Chapter 87: Briv Trains
The canal district stank of old water and rust.
Briv walked at the rear of the group, his eyes scanning the narrow streets, the crumbling buildings, the shadows that seemed to move just at the edge of his vision. The city was waking up around them—shutters rattling open, merchants cursing as they dragged their wares onto the cobblestones, the distant clang of a tram bell.
Normal sounds. Normal life.
It felt wrong after last night.
Patricia walked ahead of him, her shoulders stiff, her hand resting on Lopunny's pokéball. She hadn't spoken since the amphitheater. Hadn't looked at him. Just walked with her jaw tight and her eyes fixed on the horizon.
Dariana moved beside her, close enough to touch, far enough to give space. Gallade walked behind them both, its blade-arms folded, its red eyes scanning the rooftops.
Nicola and Samuel flanked Axel at the front. Tangrowth lumbered behind them, its massive body barely fitting through the narrow alleys, its vines dragging along the walls. Probopass floated beside Samuel, its new magnetic body humming faintly, its tiny eyes darting from shadow to shadow.
Nobody said much.
The city felt like a held breath.
---
They stopped at a crossroads.
Axel pulled out his map and spread it against a wall. The paper was creased, stained with coffee and rain, but the lines were clear enough.
"League headquarters is two miles east," he said. "We can be there in an hour if we move fast."
"And if we don't?" Dariana asked.
"Then we take the long way. More checkpoints. More eyes."
"We've had enough eyes on us for one lifetime."
"Agreed."
Axel folded the map and tucked it back into his coat. His Rotom flickered at his shoulder, its orange body casting strange shadows across the cobblestones.
"We move fast," he said. "No stops. No detours. No—"
He stopped.
Briv followed his gaze.
A man stood at the end of the street.
He was young—mid-twenties, maybe—with dark skin, close-cropped hair, and a lean, wiry build. He wore a simple gray jacket and worn jeans. A single pokéball hung from his belt.
He wasn't Eclipse Squad. No emblem. No black cloak. No smug, predatory smile.
Just a man. Standing in the middle of the road. Watching them.
---
"Can we help you?" Axel asked.
His voice was calm. His hand was not. It hovered near Rotom's pokéball, ready.
The man raised his hands—slow, deliberate, palms open.
"Didn't mean to startle you," he said. "I'm just... looking for a battle."
Nicola blinked.
"A battle?"
"Yeah."
He gestured toward the pokéball on his belt.
"I've been traveling. Training. Haven't had a real challenge in weeks. Saw you coming down the street and figured—" He shrugged. "Worth a shot."
---
Briv stepped forward.
"You want to battle us?"
"Any of you. All of you. Doesn't matter."
The man's eyes moved across the group—Patricia, Dariana, Nicola, Samuel—before settling on Briv.
"You're Briv Ambertone," he said.
Briv didn't deny it.
"Last year's League champion."
"That was last year."
"Still counts."
The man smiled. It was a genuine smile—warm, easy, without an ounce of malice.
"My name's Harlan. I'm from the southern islands. Been training water-types my whole life. Figured I'd test myself against the best while I'm in the city."
---
Axel stepped between them.
"You picked a hell of a time to pick a fight."
"I'm not picking a fight. I'm picking a battle. There's a difference."
He looked at Briv.
"Three-on-three. Standard rules. No items. No cheap shots. Just Pokémon and strategy."
Briv glanced at Axel.
Axel's expression was unreadable.
"Your call," he said.
---
Briv thought about it.
Patricia needed rest. Dariana needed to recalibrate. Nicola was still raw from her loss to Lucas. Samuel was adjusting to Probopass's evolution.
But Briv?
Briv needed to fight.
Not because he was angry. Not because he was reckless. Because his team needed sharpening. Because the League was a month away, and he couldn't afford to be soft.
"Alright," he said.
Harlan's smile widened.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Three-on-three?"
"Three-on-three."
Briv looked at Axel.
"You ref?"
Axel sighed.
"Fine. But we do this quick. We're still on a clock."
---
They found an abandoned lot two blocks over.
It was a construction site—half-finished, half-forgotten. Steel beams jutted from concrete foundations. Piles of rubble formed uneven terrain. A chain-link fence surrounded the perimeter, but someone had torn a hole in it years ago.
Perfect.
Axel stood at the center of the lot, Rotom floating beside him.
"Standard rules," he announced. "Three Pokémon each. No substitutions except by knockout. No items. No outside interference. Victory by elimination of all opposing Pokémon. Are both trainers ready?"
Briv nodded.
Harlan nodded.
"Then send out your first Pokémon."
---
Harlan moved first.
"Froslass. Let's go."
The ball opened.
A cold wind swept through the lot—sharp, bitter, unnatural. Snowflakes materialized from nothing, swirling in lazy spirals around a floating figure.
Froslass.
She was beautiful in the way a glacier was beautiful—elegant, hollow, and utterly without mercy. Her body was pale blue and white, her eyes dark and knowing. A sash of crimson fabric trailed from her waist, fluttering in the wind she created.
Briv's breath fogged in the air.
"Prinplup," he said. "You're up."
---
Prinplup emerged with a sharp cry.
The Water-type landed on the concrete, its flippers spread, its yellow beak gleaming. It looked at Froslass with calm, calculating eyes. It had grown since Briv first caught it. Stronger. More disciplined. More proud.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Harlan moved first.
"Froslass. Icy Wind."
Froslass raised her arms.
The temperature plummeted.
A gust of frozen air swept across the lot—fast, razor-sharp, carrying shards of ice that glittered like broken glass. Prinplup raised its flippers, bracing against the impact, but the cold still bit into its skin.
"Prinplup. Haze."
Prinplup's body shimmered.
A cloud of frost and mist erupted from its skin, spreading across the battlefield, obscuring Froslass's vision.
"Clever," Harlan said. "Froslass. Shadow Ball."
Froslass didn't need to see.
She sensed Prinplup's presence—the water, the cold, the life force pulsing beneath the haze. A sphere of dark energy formed between her hands. She fired.
The attack struck Prinplup before it could dodge.
The Water-type staggered back, its body flickering with ghostly energy.
"Prinplup. Bubble Beam."
Prinplup opened its beak.
A stream of high-pressure bubbles shot forward—fast, precise, aimed directly at Froslass's core.
Froslass dodged.
She was faster than she looked. Lighter. More fluid. She moved through the air like smoke, her crimson sash trailing behind her like a wound.
"Frost Breath," Harlan said.
Froslass exhaled.
A cone of freezing air engulfed Prinplup. The Water-type cried out, its flippers stiffening, its movements slowing. Ice formed on its skin—thick, heavy, suffocating.
"Prinplup! Break free!"
Prinplup shook.
It twisted.
It slammed its flippers against the ground, cracking the concrete.
The ice shattered.
"Now! Aqua Jet!"
Prinplup launched itself forward—fast, unstoppable, its body wrapped in water and momentum. It struck Froslass dead center.
The Ghost-type reeled.
It didn't fall.
"Shadow Sneak," Harlan said.
Froslass vanished.
She reappeared behind Prinplup, her hand already extended, dark energy crackling between her fingers. She struck.
Prinplup tumbled forward.
It caught itself.
Turned.
"Metal Claw!" Briv shouted.
Prinplup's flipper glowed silver.
It slashed.
Froslass tried to dodge, but she was too close, too slow, too startled by Prinplup's resilience. The attack connected—a solid hit that sent her spiraling toward the ground.
She didn't get up.
"Froslass is unable to battle," Axel said. "Prinplup wins."
---
Harlan recalled her.
He didn't look upset.
"Good," he said. "Real good. But that was just the opening act."
He reached for his second pokéball.
"Meganium. Let's dance."
---
The Grass-type emerged with a roar.
Meganium was massive—much bigger than Briv had expected. Its body was pale green, its neck long, its petals vibrant pink. It carried itself with the calm authority of a Pokémon that had survived a hundred battles.
The air warmed instantly.
Prinplup stiffened.
"Prinplup, return," Briv said.
He recalled the Water-type before Meganium could attack. Prinplup had done its job. No reason to waste its energy.
"Smart," Harlan said.
Briv nodded.
"Gible. You're up."
---
Gible burst from its ball with a shriek.
The tiny Dragon-type landed on the concrete and immediately charged—no hesitation, no strategy, just pure, unbridled aggression.
"Gible! Wait!"
Too late.
Gible's jaws snapped at Meganium's leg.
Meganium shifted.
It didn't dodge. It didn't need to. Its body was covered in a thick layer of bark-like armor, and Gible's teeth barely left a scratch.
"Razor Leaf," Harlan said.
Meganium swung its neck.
A storm of leaves erupted from its petals—sharp, fast, spinning through the air like blades.
Gible dodged some.
Not all.
The leaves carved shallow cuts across its skin. Gible yelped.
"Gible! Use Dig!"
Gible's claws dug into the concrete.
It disappeared beneath the earth.
"Meganium. Earthquake."
Briv's eyes widened.
Meganium raised its leg.
"Wait—"
The ground shook.
The concrete cracked. The steel beams groaned. Dust exploded into the air.
Gible erupted from the ground, its body convulsing with shock, its eyes wide with pain.
"Shit," Briv hissed. "Gible! Dragon Rage!"
Gible's mouth glowed.
It fired.
The blast struck Meganium's chest.
The Grass-type staggered.
But it didn't fall.
"Petal Blizzard," Harlan said.
Meganium's petals exploded.
A cyclone of pink and green engulfed the battlefield—beautiful, violent, relentless. Gible tried to dodge, tried to dig, tried to—
It collapsed.
"Gible is unable to battle," Axel said. "Meganium wins."
---
Briv recalled Gible.
His hand was steady. His mind was racing.
Luxio.
The Electric-type emerged with a crackle of static—its blue fur bristling, its yellow eyes sharp, its star-tipped tail lashing. It had grown since the last time Briv had used it. Stronger. Faster. Hungrier.
It looked at Meganium.
Meganium looked at it.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Luxio moved first.
"Spark!"
Luxio's body ignited.
It launched itself forward—fast, crackling, a bolt of living lightning. It struck Meganium's side.
The Grass-type roared.
Its body convulsed.
"Counter," Harlan said.
Meganium slammed its tail into Luxio's ribs.
The Electric-type flew.
It hit a steel beam.
It didn't fall.
It landed on its feet.
"Luxio! Thunder Fang!"
Luxio charged.
Its fangs crackled with electricity.
It sank its teeth into Meganium's neck.
Meganium screamed.
"Earthquake."
The ground shook again.
Luxio lost its grip.
It tumbled.
Meganium raised its leg.
It stomped.
Luxio dodged.
Barely.
"Now! Discharge!"
Luxio's body exploded with electricity.
The blast struck Meganium directly in the chest.
The Grass-type staggered.
Its legs buckled.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Meganium is unable to battle," Axel said. "Luxio wins."
---
Harlan recalled his Pokémon.
For the first time, he looked worried.
"Alright," he said. "You're better than I thought."
"One left," Briv said.
"One left."
Harlan reached for his final pokéball.
"Wartortle. Let's finish this."
---
The Water-type emerged.
It was smaller than Prinplup—leaner, faster, more compact. Its tail was long and fluffy, its shell polished to a gleam, its eyes sharp and calculating.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Wartortle moved first.
"Aqua Jet."
It became a blur of blue and white—faster than Prinplup, faster than Luxio, faster than anything Briv had seen in a long time. It struck Luxio dead center.
Luxio tumbled.
It tried to rise.
Wartortle didn't give it a chance.
"Shell Smash."
Wartortle's shell cracked.
Not broke—cracked. A deliberate sacrifice. Its defense dropped, but its speed and power skyrocketed.
"Luxio! Discharge!"
Luxio's body ignited.
Wartortle dodged.
It moved like water—fluid, unpredictable, impossible to pin down.
"Water Pulse."
A ring of water formed around Wartortle's mouth.
It fired.
The attack struck Luxio's chest.
The Electric-type gasped.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Luxio is unable to battle," Axel said. "Wartortle wins."
---
Briv recalled Luxio.
His heart was pounding.
Prinplup was still in his party. Still ready. But it had taken damage from Froslass. And Wartortle was faster, sharper, more aggressive.
He had one move.
"Prinplup. You're up."
---
Prinplup emerged.
It looked tired. Its body was covered in small cuts and bruises. Its breathing was heavy. But its eyes were still sharp. Still proud.
Wartortle looked at it.
Prinplup looked back.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Wartortle moved first.
"Aqua Jet."
It became a blur.
Prinplup didn't dodge.
It raised its flipper.
"Metal Claw."
The attack connected.
Wartortle's momentum carried it forward, but Prinplup's claw caught it across the chest—a deep, solid hit that sent the Water-type tumbling across the concrete.
Wartortle scrambled to its feet.
"Water Pulse!"
"Bubble Beam!"
The attacks collided.
Steam exploded across the battlefield.
Prinplup moved through it.
"Now! Aqua Jet!"
Prinplup launched itself forward.
It struck Wartortle in the shell.
The Water-type rolled.
It tried to rise.
Prinplup was already there.
"Metal Claw!"
The attack struck Wartortle's exposed underbelly.
The Water-type screamed.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Wartortle is unable to battle," Axel said. "Prinplup wins. The victory goes to Briv Ambertone."
---
Silence.
Then Harlan laughed.
He laughed like he'd just heard the funniest joke of his life. He recalled Wartortle, clipped the ball to his belt, and walked over to Briv with his hand extended.
"That was incredible," he said.
Briv shook it.
"You're good."
"I'm alright. You're better."
Harlan looked at Prinplup, who was still standing in the center of the lot, its chest heaving, its eyes bright.
"That Prinplup," he said. "He's got heart. Real heart. You don't see that often."
"I know."
"Where'd you get him?"
"The Sinnoh region. He was a Piplup when I caught him. Stubborn little bastard."
Harlan grinned.
"Figures."
---
Patricia approached.
She looked better than she had before—less hollow, less haunted. She watched Briv recall Prinplup and clip the ball to his belt.
"You were right," she said.
"About what?"
"About fighting. About sharpening up."
She looked at the lot, at the cracks in the concrete, at the steam still rising from the battlefield.
"I needed to see that."
Briv nodded.
"We all did."
---
Axel stepped forward.
"Alright," he said. "Show's over. We need to move."
Harlan looked at him.
"Where you headed?"
"League headquarters."
"Mind if I tag along?"
Axel's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"I'm competing too. Figured it'd be safer in numbers."
Axel studied him for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Fine. But you keep pace. No stragglers."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
---
They left the lot.
The city stretched out around them—crystal towers and floating bridges, glowing canals and humming power lines. The League headquarters loomed in the distance, bright and impossible, a promise waiting to be kept.
Patricia walked beside Briv.
Her hand found his.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
"Obviously."
She squeezed his fingers.
"One month."
"One month."
"Think we're ready?"
He looked at his team—Prinplup, Gible, Luxio, Infernape, Torterra, Riolu. He thought about everything they'd been through. Everything they'd survived.
"No," he said.
"Me neither."
She smiled.
"But we'll figure it out."
They kept walking.
The League awaited.
And Briv Ambertone didn't intend to lose.
=====
The words hung in the air like a challenge to the universe itself.
Briv meant them. Every syllable. Every letter. The League was a month away, and he'd already tasted victory once. He wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers now.
They moved through the city's veins—narrow streets, forgotten alleys, bridges that creaked underfoot. Harlan kept pace at the rear, his eyes scanning the shadows with the calm vigilance of someone who'd learned to expect trouble.
The League headquarters grew larger with every step. Crystal spires caught the morning light and scattered it across the rooftops. Floating bridges connected towers at impossible heights. The whole structure looked less like a building and more like a declaration.
We are here. We are watching. We are everything.
Patricia hadn't let go of Briv's hand.
He didn't pull away.
---
The canal district gave way to a commercial quarter—shops shuttered, cafés empty, the streets still recovering from the Eclipse Squad's attack. A few people moved along the sidewalks, their heads down, their pace quick.
Nobody wanted to be outside for long.
Dariana walked beside Samuel, her Gallade trailing behind them like a silver shadow. She hadn't spoken much since the amphitheater. Her eyes were distant, calculating, running through strategies that hadn't worked.
Probopass hummed beside Samuel, its magnetic field making the air feel thick and strange. The Rock-type had adjusted to its new body with surprising grace. Its movements were slow but deliberate. Its eyes missed nothing.
Nicola walked alone.
Her Tangrowth lumbered behind her, vines dragging along the pavement, eyes half-closed. Staravia perched on her shoulder, its crest raised, its gaze sharp. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the plaza. Her jaw was tight. Her hands were clenched.
Axel led the group, his Rotom flickering from form to form—fan, frost, wash, heat—before settling back into its base shape. He moved like a man who'd walked through worse and expected worse still.
---
They stopped at a fountain in the center of a small square.
The water was still running—clean, clear, impossibly normal. Someone had thrown coins into the basin. A child's toy floated near the edge.
Briv sat on the rim and pulled out his water bottle.
Patricia sat beside him.
"You meant what you said," she murmured.
"About what?"
"About not losing."
He took a drink.
"Every word."
She looked at him—really looked at him—and for a moment, the weight of the last few days seemed to lift from her shoulders.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not losing either."
---
A voice cut through the quiet.
"Well, well. Look who's still alive."
Briv's head snapped up.
A figure stood at the edge of the square—tall, lean, with messy brown hair and sharp green eyes that gleamed with familiar mischief. He wore a dark green jacket with white accents, jeans, and sneakers that had seen better days.
Ben Tennyson.
Briv's old friend.
---
"Ben?" Briv stood.
"Hey, champ."
Ben crossed the square in a few long strides. He clasped Briv's hand, pulled him into a rough hug, and slapped his back hard enough to make him cough.
"Thought you'd be dead by now."
"Thought you'd be in jail."
"Close."
Ben pulled back and looked at the group.
"Patricia." He nodded at her. "Still putting up with this idiot?"
"Someone has to."
His eyes moved to Nicola.
"Nicola Sunfall. Heard about your match with Lucas. Tough break."
She didn't respond.
His gaze found Dariana, and something shifted in his expression—recognition, yes, but also curiosity. Interest. The kind of attention that made Dariana's posture straighten.
"Dariana Brightone," he said.
"You know me?"
"Everyone knows you. Former athlete. Dancer. The one who made it to 12 challenges in her first year."
Dariana tilted her head.
"And you're Ben Tennyson. Team Fantasy's star midfielder. I've seen you play."
"You have?"
"I watch sports."
Ben grinned.
"Then you know I don't lose."
---
Axel stepped between them.
"Your name," he said.
"Ben Tennyson. You're Axel Dualblade. Former League runner-up. One Pokémon. Six losses. Nine wins."
Axel's eyes narrowed.
"You've done your research."
"I do research on everyone."
Ben looked at the group again.
"You're heading to the League. So am I. Figured we could travel together."
Axel didn't answer immediately.
"We're not looking for company."
"I'm not looking for company. I'm looking for a battle."
---
Dariana's ears perked up.
"A battle?"
"Three-on-three. You and me."
She blinked.
"Why me?"
"Because you're one win away from qualifying. And I want to see if you've got what it takes."
Dariana's jaw tightened.
"How do you know how many wins I have?"
"Like I said. I do research."
---
Briv stepped forward.
"Dariana, you don't have to—"
"Yes."
She cut him off.
"I do."
She looked at Ben.
"Three-on-three. Standard rules."
Ben nodded.
"Standard rules."
He glanced at Axel.
"You ref?"
Axel sighed.
"Fine. But we do this quick."
---
They found an open space behind an abandoned warehouse—a courtyard of cracked concrete and rusted pipes. The walls were high, the exits narrow. It was private. Quiet. Perfect.
Axel stood at the center, Rotom hovering beside him.
"Standard rules," he announced. "Three Pokémon each. No substitutions except by knockout. No items. Victory by elimination of all opposing Pokémon. Are both trainers ready?"
Dariana nodded.
Ben nodded.
"Then send out your first Pokémon."
---
Dariana moved first.
"Combee."
The tiny Flying-type emerged with a soft buzz—its three faces blinking in the morning light, its wings fluttering nervously. It had grown since Dariana first caught it. It wasn't confident yet. But it was trying.
Ben studied it.
"Combee," he said. "Interesting choice."
He reached for his first pokéball.
"Grovyle. Let's go."
---
The Grass-type emerged with a flash of green.
Grovyle was lean and sharp—its body covered in leaf-like blades, its eyes narrow and calculating. It moved with the fluid grace of a predator. Its arms ended in long, deadly leaves.
It looked at Combee.
Combee trembled.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Ben moved first.
"Grovyle. Quick Attack."
Grovyle vanished.
It reappeared behind Combee, its arm already swinging.
"Combee! Dodge!"
Combee reacted a moment too late.
Grovyle's Leaf Blade caught its side.
The Flying-type tumbled through the air, its wings struggling to stabilize.
"Combee! Gust!"
Combee flapped.
A burst of wind erupted from its wings—small, but focused. It struck Grovyle's chest.
The Grass-type barely flinched.
"Energy Ball," Ben said.
Grovyle raised its arm.
A sphere of green energy formed at its fingertips.
It fired.
Combee tried to dodge.
The attack caught its wing.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Combee is unable to battle," Axel said. "Grovyle wins."
---
Dariana recalled her Pokémon.
Her hand was steady.
Shellos.
The Water-type emerged with a soft cry—its body glistening, its antennae swaying, its eyes wide and calm. It had grown since Dariana first caught it. It wasn't fast. It wasn't strong. But it was patient.
It was resilient.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Grovyle moved first.
"Leaf Blade."
It slashed.
Shellos didn't dodge.
It absorbed the hit.
Its body rippled, but held.
"Shellos. Mud Bomb."
Shellos spat.
A sphere of mud and water struck Grovyle's chest.
The Grass-type stumbled.
"Mud Shot," Dariana said.
Shellos fired again.
The attack struck Grovyle's legs.
It slowed.
"Grovyle! X-Scissor!"
Grovyle lunged.
Its arms crossed in an X.
Shellos didn't dodge.
It absorbed the hit.
It held.
"Now! Water Pulse!"
Shellos's body glowed.
A ring of water erupted from its center, expanding outward, striking Grovyle point-blank.
The Grass-type was thrown backward.
It hit the wall.
It didn't get up.
"Grovyle is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shellos wins."
---
Ben recalled his Pokémon.
He didn't look upset.
He looked impressed.
"Your Shellos is tough," he said.
Dariana nodded.
"She's been through worse."
Ben reached for his second pokéball.
"Croconaw. Let's go."
---
The Water-type emerged with a roar.
Croconaw was stocky and powerful—its blue body covered in scales, its jaw lined with sharp teeth, its tail thick and muscular. It carried itself with the confidence of a Pokémon that had never lost a fight.
It looked at Shellos.
Shellos looked back.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Croconaw moved first.
"Water Gun."
It fired.
Shellos absorbed the hit.
Its body rippled.
It held.
"Mud Bomb."
Shellos fired back.
Croconaw dodged.
It was faster than it looked.
"Crunch," Ben said.
Croconaw lunged.
Its jaws closed around Shellos's body.
The Water-type cried out.
"Shellos! Recover!"
Shellos glowed.
Its wounds began to heal.
But Croconaw didn't let go.
"Crunch again."
Croconaw's jaws tightened.
Shellos screamed.
Then went silent.
Its body went limp.
"Shellos is unable to battle," Axel said. "Croconaw wins."
---
Dariana recalled her Pokémon.
Her hand was shaking.
She had one left.
Croagunk.
---
The Fighting-type emerged with a croak—its body wiry and compact, its eyes sly and calculating, its throat sac inflating and deflating with rhythmic precision. It had grown since Dariana first caught it. It wasn't strong. But it was clever.
It looked at Croconaw.
Croconaw looked back.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Croagunk moved first.
"Poison Jab."
Its fist glowed purple.
It struck Croconaw's side.
The Water-type grunted.
"Crunch," Ben said.
Croconaw lunged.
Croagunk dodged.
It was faster than it looked.
"Toxic," Dariana said.
Croagunk opened its mouth.
A stream of purple liquid struck Croconaw's chest.
The Water-type howled.
Poison seeped into its scales.
Its movements slowed.
"Water Gun!"
Croconaw fired.
The blast caught Croagunk in the chest.
The Fighting-type tumbled backward.
It caught itself.
"Now! Drain Punch!"
Croagunk lunged.
Its fist connected with Croconaw's jaw.
The Water-type staggered.
"Crunch!"
Croconaw's jaws closed around Croagunk's arm.
The Fighting-type screamed.
"Poison Jab!"
Croagunk struck again.
It struck Croconaw's throat.
The Water-type gagged.
Its jaws loosened.
Croagunk pulled free.
"Toxic."
Croagunk spat again.
More poison.
Croconaw convulsed.
Its body was failing.
It collapsed.
"Croconaw is unable to battle," Axel said. "Croagunk wins."
---
Ben recalled his Pokémon.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
He wasn't frowning, either.
He was calculating.
"One left," he said.
"One left," Dariana replied.
Ben reached for his final pokéball.
"Quilava. Let's finish this."
---
The Fire-type emerged with a roar.
Quilava was sleek and fast—its body covered in blue and cream fur, its flames burning bright along its back and head. It moved with the fluid grace of a predator.
It looked at Croagunk.
Croagunk looked back.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Quilava moved first.
"Flame Wheel."
It curled into a ball.
It ignited.
It rolled.
Croagunk dodged.
Barely.
The flames scorched its side.
"Smokescreen," Dariana said.
Croagunk exhaled.
A cloud of black smoke erupted from its throat, covering the battlefield.
"Quilava. Aerial Ace."
Quilava launched itself forward.
It didn't need to see.
It followed Croagunk's aura.
It struck.
Croagunk tumbled.
It didn't fall.
"Poison Jab!"
Croagunk lunged.
Its fist connected with Quilava's chest.
The Fire-type grunted.
"Flame Wheel."
Quilava ignited again.
It rolled.
It struck Croagunk point-blank.
The Fighting-type screamed.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Croagunk is unable to battle," Axel said. "Quilava wins. The victory goes to Ben Tennyson."
---
Silence.
Dariana stood frozen.
Her Pokémon lay on the concrete, unconscious, covered in soot and burns. She had one win left. One loss left. Everything depended on what came next.
She recalled Croagunk.
Her hand was steady.
Ben walked over.
"That was incredible," he said.
Dariana looked up.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't be nice."
Ben tilted his head.
"Why not?"
"Because I lost."
"So?"
"So I'm one win away from the League. And one loss away from elimination."
She looked at her pokéballs.
"The next match is everything."
Ben nodded slowly.
"Yeah. It is."
He extended his hand.
"Good luck."
Dariana stared at his hand.
Then she took it.
---
Briv stepped forward.
"You okay?"
Dariana nodded.
"I will be."
Patricia put a hand on her shoulder.
"We'll train. Together."
Dariana's jaw tightened.
"Tomorrow."
She looked at the League headquarters.
"Tomorrow, we train."
They gathered their things.
Harlan watched from the edge of the courtyard, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Axel checked his watch.
"We need to move."
They left the courtyard.
The city swallowed them.
Dariana walked at the center of the group, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
One win.
One loss.
Everything to prove.
She didn't intend to lose either.