops of rain began to fall.
They didn't move.
They stood there—Briv and Dariana, Infernape and Shellos—and let the rain wash over them.
The city hummed around them.
The League was coming.
And they were ready.