Chapter 82: Nicola VS Julye - Again
The morning came gray and damp, mist curling off the canals like steam from a kettle, and Briv woke to the sound of rain tapping against the window.
Patricia was still asleep beside him, her blond hair spread across the pillow, her breathing slow and even. He watched her for a moment—the way her lips parted slightly, the way her fingers curled against the sheet—and felt something tighten in his chest.
He slipped out of bed without waking her.
The inn was quiet. He pulled on his clothes, grabbed his Pokéballs, and headed downstairs. The common room was empty except for Samuel, who sat in the corner with his guitar, plucking at the strings with lazy precision.
"Early," Samuel said.
"Couldn't sleep."
Samuel nodded.
"Happens."
Briv walked past him and out the door.
---
The streets of Aethelburg were slick with rain, the crystal towers reflecting gray light in every direction. He walked without purpose, letting his feet carry him through the winding alleys and across the floating bridges, past markets just beginning to stir and canals where Magikarp splashed in the shallows.
He ended up at the training grounds.
The field was empty—churned earth darkened by rain, scattered boulders glistening, shallow pools reflecting the sky. He stood at the edge and breathed in the wet air, feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to ease.
"You're up early."
He turned.
Axel stood behind him, arms crossed, Rotom flickering above his shoulder like a living ember. The man's green eyes were sharp despite the hour, and his expression held something that might have been curiosity.
"Couldn't sleep," Briv said.
Axel nodded.
"Happens before the League."
Briv didn't answer.
Axel walked past him onto the field, his boots squelching in the mud.
"You want to train?"
"I want to battle."
Axel stopped.
Turned.
"With who?"
Briv shrugged.
"Anyone."
Axel studied him for a long moment.
"There's a trainer over by the east gate. Been there since dawn. Looks like he's waiting for something."
Briv looked.
A figure stood at the edge of the grounds—tall, lean, dressed in dark clothes that seemed to absorb the gray light. He was too far away to make out clearly, but there was something about the way he stood—still, patient, watching—that made Briv's skin prickle.
"Who is he?"
"Don't know." Axel's voice was neutral. "But he's got three Pokéballs and a look I recognize."
"What look?"
"The look of someone who's been waiting a long time."
---
Briv approached the stranger.
Up close, the man was younger than he'd expected—maybe twenty-five, maybe younger—with sharp features and dark eyes that held a glint of something Briv couldn't name. His clothes were expensive but worn, and he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who'd earned it.
"You're Briv Ambertone," the stranger said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yeah."
"I'm Kael."
"Just Kael?"
"Just Kael."
Briv nodded.
"You want to battle?"
Kael smiled.
"I've been waiting for you to ask."
---
Axel stood at the referee's position, Rotom hovering above his shoulder.
"Three-on-three. No substitutions. Begin when I signal."
Kael drew his first ball.
Briv drew his.
"Banette."
"Grotle."
---
The two Pokémon materialized simultaneously.
Grotle landed with a heavy thud, mud splashing around its sturdy legs, the shrubs on its back trembling in the drizzle. It blinked slowly, its calm eyes fixed on the opponent across the field.
Banette hovered a few feet above the ground—a marionette doll with a zipper mouth and hollow eyes, its body held together by pins and spite. Its grin was fixed, unmoving, and its eyes burned with a cold, calculated malice.
"Begin."
Grotle moved first.
"Razor Leaf."
The leaves shot from Grotle's shell in a spinning arc, sharp and fast, cutting through the rain. Banette didn't dodge. It simply faded—its body becoming translucent, ghostly, letting the leaves pass through as if it were made of smoke.
"Shadow Ball."
The orb of darkness materialized in Banette's hands.
It flew.
Grotle tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The Shadow Ball caught it across the flank and sent it stumbling. Grotle roared in pain, its shell cracking, but it didn't fall.
"Curse."
Grotle's body tensed, its muscles coiling, its shell hardening. The shadows around it darkened, and its eyes gleamed with renewed intensity.
"Shadow Claw."
Banette lunged.
Its claws raked across Grotle's face.
Grotle staggered.
But it didn't fall.
"Seed Bomb."
The seeds erupted from Grotle's mouth in a concentrated burst. Banette tried to fade—tried to let the attack pass through—but the seeds were physical, solid, and they struck the ghost across its chest.
Banette shrieked.
It reeled backward, its body flickering.
"Razor Leaf."
The leaves shot forward again.
Banette raised its hands.
The barrier materialized—a shimmering shield of dark energy that absorbed the leaves and sent them scattering.
"Shadow Ball."
The orb of darkness flew.
Grotle took the hit.
It didn't fall.
It dug its feet deeper into the mud and shook off the darkness.
"Seed Bomb."
The seeds flew.
Banette tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The seeds exploded against its face, and Banette screamed—a sound like tearing cloth—and its body began to dissolve, the zipper mouth ripping open, the pins falling away.
It didn't get up.
"Banette is unable to battle," Axel said. "Grotle wins."
---
Kael recalled Banette.
He didn't look upset.
He looked interested.
"Dratini."
---
The Dragon-type materialized in a flash of blue and white, its serpentine body coiling in the air. It was small—barely four feet from nose to tail—but its eyes held the ancient, patient wisdom of its kind.
"Begin."
Grotle moved first.
"Razor Leaf."
Dratini didn't dodge.
It moved.
The leaves passed through empty air.
"Thunder Wave."
The wave of electricity shot from Dratini's body.
Grotle tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The paralysis seized its muscles, locking its legs in place, and Grotle roared in frustration as it struggled to move.
"Dragon Rage."
The blue flames erupted from Dratini's mouth.
Grotle took the hit point-blank.
It didn't fall.
But it was close.
"Seed Bomb."
Grotle's attack was slow—too slow—and Dratini dodged easily, coiling through the air like a ribbon.
"Dragon Rage."
The flames struck again.
Grotle fell.
It didn't get up.
"Grotle is unable to battle," Axel said. "Dratini wins."
---
Briv recalled Grotle.
He looked at the ball in his hand—the cracked shell, the fading warmth—and felt something tighten in his chest.
"Luxio."
---
The Electric-type burst onto the field with a snarl, its blue-and-black fur crackling with static, its yellow eyes fixed on Dratini with predatory intensity. It didn't wait for instruction. It circled, tail lashing, muscles coiled.
"Begin."
Luxio moved first.
"Spark."
The electricity surged through Luxio's body.
It lunged.
Dratini tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The attack caught it across the flank, and Dratini screamed—a high, keening sound—as the electricity coursed through its serpentine body.
"Thunder Wave."
The wave of electricity shot from Dratini's body.
Luxio dodged.
It was fast—faster than Grotle, faster than anything Dratini had faced—and it closed the distance in seconds.
"Bite."
Luxio's jaws clamped around Dratini's tail.
Dratini thrashed.
"Twister."
The whirlwind erupted from Dratini's body.
Luxio was thrown backward, tumbling across the mud, but it scrambled to its feet before Dratini could follow up.
"Spark."
Luxio lunged again.
Dratini dodged.
Barely.
"Thunder Wave."
The electricity caught Luxio across the legs.
Luxio stumbled.
But it didn't fall.
It had taken worse. It had survived worse.
"Spark."
Luxio's body crackled with electricity.
It lunged.
Dratini tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The attack caught it mid-coil, and Dratini screamed as the electricity surged through its body. It fell from the air, hitting the mud with a wet thud, and didn't move.
"Dratini is unable to battle," Axel said. "Luxio wins."
---
Kael recalled Dratini.
He looked at Luxio.
Then at Briv.
"You're good."
Briv didn't answer.
He was watching Luxio—watching the way its legs trembled, the way its breath came in shallow gasps, the way its eyes still blazed with defiance.
"Absol."
---
The Disaster Pokémon materialized in a flash of white and black, its sleek body gleaming in the rain, its crescent-shaped horn curving from the side of its head. It didn't move. It didn't need to. It simply stood there, radiating quiet menace, and waited.
Luxio snarled.
Absol didn't react.
"Begin."
Luxio moved first.
"Spark."
The electricity surged.
It lunged.
Absol stepped aside.
Luxio barreled past, its momentum carrying it forward, and Absol's claw connected with its flank in a precise, surgical strike.
Luxio stumbled.
"Night Slash."
The dark energy materialized around Absol's horn.
It struck.
Luxio screamed.
It fell.
It tried to rise—tried to push itself up—but its legs wouldn't cooperate. It collapsed, breathing hard, its eyes glazed.
It didn't get up.
"Luxio is unable to battle," Axel said. "Absol wins."
---
Briv recalled Luxio.
His hand trembled.
He looked at the ball—the small, warm sphere that held his fierce, proud, impossible little fighter—and felt something crack in his chest.
"You did good," he whispered. "You did so good."
He clipped the ball to his belt.
He drew his final Pokémon.
"Gible."
---
The small Dragon-type burst onto the field with a shriek of excitement, its red belly gleaming, its tiny legs pumping as it sprinted in a tight circle. It stopped, turned, and faced Absol with its mouth wide open, displaying rows of sharp teeth.
Absol didn't look impressed.
"Begin."
Gible moved first.
"Dragon Rage."
The blue flames erupted from Gible's mouth.
Absol dodged.
It was fast—faster than Banette, faster than Dratini, faster than anything Briv had expected—and it closed the distance in seconds.
"Night Slash."
The dark energy materialized around Absol's horn.
Gible ducked.
It was a clumsy dodge—more instinct than skill—but it worked. Gible rolled under the attack, scrambled to its feet, and bit down on Absol's leg.
Absol roared.
"Psycho Cut."
The psychic blade materialized.
It struck Gible across the back.
Gible screamed.
But it didn't let go.
"Dragon Rage."
The flames erupted point-blank.
Absol staggered backward, its fur smoking, its eyes wide with something that might have been surprise.
Gible dropped to the ground, panting, its small body trembling.
"Now. Bite."
Gible lunged.
Its teeth sank into Absol's throat.
Absol thrashed.
Gible held on.
"Night Slash."
The dark energy materialized.
It struck Gible across the side.
Gible held on.
"Psycho Cut."
The psychic blade struck again.
Gible held on.
Its teeth were buried deep, its eyes squeezed shut, its body trembling with the effort of staying conscious.
Absol's thrashing slowed.
Its legs buckled.
It fell.
Gible let go and stumbled backward, blood dripping from its mouth, its body covered in cuts and bruises.
"Absol is unable to battle," Axel said. "Gible wins. Briv wins the match."
---
Silence.
Then applause.
Briv didn't hear it.
He was kneeling beside Gible, his hands hovering over the small dragon's body, afraid to touch, afraid to hurt.
"You did good," he whispered. "You did so good."
Gible's eyes fluttered open.
It looked at him.
It smiled.
---
Kael approached.
He extended his hand.
"That was a good battle."
Briv shook it.
"Thanks."
Kael looked at Gible.
"That Gible of yours. It's got heart."
Briv nodded.
"I know."
Kael turned and walked away, his Pokéballs clinking at his belt.
---
Axel walked up.
He didn't say anything.
He just looked at Gible, at the blood, at the way Briv's hands trembled.
"You should get it to a Center," he said.
Briv nodded.
He gathered Gible in his arms and stood.
---
The walk to the Pokémon Center was a blur.
Patricia found him there, sitting in the waiting room, his hands still stained with blood.
"What happened?"
"Practice battle."
"With who?"
"A stranger."
She sat down beside him.
"Gible?"
"It's going to be okay."
She took his hand.
"You're shaking."
He looked at her.
"I know."
---
They sat in silence.
The minutes stretched.
And somewhere in the city, the Eclipse Squad was watching.
Revan stood on a rooftop across from the Center, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the windows, his Eclipse Squad emblem gleaming.
"Gible's injured," Roger said. "He's vulnerable."
"No." Revan smiled. "He's angry. There's a difference."
Callum cracked his knuckles.
"So what's the plan?"
Revan turned.
"We wait. We watch. And when the moment comes—" He paused. "We take everything from him."
The rain swallowed them whole.
=====
The rain swallowed them whole.
---
Nicola stood at the edge of the training grounds, water dripping from the ends of her hair, soaking through her jacket, running in thin rivers down the back of her neck. She didn't move. She didn't wipe it away. She just watched the field—the churned mud, the scattered stones, the shallow pools that rippled with every drop.
She'd lost to Julye three weeks ago.
The memory sat in her chest like a stone. Not the loss itself—losses happened, losses were part of it—but the way it had happened. Julye's Omastar had dismantled her team with surgical precision, and Nicola had spent the entire battle reacting instead of acting.
She'd replayed it a hundred times.
Every command. Every mistake. Every moment she should have seen coming but didn't.
Footsteps squelched behind her.
She didn't turn.
"You're up early," Dariana said.
"I never went to sleep."
Dariana stepped up beside her, pulling her jacket tighter against the rain. Her dark hair was plastered to her skull, and her eyes—those sharp, clever eyes—studied Nicola's face with quiet understanding.
"You're thinking about Julye."
"I'm always thinking about Julye."
"Not healthy."
"Don't care."
Dariana didn't argue.
They stood in silence, watching the rain fall, and Nicola felt the weight of the past three weeks pressing down on her shoulders.
"She's here," Dariana said.
Nicola turned.
Julye walked across the training grounds with the easy confidence of someone who had nothing to prove. She was tall—nearly six feet—with broad shoulders and sun-bronzed skin, her dark hair cropped short, her eyes the color of storm clouds. She wore practical clothes and carried herself with the quiet authority of a veteran.
She stopped ten feet away.
"Sunfall."
"Julye."
The rain fell between them.
"You want a rematch," Julye said.
It wasn't a question.
"Three-on-three," Nicola said. "Same rules as last time."
Julye studied her for a long moment.
"Why?"
"Because I need to know."
"Know what?"
Nicola didn't answer.
Julye nodded slowly.
"Alright."
She turned and walked toward the center of the field.
---
Axel appeared as if he'd been waiting in the wings, Rotom flickering above his shoulder like a living flame. He didn't ask questions. He walked to the referee's position, crossed his arms, and waited.
"Three-on-three. No substitutions. Begin when I signal."
Julye drew her first ball.
Nicola drew hers.
"Omastar."
"Snover."
---
The two Pokémon materialized simultaneously.
Snover landed with a soft thud, its white body gleaming in the rain, its pointed, snow-covered appearance almost invisible against the gray sky. It blinked slowly, its calm eyes fixed on the opponent across the field.
Omastar stood across from it—a spiral shell with tentacles and sharp, intelligent eyes, water dripping from its ridged surface. It didn't move. It didn't need to. It simply existed, radiating quiet menace, and waited.
"Begin."
Snover moved first.
"Ice Shard."
The shards of ice shot from Snover's mouth in a wide arc.
Omastar didn't dodge.
It withdrew into its shell.
The ice shattered against the spiral surface and fell away.
"Water Pulse."
The ring of water shot from Omastar's mouth.
Snover took the hit.
It stumbled.
But it didn't fall.
"Razor Leaf."
The leaves shot from Snover's body.
Omastar emerged from its shell.
"Ancient Power."
The rocks erupted from the ground.
Snover dodged.
Barely.
"Water Pulse."
The ring of water caught Snover across the legs.
Snover staggered.
"Razor Leaf."
The leaves shot forward again.
Omastar withdrew.
The leaves shattered against its shell.
"Ice Shard."
The ice shot from Snover's mouth.
Omastar emerged.
"Ancient Power."
The rocks erupted.
Snover tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The rocks struck it across the body and sent it tumbling. Snover hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and didn't get up.
"Snover is unable to battle," Axel said. "Omastar wins."
---
Nicola recalled Snover.
Her hand was steady.
"Staravia."
---
The Flying-type burst onto the field with a shriek, its gray-and-white plumage gleaming in the rain, its sharp crest slicked back, its determined eyes fixed on Omastar with predatory intensity. It circled once, twice, then settled into a hover, wings beating against the downpour.
"Begin."
Staravia moved first.
"Wing Attack."
The wings sliced through the air.
Omastar withdrew.
The attack glanced off its shell and sent it skidding across the mud.
"Water Pulse."
The ring of water shot from Omastar's mouth.
Staravia dodged.
It was fast—faster than Snover, faster than anything Omastar had faced—and it closed the distance in seconds.
"Quick Attack."
Staravia slammed into Omastar's shell.
Omastar reeled.
"Ancient Power."
The rocks erupted from the ground.
Staravia dodged.
Barely.
"Wing Attack."
The wings sliced through the air.
Omastar withdrew.
The attack glanced off its shell.
"Water Pulse."
The ring of water caught Staravia across the wing.
Staravia faltered.
But it didn't fall.
"Quick Attack."
Staravia slammed into Omastar again.
Omastar staggered.
"Ancient Power."
The rocks erupted.
Staravia dodged.
It was faster this time—more precise—and it closed the distance before Omastar could react.
"Wing Attack."
The wings sliced through the air.
Omastar tried to withdraw.
It was too slow.
The attack caught it across the exposed tentacles, and Omastar screamed—a high, keening sound—as it reeled backward, its shell cracking, its eyes wide with pain.
"Water Pulse."
The ring of water shot wild.
Staravia dodged.
"Quick Attack."
Staravia slammed into Omastar's shell.
Omastar fell.
It tried to rise—tried to push itself up—but its tentacles wouldn't cooperate. It collapsed, breathing hard, its eyes glazed.
It didn't get up.
"Omastar is unable to battle," Axel said. "Staravia wins."
---
Julye recalled Omastar.
She didn't look upset.
She looked interested.
"Probopass."
---
The Compass Pokémon materialized in a flash of gray and red, its massive body hovering above the ground, its three subsidiary units orbiting around it like moons around a planet. It was huge—easily five feet tall—and its eyes held the cold, calculating intelligence of something that had never lost a battle.
Staravia shrieked.
Probopass didn't react.
"Begin."
Staravia moved first.
"Wing Attack."
The wings sliced through the air.
Probopass didn't dodge.
The attack glanced off its metallic body and sent Staravia tumbling backward.
"Flash Cannon."
The beam of light shot from Probopass's body.
Staravia dodged.
Barely.
"Quick Attack."
Staravia slammed into Probopass's body.
Probopass didn't move.
"Thunder Wave."
The wave of electricity shot from Probopass's body.
Staravia tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The paralysis seized its muscles, locking its wings in place, and Staravia screamed as it fell from the air, hitting the mud with a wet thud.
"Wing Attack."
Staravia struggled to move.
Its wings wouldn't cooperate.
"Flash Cannon."
The beam of light shot from Probopass's body.
Staravia took the hit point-blank.
It didn't get up.
"Staravia is unable to battle," Axel said. "Probopass wins."
---
Nicola recalled Staravia.
She looked at the ball in her hand—the trembling wings, the fading warmth—and felt something tighten in her chest.
"Shieldon."
---
The Shield Pokémon materialized with a ground-shaking thud, its blue body gleaming, its broad gray facial shield pointed at Probopass like a battering ram. It didn't wait for instruction. It didn't hesitate.
It charged.
"Take Down."
The attack connected before Julye could call a command.
Probopass flew backward—ten feet, maybe more—and hit the ground with a crash that shook the arena.
It tried to rise.
Shieldon didn't give it the chance.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon's skull gleamed silver.
It struck.
Probopass reeled.
"Flash Cannon."
The beam of light shot from Probopass's body.
Shieldon took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon struck again.
Probopass staggered.
"Thunder Wave."
The wave of electricity shot from Probopass's body.
Shieldon tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The paralysis seized its muscles, locking its legs in place, and Shieldon roared in frustration as it struggled to move.
"Flash Cannon."
The beam of light shot from Probopass's body.
Shieldon took the hit point-blank.
It didn't fall.
"Earth Power."
The ground erupted beneath Shieldon's feet.
Shieldon roared.
But it didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon's skull gleamed silver.
It struck.
Probopass reeled.
"Flash Cannon."
The beam of light shot from Probopass's body.
Shieldon took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon struck again.
Probopass staggered.
"Thunder Wave."
The wave of electricity shot from Probopass's body.
Shieldon shuddered.
But it didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon struck again.
Probopass fell.
It tried to rise—tried to push itself up—but its body wouldn't cooperate. It collapsed, breathing hard, its eyes glazed.
It didn't get up.
"Probopass is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shieldon wins."
---
Julye recalled Probopass.
She looked at Shieldon.
Then at Nicola.
"You're better than last time."
Nicola didn't answer.
She was watching Shieldon—watching the way its legs trembled, the way its breath came in shallow gasps, the way its eyes still blazed with defiance.
"Rhydon."
---
The Drill Pokémon materialized with a ground-shaking thud, its rocky hide gleaming in the rain, its single horn pointed at Shieldon like a spear. It was massive—easily six feet from nose to tail—and its small eyes burned with a dull, patient anger.
Shieldon looked at it.
Shieldon looked back at Nicola.
Nicola nodded.
Shieldon turned and faced Rhydon.
"Begin."
Rhydon moved first.
"Rock Blast."
The boulders shot from Rhydon's mouth in rapid succession.
Shieldon didn't dodge.
It couldn't.
The paralysis held it in place, and the boulders struck it across the body, cracking its hide, forcing it to its knees.
"Shieldon, hold on!"
Shieldon's eyes snapped open.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon's skull gleamed silver.
It lunged.
Rhydon tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The attack caught it across the flank, and Rhydon roared as it staggered backward, its rocky hide cracking.
"Take Down."
Rhydon charged.
Shieldon took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon struck again.
Rhydon reeled.
"Rock Blast."
The boulders shot from Rhydon's mouth.
Shieldon took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon struck again.
Rhydon staggered.
"Earthquake."
The ground erupted beneath Shieldon's feet.
Shieldon roared.
But it didn't fall.
"Iron Head."
Shieldon struck again.
Rhydon fell.
It tried to rise—tried to push itself up—but its legs wouldn't cooperate. It collapsed, breathing hard, its eyes glazed.
It didn't get up.
"Rhydon is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shieldon wins. Nicola wins the match."
---
Silence.
Then applause.
Nicola didn't hear it.
She was kneeling beside Shieldon, her hands hovering over the small Pokémon's body, afraid to touch, afraid to hurt.
"You did good," she whispered. "You did so good."
Shieldon's eyes fluttered open.
It looked at her.
It smiled.
---
Julye approached.
She extended her hand.
"That was a good battle."
Nicola shook it.
"Thanks."
Julye looked at Shieldon.
"That Shieldon of yours. It's got guts."
Nicola nodded.
"I know."
Julye turned and walked away, her Pokéballs clinking at her belt.
---
Axel walked up.
He didn't say anything.
He just looked at Shieldon, at the blood, at the way Nicola's hands trembled.
"You should get it to a Center," he said.
Nicola nodded.
She gathered Shieldon in her arms and stood.
---
The walk to the Pokémon Center was a blur.
Dariana found her there, sitting in the waiting room, her hands still stained with blood.
"What happened?"
"Practice battle."
"With who?"
"Julye."
Dariana sat down beside her.
"Shieldon?"
"It's going to be okay."
Dariana took her hand.
"You're shaking."
Nicola looked at her.
"I know."
---
They sat in silence.
The minutes stretched.
And somewhere in the city, the Eclipse Squad was watching.
Revan stood on a rooftop across from the Center, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the windows, his Eclipse Squad emblem gleaming.
"Shieldon's injured," Roger said. "She's vulnerable."
"No." Revan smiled. "She's angry. There's a difference."
Callum cracked his knuckles.
"So what's the plan?"
Revan turned.
"We wait. We watch. And when the moment comes—" He paused. "We take everything from her."
The rain swallowed them whole.
---
Nicola sat in the waiting room, Shieldon's Pokéball clutched in her hands, the rain tapping against the windows like fingers on glass. Dariana had gone to get coffee. The room was empty except for a nurse at the front desk and a television playing muted news in the corner.
She thought about the battle.
She thought about Omastar, about Probopass, about Rhydon. She thought about the way Shieldon had taken hit after hit and kept getting up. She thought about the way it had looked at her—trusting, determined, unafraid.
She thought about the way she'd almost lost.
The nurse called her name.
She stood.
---
Shieldon was going to be fine.
The nurse said it would need rest, maybe a day or two, but there was no permanent damage. Nicola nodded, signed the forms, and walked out into the rain.
Dariana was waiting.
"Coffee?"
Nicola took it.
"Thanks."
They walked in silence.
The streets were empty, the canals dark, the crystal towers dim behind the clouds. Somewhere in the distance, a train horn sounded, and Nicola felt the city breathe around her—alive, indifferent, immense.
"Nine wins," Dariana said.
"Yeah."
"Two more and you're qualified."
"I know."
Dariana looked at her.
"You're not happy."
Nicola didn't answer.
They walked another block.
"I should be," Nicola said finally. "I should be happy. But I'm not."
"Why?"
"Because it's not enough."
Dariana stopped.
"What do you mean?"
Nicola turned to face her.
"Winning isn't enough. Beating Julye isn't enough. I need to be better. I need to be faster. I need to be—" She stopped. "I need to be ready."
"For what?"
"For the League."
Dariana studied her face.
"You're scared."
"No."
"You're lying."
Nicola looked away.
"I'm not scared. I'm—" She paused. "I'm aware. Of everything that could go wrong. Of everyone who's better than me. Of everyone who's waiting for me to fail."
Dariana took her hand.
"You're not going to fail."
"You don't know that."
"I know you."
Nicola looked at her.
Dariana smiled.
"Come on. Let's get out of the rain."
---
They found a small café tucked between two crystal towers, its windows fogged with steam, its interior warm and dim. They ordered tea and sat in the corner, and Nicola felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease.
"You should talk to Briv," Dariana said.
"Why?"
"Because he knows what you're going through."
Nicola stirred her tea.
"He's qualified. He's already won. He doesn't know what it's like to still be fighting."
Dariana raised an eyebrow.
"Are you serious?"
Nicola didn't answer.
"He lost three matches last year," Dariana said. "He fought his way through the qualifiers just like you. He knows exactly what it's like."
Nicola looked at her.
"I know."
"So talk to him."
Nicola sighed.
"Maybe."
Dariana sipped her tea.
"Not maybe. Do it."
---
Later that evening, Nicola found Briv on the roof of the inn.
He was sitting alone, Infernape beside him, the city spread out below like a circuit board of light and shadow. He didn't turn when she climbed up, didn't speak when she sat down beside him.
They stayed like that for a while.
"I won today," she said.
"I heard."
"Nine wins."
"Two more."
"Yeah."
He looked at her.
"You don't sound happy."
She didn't answer.
He waited.
"I'm not," she said finally.
"Why?"
"Because it doesn't feel like enough."
He nodded slowly.
"I know the feeling."
She looked at him.
"You do?"
"Last year, after I won the League—" He paused. "I thought I'd feel different. I thought I'd feel like I'd finally made it. But I didn't. I just felt—" He searched for the word. "Empty."
She didn't answer.
"It took me a long time to figure out why," he said. "And I think it's because I was measuring myself against the wrong things."
"What do you mean?"
He looked at the city.
"I was measuring myself against other people. Against their expectations. Against what I thought I was supposed to be." He paused. "But that's not how it works. You can't win enough to feel whole. You have to find something else."
She looked at him.
"What else?"
He smiled.
"That's the part I'm still figuring out."
---
They sat in silence.
The city hummed below them.
And somewhere in the dark, the Eclipse Squad was watching.
Revan stood on a rooftop across from the inn, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the two figures silhouetted against the sky.
"Sunfall won today," Roger said.
"I know."
"She's getting stronger."
"I know."
Callum cracked his knuckles.
"So what do we do?"
Revan turned.
"We wait. We watch. And when the moment comes—" He paused. "We take everything from them."
The night swallowed him whole.
---
Nicola stood.
"I should go."
Briv looked up.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
"Yeah."
She turned to leave.
"Nicola."
She stopped.
He looked at her.
"You're going to qualify. You're going to make it to the League. And when you do—" He paused. "You're going to be incredible."
She looked at him.
"You think so?"
"I know so."
She smiled.
"Thanks."
She climbed down from the roof and disappeared into the night.
Briv watched her go.
Infernape stirred beside him.
"Yeah," Briv murmured. "I know."
The city hummed below them.
And somewhere in the dark, the Eclipse Squad was waiting.