Chapter 85: Nicola VS Lucas
(DO AS I SAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO. WHAT. I. SAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
The warehouse was empty.
Dust motes floated through shafts of pale light that cut through shattered windows. The place smelled like rust and old oil and something faintly chemical—the ghost of whatever had been stored here before the city abandoned it.
Patricia found a corner and sat down.
Floatzel curled beside her, its body warm, its breathing steady. The evolution had taken more out of it than either of them had realized. It needed rest.
The civilians huddled together in the center of the warehouse floor. Nurse Joy moved between them, checking injuries, offering water, murmuring comfort. Her Blissey worked alongside her, its soft pink body glowing faintly in the dim light.
Briv stood by the door.
He hadn't moved in ten minutes.
---
"You should sit down," Nicola said.
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
Briv touched his forehead. His fingers came away red.
"It's nothing."
"It's a cut. You need to clean it."
"I'll clean it later."
Nicola grabbed his arm.
"Now."
---
She pulled him to the corner where Patricia sat. Dariana appeared with a first aid kit—she'd found it in one of the warehouse's storage lockers, along with a handful of old blankets that she was distributing to the civilians.
"Sit," Nicola said.
Briv sat.
Patricia took the kit from Dariana.
"I've got this."
Nicola nodded and stepped back.
Patricia cleaned the wound. It wasn't deep—just a gash above his eyebrow where a piece of debris had caught him during the escape. She applied antiseptic, then a butterfly bandage, her movements quick and practiced.
"You're good at this," Briv said.
"I've had practice."
"From what?"
"From you."
She pressed the bandage down a little harder than necessary.
"Ow."
"You'll live."
---
Samuel was sitting against the wall, his guitar cradled in his lap. He wasn't playing—just holding it, his fingers resting on the strings. Ambipom sat beside him, its tails wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf.
Sudowoodo stood watch near the back door.
Nosepass hummed quietly in the corner.
Doduo paced.
Hippopotas was asleep.
Carnivine had wrapped itself around a support beam near the ceiling, its tendrils dangling.
They were all accounted for.
They were all alive.
---
Dariana sat down next to Samuel.
"You okay?"
"I'm always okay."
"That's not an answer."
Samuel looked at her.
"Then no. I'm not okay. I'm scared. I'm tired. And I'm pretty sure the Eclipse Squad is going to find us before the night is over."
Dariana didn't argue.
She just leaned her head against his shoulder.
---
The plan formed slowly.
They couldn't stay in the warehouse forever. The Eclipse Squad would search the district eventually—it was just a matter of time. And when they did, the civilians would be trapped.
So they needed to move.
"My place," Dariana said. "It's in the eastern district. Residential. Low profile. No one knows about it except you guys."
"Your place?" Briv asked.
"I bought it two years ago. Kept it off the grid. No one knows I own it."
"How?"
"Friends in low places."
Nicola snorted.
"We've got to get across the city," Briv said. "That's three districts. Through Eclipse Squad territory."
"Not if we go through the old aqueducts."
"Those are sealed."
"Not all of them."
---
They moved at midnight.
The aqueduct entrance was hidden beneath a collapsed building—a maintenance hatch that Dariana had used before to move discreetly between districts. It took them twenty minutes to clear the debris. Another ten to get the civilians down the ladder.
The tunnel was dark, wet, and cold.
The water ran ankle-deep along the floor—not clean, but not toxic. Old runoff from the city's upper reservoirs.
They walked for an hour.
No one spoke.
---
The eastern district was quiet when they emerged.
Dariana's place was a modest brownstone on a quiet street. Three floors, no frills, the kind of building that didn't attract attention.
She let them in.
The civilians settled into the living room. Nurse Joy continued her work, treating injuries, calming nerves. The Pokémon found spots to rest—some on the floor, some on the furniture, some curled up beside their trainers.
Briv collapsed onto the couch.
Patricia sat beside him.
Nicola took the armchair.
Dariana made tea.
Samuel fell asleep against the wall, his guitar still in his lap.
---
They slept.
For a few hours, the world was quiet.
---
Morning came gray and cold.
Briv woke first.
He found Dariana in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her hair a mess, her clothes still covered in soot.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
"I slept a little."
"Bullshit."
She smiled.
"Maybe."
He poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Any word from the outside?"
"Comms are down. Eclipse Squad jammed the city's network."
"Of course they did."
"But I've got a shortwave in the basement. Managed to get a signal out before they blocked everything."
Briv froze.
"What kind of signal?"
"I contacted the League office. Told them what happened."
"What did they say?"
Dariana paused.
"They're sending someone."
---
The someone arrived four hours later.
A tall man with medium-length messy chestnut hair and sharp green eyes. He wore a long gray coat over a black turtleneck, and he carried himself with a quiet authority that made everyone in the room sit up straighter.
Behind him trailed a small, flickering orange shape—a Rotom, darting through the air like a piece of living lightning.
"Axel," Briv said.
"Briv."
They shook hands.
"I heard you've had a rough night."
"Rough doesn't cover it."
Axel glanced around the room. His eyes passed over the civilians, the trainers, the Pokémon. He took it all in without expression.
"Eclipse Squad attacked the western district," he said. "Burned half of it to the ground. Casualties are still being counted, but so far—no deaths."
"That's something," Patricia said.
"That's luck."
He turned to face them all.
"I've been tracking Eclipse Squad for six months. This is the first time they've gone public. Which means either they've gotten bold, or they're desperate."
"Which do you think?" Nicola asked.
Axel looked at her.
"Both. They're making a statement. And they're running out of time."
---
He explained the situation.
The League had been monitoring Eclipse Squad activity for months—small-scale operations, thefts, espionage, but nothing like this. Nothing that suggested they'd be willing to burn a city district in broad daylight.
"This attack wasn't random," Axel said. "It was a test. They wanted to see how the League would respond. How fast. How hard."
"And?" Briv asked.
"And we responded slowly. The city's defenders were overwhelmed. By the time reinforcements arrived, the Eclipse Squad was gone."
"So what do we do?"
"We fight back. But not here. Not now."
He looked at Nicola.
"You have a battle today."
---
Nicola blinked.
"What?"
"Your League challenge. The one you scheduled three weeks ago."
"That's still happening?"
"Everything's still happening. The League doesn't stop for terrorists."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small device—a League-issued communicator, sleek and silver.
"Your match is in two hours. Against Lucas Noblewarm."
Nicola's blood ran cold.
"Lucas?"
"You know him?"
"Everyone knows him."
"Then you know what you're up against."
---
Dariana stepped forward.
"She can't fight. Not after last night."
"She has to."
"Bullshit. She's exhausted. Her Pokémon are exhausted."
Axel's eyes were cold.
"If she doesn't fight, she forfeits. And if she forfeits, she loses her League qualification."
Silence.
Nicola stared at the floor.
---
"She's right," Nicola said.
Everyone turned.
"I have to fight. If I don't, everything I've worked for—everything we've worked for—it's gone."
"But—" Patricia started.
"I know. I know I'm tired. I know my Pokémon are tired. But I can't quit. Not now."
She looked at Axel.
"Where's the match?"
"Arena in the northern district. Neutral ground. I'll be the referee."
"You?"
"I'm a certified League official. It's within my jurisdiction."
Nicola nodded.
"Then let's go."
---
The arena was a rooftop.
A flat, open space atop one of Aethelburg's older buildings, surrounded by low walls and ringed with harsh fluorescent lights. The morning sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, and the air was cold.
Lucas Noblewarm stood at the far end.
He was tall and lean, with long silver hair tied back in a loose ponytail. His dark blue eyes were calm, almost bored. He wore a plain black coat and carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew how the match would end.
Three Pokéballs sat on his belt.
Nicola took her place opposite him.
Axel stood between them.
---
"This is a sanctioned League challenge," Axel said. "Three-on-three. No items. No substitutions except by knockout. Victory by elimination of all opposing Pokémon. Are both trainers ready?"
"Ready," Lucas said.
Nicola took a breath.
"Ready."
"Then begin."
---
Lucas sent out his first Pokémon.
Toxicroak.
The Poison- and Fighting-type materialized in a crouch—its blue body low to the ground, its orange throat sac pulsing, its red eyes gleaming. Its fists clenched.
Nicola responded.
Magnemite.
The small Electric-type hummed as it emerged, its magnets spinning lazily, its single blue eye fixed on its opponent.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Lucas moved first.
"Toxicroak. Vacuum Wave."
Toxicroak blurred forward, its fist already cocked. A pulse of compressed air shot from its palm—fast, sharp, impossible to dodge.
Magnemite took the hit.
It rocked backward, sparks flying from its casing. But it held.
"Thunder Wave," Nicola commanded.
Magnemite released a wave of electricity. Toxicroak twisted mid-air, avoiding the worst of it, but its left leg seized up. Paralysis was spreading.
"Cross Chop," Lucas said.
Toxicroak lunged.
Its paralyzed leg buckled, throwing off its aim.
Magnemite dodged.
"Flash Cannon."
The steel-type attack slammed into Toxicroak's chest. The Poison-type staggered but didn't fall.
"Now," Nicola said. "Thunderbolt."
Magnemite fired.
Toxicroak took the full blast.
It collapsed.
"Toxicroak is unable to battle," Axel said. "Magnemite wins."
---
Lucas recalled his Pokémon without expression.
He didn't look concerned.
If anything, he looked amused.
"Not bad," he said. "But let's see how you handle this."
He sent out his second Pokémon.
Kabutops.
The Rock- and Water-type rose from its ball with a sound like grinding stone. Its scythes gleamed in the fluorescent light. Its shell was scarred, battered, ancient. Its eyes burned.
Nicola swallowed.
"Magnemite. Stay sharp."
Magnemite hummed.
"Kabutops," Lucas said. "Aqua Jet."
Kabutops disappeared.
It reappeared in front of Magnemite.
Its scythes swung.
Magnemite flew across the rooftop. It hit the ground, rolled, struggled to rise. Its casing was cracked.
"Magnemite is unable to battle," Axel said. "Kabutops wins."
---
Nicola recalled Magnemite.
Her hands were shaking.
Staravia.
The Flying-type burst from its ball with a fierce cry, its wings spread wide, its eyes locked on Kabutops.
"Staravia," Nicola said. "Quick Attack."
Staravia dove.
Kabutops moved.
It was faster than it had any right to be—its ancient body moving with terrible precision, its scythes cutting through the air where Staravia had been a split second before.
"Air Cutter," Nicola said.
Staravia banked.
It snapped its wings.
Two blades of compressed air shot toward Kabutops.
The Rock-type took the hit on its shell. Cracks spread through the stone. But it didn't fall.
"Rock Slide," Lucas said.
Kabutops raised its scythes.
The rooftop shuddered.
Rocks erupted from below—jagged, sharp, deadly. Staravia tried to dodge, but there were too many. A boulder clipped its wing. It spiraled.
"Now," Lucas said. "Stone Edge."
Kabutops lunged.
Its scythe caught Staravia mid-air.
The Flying-type crashed to the ground.
It didn't get up.
"Staravia is unable to battle," Axel said. "Kabutops wins."
---
Nicola's chest tightened.
She had one Pokémon left.
Skorupi.
The Poison- and Bug-type emerged quietly—its purple armor gleaming, its pincers snapping, its eyes fixed on its opponent.
It was the smallest Pokémon on the field.
It was also the most determined.
"Skorupi," Nicola said. "You know what to do."
Skorupi nodded.
"Kabutops," Lucas said. "End this."
Kabutops lunged.
Skorupi moved.
It was faster than it looked—its small body darting between the rocks, avoiding the scythes, closing the distance. Kabutops swung. Skorupi ducked.
It struck.
Its pincers caught Kabutops's leg.
Poison flooded into the Rock-type's system.
Kabutops stumbled.
"Pin Missile," Nicola said.
Skorupi fired.
A barrage of sharpened spikes tore into Kabutops's shell. The Rock-type roared. It swung its scythes wildly—desperate, enraged—but the poison was already slowing it down.
"Cross Poison," Nicola said.
Skorupi's pincers glowed purple.
It struck again.
Kabutops collapsed.
"Kabutops is unable to battle," Axel said. "Skorupi wins."
---
Lucas recalled his Pokémon.
He was smiling now.
"Impressive," he said. "Truly. You've trained your team well."
"Save it," Nicola said.
"Very well."
He drew his final Pokéball.
"Metagross."
---
The light that erupted was blinding.
Metagross rose from the flash like a god emerging from the void—a massive quadruped of steel and shadow, its four brains gleaming with cold intelligence. Its eyes burned red.
Skorupi didn't flinch.
"Skorupi," Nicola said. "You can do this."
Skorupi nodded.
"Metagross," Lucas said. "Meteor Mash."
Metagross moved.
It didn't rush. It didn't need to. Its massive body glided forward with terrifying grace, its front leg raised, already glowing.
Skorupi dodged.
Barely.
The impact cratered the rooftop where it had been standing.
"Pin Missile!"
Skorupi fired.
The spikes bounced off Metagross's armor without leaving a scratch.
"Zen Headbutt."
Metagross turned.
Its head connected with Skorupi's body.
The Bug-type flew across the arena. It hit the low wall and crumpled.
"Skorupi is unable to battle," Axel said. "Metagross wins. The victory goes to Lucas Noblewarm."
---
Silence.
Nicola recalled Skorupi with trembling hands.
She didn't speak. She didn't look at Lucas. She just stared at the Pokéball in her palm, her chest heaving, her eyes burning.
Lucas walked over.
He extended his hand.
"You fought well," he said.
Nicola looked at him.
Then she shook his hand.
"Thanks."
She turned and walked away.
---
The aftermath was quiet.
Patricia was waiting at the edge of the rooftop. She didn't say anything—just opened her arms.
Nicola walked into them.
She didn't cry. Not yet. But her body shook, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and she held onto Patricia like she was the only thing keeping her upright.
Briv stood a few feet away.
He didn't interrupt.
Dariana stood beside him.
Samuel was leaning against the wall, his guitar absent, his expression unreadable.
Axel approached.
"Walk with me," he said.
Nicola pulled away from Patricia.
"Why?"
"Because we need to talk."
---
They walked to the edge of the rooftop.
The city stretched below them—the western district still smoldering, the canals still flowing, the crystal towers still catching what little light filtered through the clouds.
"You're one win away from the League," Axel said.
"I know."
"And one loss away from elimination."
"I know."
"The next match is crucial."
"I know."
Axel looked at her.
"Do you know who you're fighting?"
Nicola shook her head.
"His name is Revan Stormcloud."
Nicola froze.
"The Eclipse Squad leader?"
"One of them. But yes."
"He's a trainer?"
"He's registered. He's qualified. And he's been climbing the ranks for months."
Nicola stared at the city.
"He's been waiting for this," she said.
"He has."
"Because he wants to fight me."
"Because he wants to beat you. He wants to beat all of you. Briv. Patricia. Dariana. You're the ones who stood against him. He wants to prove he's better."
Nicola's jaw tightened.
"Then I'll give him a fight."
Axel nodded.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
He turned and walked away.
---
Nicola stood at the edge of the rooftop for a long time.
The city was quiet now. The fires in the western district had finally burned out. The people had been evacuated. The Eclipse Squad had vanished back into the shadows.
But she could feel them.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
Patricia appeared beside her.
"You okay?"
"No."
"That's fair."
Nicola laughed—a short, humorless sound.
"I just lost. I'm exhausted. My Pokémon are hurt. And now I have to fight a terrorist in a League match."
"Pretty much."
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
Patricia leaned against the wall.
"For what it's worth," she said, "you did good out there."
"I lost."
"You fought Lucas Noblewarm and took down two of his Pokémon. That's more than most trainers manage."
"It wasn't enough."
"It never is."
Nicola was quiet.
"I'm not going to let him win," she said.
"Revan?"
"Any of them. I'm not going to let them break me."
Patricia smiled.
"Good."
She put a hand on Nicola's shoulder.
"Because we're not going to let them break any of us."
---
The sun set over Aethelburg.
The city glowed.
And somewhere in the darkness, the Eclipse Squad was planning its next move.
Waiting.
Ready.
For the moment to strike.
=====
The safehouse settled into a fragile quiet.
Dariana moved through the living room with practiced efficiency, checking on the civilians, distributing blankets and water, speaking in low tones to Nurse Joy. Her Gallade stood by the window, its red eyes scanning the street below, blade-arms tense and ready.
Patricia sat on the floor with Floatzel's head in her lap. The Water-type had barely moved since they'd arrived—its breathing was steady, but its eyes were half-closed, its body still recovering from the strain of evolution.
Briv paced.
He couldn't help it. His legs wouldn't stay still. His mind wouldn't stop racing.
Nicola sat in the corner, her back against the wall, her Pokéballs arranged in a neat line beside her. She hadn't spoken in twenty minutes. She hadn't looked at anyone.
Samuel was asleep again, his dreadlocks splayed across the floor, his guitar resting on his chest like a shield.
---
"We need to talk about tomorrow," Dariana said.
Briv stopped pacing.
"What about it?"
"Axel said the League isn't stopping. That means your next match is still scheduled."
Briv ran a hand through his hair.
"Right. The practice battle."
"Practice battle?"
"Some trainer from the southern district. Axel set it up—said I needed to test my team before the real thing."
He glanced at Nicola.
"Figured it would be good to work out the kinks."
Nicola didn't respond.
---
Patricia looked up.
"When is it?"
"Tomorrow morning. Arena in the northern district. Same place Nicola fought Lucas."
"She's right here," Nicola said flatly.
Patricia winced.
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
It wasn't fine. Everyone knew it wasn't fine.
---
Briv walked over to Nicola and sat down beside her.
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay."
He didn't push. He just sat there, his shoulder almost touching hers, his presence steady and quiet.
After a long moment, Nicola spoke.
"He used me."
"Revan?"
"Lucas. He knew I was tired. He knew my team was exhausted. He could have ended it in five minutes, but he dragged it out. He wanted to see what I had."
Briv nodded.
"That's what good trainers do."
"I know."
She turned to look at him.
"But I'm not going to let it happen again. Not with Revan. Not with anyone."
Briv met her eyes.
"Good."
---
Torterra took up most of the warehouse's back corner.
The massive Grass- and Ground-type had been quiet since the escape—its trees rustling faintly in the still air, its eyes half-closed, its body still as stone. But it wasn't sleeping. Patricia could tell. Its breathing was too measured, its posture too alert.
Prinplup stood beside it.
The Water-type was grooming its feathers with methodical precision—each movement deliberate, each stroke careful. Its pride had been wounded during the escape. It had been forced to retreat into its ball, to sit idle while others fought.
Luxio paced near the door.
The Electric-type's tail flicked back and forth, its yellow eyes tracking every sound, every shadow. It hadn't relaxed since they'd arrived. It didn't trust the quiet.
Riolu sat near Briv.
The Fighting-type was small and still, its red eyes fixed on its trainer. It could feel the tension radiating off Briv like heat—the frustration, the fear, the desperate need to do something.
Gible was asleep.
The Dragon-type had curled into a ball near Torterra's feet, its fin twitching occasionally, its dreams filled with battles it hadn't yet fought.
Infernape stood watch.
The Fire-type was motionless—its flame crown burning low, its eyes scanning the room, its body coiled and ready. It had been silent since the escape. It didn't need to speak. Its presence was enough.
---
The night passed slowly.
Patricia dozed in fits and starts, her dreams fragmented and strange—fire and smoke and Revan's smile, always Revan's smile, sharp and cruel and knowing.
She woke to gray light filtering through the windows.
Briv was already up.
He stood by the window, his back to her, his shoulders tense. Floatzel was beside him, its head resting against his hip.
Patricia walked over.
"Hey."
He turned.
"Hey."
"You ready for this?"
"No."
She took his hand.
"Good. That means you're smart."
He laughed—a short, humorless sound.
"Let's go."
---
The arena was a warehouse conversion.
Once a shipping depot, now a training facility—open floor, high ceilings, exposed beams, harsh overhead lights that buzzed faintly in the silence. A few spectators had gathered in the rafters, drawn by word of mouth, their murmurs echoing off the metal walls.
Axel stood in the center.
Rotom flickered beside him, its orange body crackling with restless energy.
Across from Briv stood a stranger.
He was tall and wiry, with close-cropped black hair and pale gray eyes. His clothes were plain—gray shirt, black pants, worn boots. He didn't speak. He didn't smile. He just stood there, waiting.
Briv didn't recognize him.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The stranger tilted his head.
"Does it matter?"
"Figured it would be polite."
"It doesn't."
Briv shrugged.
"Fine."
---
Axel raised his hand.
"This is a sanctioned practice battle. Three-on-three. No items. No substitutions except by knockout. Victory by elimination of all opposing Pokémon. Are both trainers ready?"
"Ready," Briv said.
The stranger nodded.
"Begin."
---
The stranger sent out his first Pokémon.
Kirlia.
The Psychic- and Fairy-type emerged gracefully—its white body slender and elegant, its green hair flowing like silk, its red eyes calm and focused. It moved with a dancer's precision, its feet barely touching the ground.
Briv responded.
Prinplup.
The Water-type materialized with a proud cry, its feathers gleaming, its posture immaculate. It had been waiting for this. It needed this.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
The stranger moved first.
"Kirlia. Psychic."
Kirlia raised its hands.
A wave of invisible force slammed into Prinplup.
The Water-type slid backward, its claws digging into the floor, but it didn't fall. It had trained too hard. It had suffered too much. It wasn't going to break.
"Prinplup," Briv said. "Metal Claw."
Prinplup's flippers glowed silver.
It lunged.
Kirlia tried to dodge—it was fast, graceful, its body twisting away from the blow—but Prinplup was faster. Its claw caught Kirlia's shoulder, and the Psychic-type staggered.
"Now," Briv said. "Bubble Beam."
Prinplup opened its beak.
A torrent of bubbles shot forward, each one bursting with concussive force. Kirlia tried to shield itself, but the attack was too wide, too fast, too relentless. It stumbled backward, its movements growing sluggish.
"Kirlia," the stranger said. "Calm Mind."
Kirlia closed its eyes.
The air around it shimmered.
"Don't let it," Briv said. "Aqua Jet."
Prinplup launched itself forward.
It became a blur of blue and white, its body wrapped in water, its aim true.
It struck Kirlia dead center.
The Psychic-type flew across the arena and crumpled against the wall.
It didn't get up.
"Kirlia is unable to battle," Axel said. "Prinplup wins."
---
The stranger recalled his Pokémon without expression.
He sent out his second.
Porygon.
The Normal-type materialized with a mechanical hum—its body angular and smooth, its eyes blank and unreadable. It hovered in the air, its polygonal limbs twitching with calculated precision.
"Porygon," the stranger said. "Tri Attack."
Porygon's eyes glowed.
Three beams of energy—fire, ice, and lightning—shot toward Prinplup.
The Water-type tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The attack caught it square in the chest. Fire scorched its feathers. Ice froze its flippers. Lightning surged through its body. It collapsed.
"Prinplup is unable to battle," Axel said. "Porygon wins."
---
Briv recalled Prinplup.
He didn't hesitate.
"Torterra."
The massive Grass- and Ground-type emerged with a low rumble—its trees rustling, its shell gleaming, its eyes calm and patient. It had been waiting for this.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Porygon moved first.
"Psybeam."
A beam of psychic energy shot toward Torterra.
The Grass-type didn't move.
The attack hit its shell and dissipated harmlessly.
"Earthquake," Briv said.
Torterra raised its front legs.
It slammed them down.
The arena shook.
Porygon was thrown off balance—its hovering body tilting wildly, its systems scrambling to compensate. Cracks spread across the floor. Debris rained from the ceiling.
"Porygon," the stranger said. "Recover."
Porygon's body glowed.
Its damage began to heal.
"Wood Hammer," Briv said.
Torterra's shell glowed green.
It charged.
Porygon tried to dodge, but the Earthquake had crippled its mobility. Torterra's massive body crashed into it like a landslide. The Normal-type was sent flying across the arena, its body sparking and flickering.
It hit the ground.
It didn't move.
"Porygon is unable to battle," Axel said. "Torterra wins."
---
The stranger recalled his Pokémon.
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Not anger. Not frustration.
Interest.
"Not bad," he said.
Briv didn't respond.
---
The stranger sent out his final Pokémon.
Magmar.
The Fire-type emerged in a blaze of orange and red—its body molten, its beak-like mouth twisted into a snarl, its eyes burning with feral intensity. It was larger than most Magmar, its muscles coiled and powerful, its flames roaring.
Briv's jaw tightened.
"Torterra. Stay sharp."
Torterra rumbled.
"Magmar," the stranger said. "Flamethrower."
Magmar opened its mouth.
A torrent of fire engulfed Torterra.
The Grass-type roared.
It was hurt—badly. Fire was its weakness. But it didn't fall. It planted its feet. It endured.
"Now," Briv said. "Stone Edge."
Torterra's shell glowed.
Rocks erupted from the ground—sharp, jagged, deadly. Magmar tried to dodge, but the attack was too wide. A stone caught its leg. Another clipped its shoulder.
It staggered.
"Rock Slide," Briv said.
Torterra raised its head.
The ceiling cracked.
Boulders rained down.
Magmar tried to escape, but there was nowhere to run. The rocks crushed down on it—heavy, relentless, overwhelming. When the dust cleared, the Fire-type was buried.
It didn't get up.
"Magmar is unable to battle," Axel said. "Torterra wins. The victory goes to Briv Ambertone."
---
Silence.
Then applause.
The few spectators in the rafters clapped and cheered. Axel nodded, his expression unreadable.
The stranger recalled his Magmar.
He walked over to Briv.
"Good battle," he said.
"Thanks."
The stranger extended his hand.
Briv shook it.
"You're strong," the stranger said. "Stronger than I expected."
"I get that a lot."
The stranger smiled—a thin, knowing smile.
"Watch your back."
He turned and walked away.
---
Briv watched him go.
Something about the stranger's words gnawed at him—something he couldn't quite name. But before he could dwell on it, Patricia was there, her arms around his neck, her lips against his cheek.
"You did it."
"I did it."
Floatzel padded over and pressed its head against his leg.
Briv laughed.
"Okay, okay. I did it."
Nicola appeared at the edge of the arena.
She didn't smile. She didn't congratulate him.
But she nodded.
And that was enough.
---
They returned to the safehouse.
The civilians were still there—still scared, still waiting, still hoping. Nurse Joy had made progress. A few of the wounded had recovered enough to walk. A few had even smiled.
Dariana was in the kitchen, making lunch.
Samuel was awake, playing his guitar softly.
The notes filled the air—sad and beautiful and hopeful all at once.
Briv sat down on the couch.
Patricia sat beside him.
For a moment, they didn't speak. They just sat there, listening to the music, watching the light shift through the windows.
"What now?" Patricia asked.
Briv looked at her.
"Now we prepare. For the League. For Revan. For whatever comes next."
He took her hand.
"Together."
She squeezed his fingers.
"Together."
---
The sun was setting.
The city glowed.
And somewhere in the darkness, the Eclipse Squad was still out there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Ready for the moment to strike.