Chapter 92: Nicola Trains
The arena was a hollowed-out shell of concrete and rust, tucked between two crumbling warehouses in the industrial district. Someone had strung up floodlights on the walls, their orange glow cutting through the evening haze. The floor was scarred with the marks of a hundred previous battles—scorch marks, craters, gouges in the stone.
Nicola stood at the center line.
Her opponent was already waiting.
He was lean and wiry, maybe twenty-five, with close-cropped black hair and eyes that never stopped moving. He wore a faded green jacket over a stained t-shirt. His boots were held together with duct tape.
He didn't offer his name.
Neither did she.
"You the one who's been asking around for practice matches?" he said.
"Word travels fast."
"I heard you're qualified for the League."
"I am."
"And you're still looking for fights?"
"Always."
He smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Good."
---
Axel emerged from the shadows.
He'd been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching. His Rotom flickered above his shoulder, its orange body buzzing with restless energy.
"I'll referee," he said.
Nicola nodded.
The stranger shrugged.
"Fine by me."
Axel stepped to the center line.
"Standard rules. Three-on-three. No substitutions. No items. Victory by elimination."
He looked at Nicola.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
He looked at the stranger.
"You?"
"Born ready."
Axel's expression didn't change.
"Then send out your first Pokémon."
---
The stranger moved first.
"Ivysaur. Let's go."
The Grass-Poison type emerged with a low, rumbling growl.
Ivysaur was stocky and powerful, its body thick with muscle beneath its blue-green skin. The bulb on its back pulsed with latent energy. Its eyes were sharp. Focused. Hungry.
Nicola studied it.
Grass-Poison. Balanced. Probably knows Sleep Powder and Razor Leaf.
She reached for her first ball.
"Snover. You're up."
---
Snover emerged with a quiet cry.
The Grass-Ice type landed on the concrete and immediately settled into a defensive stance. Its white body gleamed under the floodlights. Its evergreen limbs swayed. Its eyes locked onto Ivysaur with calm, patient focus.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Snover. Ice Shard."
Snover's body glowed.
It unleashed a volley of jagged ice crystals that tore across the arena.
Ivysaur didn't dodge.
It couldn't.
The ice struck its flank and exploded into frost.
Ivysaur roared.
"Razor Leaf," the stranger said.
Ivysaur's bulb ignited.
It hurled a storm of razor-sharp leaves across the field.
Snover braced.
The leaves struck its body and tore through its bark-like skin.
Snover staggered.
"Powder Snow," Nicola said.
Snover inhaled.
It released a swirling cloud of freezing mist.
The mist engulfed Ivysaur.
The Grass-type shivered.
Its movements slowed.
"Sleep Powder," the stranger said.
Ivysaur's bulb pulsed.
A cloud of blue spores erupted outward.
Snover didn't dodge.
It didn't need to.
The spores struck its body and dissipated harmlessly.
"What the—" The stranger's eyes narrowed.
"Snover's ability," Nicola said. "Snow Warning. It summons a hailstorm when it enters battle."
She paused.
"Oh. And it's also immune to powder moves."
The stranger's jaw tightened.
"Fine. Vine Whip."
Ivysaur's vines lashed out.
They struck Snover's body and wrapped around its limbs.
"Razor Leaf," the stranger said.
Ivysaur's bulb ignited.
"Sword Dance," Nicola said.
Snover's body glowed.
Its attack power surged.
"Too late," the stranger said.
The leaves struck.
Snover reeled.
It didn't fall.
"Ice Shard," Nicola said.
Snover's body ignited.
It unleashed a point-blank volley of ice crystals.
The attack struck Ivysaur's face.
The Grass-type roared.
It staggered.
"Again," Nicola said.
Snover attacked.
Again.
And again.
Ivysaur's legs buckled.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Ivysaur is unable to battle," Axel said. "Snover wins."
---
The stranger recalled his Pokémon.
He didn't look upset.
"Not bad," he said. "But that was the warm-up."
He reached for his second ball.
"Butterfree. Let's go."
---
Butterfree emerged with a flutter of wings.
The Bug-Flying type was elegant and ethereal, its wings covered in fine scales that shimmered under the floodlights. Its compound eyes gleamed with cold intelligence. Its body was lean and quick.
Nicola studied it.
Bug-Flying. Fast. Special attacker. Probably knows Sleep Powder and Psychic.
She recalled Snover.
"Shieldon. You're up."
---
Shieldon emerged with a metallic clang.
The Rock-Steel type landed on the concrete and immediately lowered its head, presenting its armored face to the enemy. Its body was compact and sturdy. Its eyes were calm. Patient.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Butterfree. Sleep Powder."
Butterfree's wings ignited.
A cloud of blue spores erupted across the field.
Shieldon didn't move.
The spores struck its body and dissipated harmlessly.
"Shieldon's ability," Nicola said. "Soundproof. It's immune to sound-based moves. And it's wearing a Safety Goggles."
She paused.
"Oh. And it's also immune to powder moves."
The stranger's expression darkened.
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"Butterfree. Psychic."
Butterfree's eyes glowed.
A wave of psychic energy erupted outward.
Shieldon reeled.
It staggered.
But it didn't fall.
"Iron Defense," Nicola said.
Shieldon's body gleamed.
Its defense surged.
"Psychic again," the stranger said.
Butterfree attacked.
Shieldon took the hit.
Its body rang like a bell.
It didn't fall.
"Ancient Power," Nicola said.
Shieldon's body ignited.
A wave of prehistoric energy erupted outward.
The attack struck Butterfree's wings.
The Bug-type screeched.
It spiraled.
It caught itself.
"Bug Buzz," the stranger said.
Butterfree's body pulsed.
A shockwave of sound erupted outward.
Shieldon didn't flinch.
"Soundproof," Nicola said.
The stranger swore.
"Air Cutter," he said.
Butterfree's wings glowed.
It unleashed a volley of razor-sharp blades of wind.
Shieldon reeled.
Its armor cracked.
But it didn't fall.
"Stone Edge," Nicola said.
Shieldon's body ignited.
It hurled a barrage of sharpened stones across the field.
Butterfree tried to dodge.
It couldn't.
The stones struck its wings and tore through them.
Butterfree spiraled.
It crashed.
It didn't get up.
"Butterfree is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shieldon wins."
---
The stranger recalled his Pokémon.
His hands were shaking.
"Two down," he said. "One to go."
He reached for his final ball.
"Beedrill. Let's finish this."
---
Beedrill emerged with a furious buzz.
The Bug-Poison type was lean and deadly, its yellow-and-black body bristling with sharp stingers. Its wings beat a frantic rhythm. Its eyes burned with rage.
Nicola recalled Shieldon.
"Magnemite. You're up."
---
Magnemite emerged with a metallic hum.
The Electric-Steel type hovered above the field, its single blue eye scanning the enemy with cold precision. Its magnets crackled with latent electricity.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Beedrill. Poison Jab."
Beedrill lunged.
Its stinger glowed with purple venom.
"Thunder Wave," Nicola said.
Magnemite's body ignited.
A wave of electrical energy erupted outward.
Beedrill seized up.
Its movements slowed.
Its limbs twitched.
"Poison Jab," the stranger said.
Beedrill tried to attack.
It couldn't.
Its body wouldn't cooperate.
"Thunderbolt," Nicola said.
Magnemite's body crackled.
It unleashed a bolt of lightning that tore across the arena.
Beedrill screeched.
It reeled.
It didn't fall.
"U-Turn," the stranger said.
Beedrill's body glowed.
It lunged forward and struck Magnemite's flank.
Then it retreated.
But it couldn't escape.
"Thunder Wave doesn't let you run," Nicola said. "It paralyzes. You're stuck."
The stranger's face went pale.
"X-Scissor," he said.
Beedrill tried to attack.
It couldn't.
"Thunderbolt," Nicola said.
Magnemite attacked.
Beedrill reeled.
It staggered.
It didn't fall.
"Again," Nicola said.
Magnemite attacked.
Again.
And again.
Beedrill's legs buckled.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Beedrill is unable to battle," Axel said. "Magnemite wins. The match goes to Nicola Sunfall."
---
Silence.
Nicola stood at the center line.
Her heart was pounding. Her hands were steady. Her breath came slow and even.
She'd won.
She'd actually won.
Magnemite hummed beside her.
Snover and Shieldon watched from their pokéballs.
She felt something settle in her chest.
Satisfaction.
---
The stranger recalled Beedrill.
He walked across the field.
He stopped in front of her.
"That was brutal."
Nicola nodded.
"Thanks."
"You didn't let me breathe. Not once."
"That's the point."
He studied her for a moment.
"You're going to be a problem at the League."
"I know."
He extended his hand.
She shook it.
"Good luck," he said.
"I don't need luck."
He laughed.
"Neither do I."
He turned and walked away.
---
Axel stepped forward.
"Match concluded," he said. "Nicola Sunfall remains at fourteen challenges, ten wins, four losses. She is officially qualified for the League."
He looked at her.
"Congratulations."
Nicola nodded.
"Thanks."
She recalled Magnemite and clipped the ball to her belt.
Her hands were still steady.
She liked that.
---
She walked home alone.
The streets were quiet. The canals glowed. The crystal towers cast long shadows across the cobblestones.
She thought about the battle.
About Snover's resilience. Shieldon's defense. Magnemite's precision.
About the stranger's face when he realized he couldn't win.
About the League.
About the trainers she'd face.
About Briv.
She stopped walking.
Why did she think about Briv?
She shook her head.
She kept walking.
---
The hostel was quiet when she arrived.
Patricia and Dariana were in the common room, playing cards. Briv was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey," Patricia said. "How was the battle?"
"I won."
"Obviously."
Nicola sat down.
Dariana dealt her in.
They played for an hour.
They didn't talk about the League.
They didn't talk about training.
They didn't talk about anything important.
It was nice.
---
Later that night, Nicola sat on the rooftop.
The stars were bright. The wind was warm. The city hummed below.
She thought about the battle.
About the stranger.
About his face when he realized he couldn't win.
She thought about the League.
About the trainers she'd face.
About Briv.
She stopped.
Why did she keep thinking about Briv?
She shook her head.
She stood up.
She went to bed.
---
She dreamed of lightning.
Of Magnemite's thunderbolt tearing across the arena.
Of Beedrill falling.
Of the stranger's face.
Of winning.
---
She woke at dawn.
The sun was rising over Aethelburg.
The city was waking up.
She was ready.
=====
She was ready.
---
The morning was sharp and clear, the kind of light that made everything look newly minted. Nicola stood at the window of her room, watching the city stir below—the merchants setting up their stalls, the trainers heading to the gyms, the early risers jogging along the glowing canals.
She felt good.
She felt ready.
---
She found Briv in the courtyard.
He was sparring with Infernape—nothing serious, just footwork drills and quick exchanges. The Fire-Fighting type moved like a dancer, ducking and weaving around Briv's exaggerated punches. Its flame flickered with amusement.
He saw her and stopped.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"How was the battle?"
"How did you know about the battle?"
"Patricia told me."
Nicola nodded.
"I won."
"Obviously."
She smiled.
It was a small smile. Barely there. But it was real.
---
They trained together that day.
Nicola and Briv.
Snover against Infernape. Shieldon against Torterra. Magnemite against Luxray.
They pushed each other.
They tested each other.
They learned.
---
At some point, they stopped.
They were both breathing hard. Both drenched in sweat. Both grinning.
"You're good," Briv said.
"I know."
"I mean it. You're really good."
"I know."
He laughed.
"You're impossible."
"I know."
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
Something passed between them.
Something neither of them acknowledged.
---
They went back to training.
---
The day passed quickly.
The evening came.
They gathered on the rooftop.
Patricia. Dariana. Briv. Nicola.
They ate. They drank. They laughed.
They talked about the League.
About their hopes. Their fears. Their strategies.
At some point, Nicola looked around at her friends and felt something settle in her chest.
She was ready.
They were all ready.
---
Later that night, Nicola sat alone on the rooftop.
The stars were bright. The wind was warm. The city hummed below.
She thought about the battle.
About the stranger.
About his face when he realized he couldn't win.
She thought about the League.
About the trainers she'd face.
About Briv.
She stopped.
Why did she keep thinking about Briv?
She shook her head.
She stood up.
She went to bed.
---
She dreamed of lightning.
Of Magnemite's thunderbolt tearing across the arena.
Of Beedrill falling.
Of the stranger's face.
Of winning.
---
She woke at dawn.
The sun was rising over Aethelburg.
The city was waking up.
She was ready.
=====
The morning light cut through the hostel window like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. Dariana stood at the glass, watching Aethelburg stir below—merchants hauling crates, trainers jogging the canal paths, the distant hum of airships docking at the crystal spires. Her reflection stared back at her, dark eyes hollowed by sleeplessness.
She hadn't slept.
Not really.
The battle with Julye replayed behind her eyelids every time she closed them—Gastrodon absorbing rock after rock, Combee dodging through the storm, Croagunk's fist connecting with Rhyhorn's flank. The victory should have felt complete. It didn't.
Something was missing.
She dressed in silence, pulling on her training clothes and clipping her pokéballs to her belt. Gallade's ball felt heavier than the others. Colder. She pressed her thumb against its surface and felt the faint pulse of the Pokémon's consciousness stirring within.
"You feel it too," she murmured.
The ball warmed slightly in response.
---
The industrial district was quiet at this hour.
Dariana walked the same path Patricia had taken days ago, past the old market, past the abandoned station, past the canals where she'd trained Gastrodon until its moves were perfect. The Razor Fang was gone—Patricia had used it—but the energy of that night lingered in the air like static before a storm.
She found the arena by accident.
It was tucked behind a collapsed warehouse, its walls tagged with faded graffiti, its concrete floor cracked and weed-choked. Someone had spray-painted a crude battlefield into the ground—a center line, two starting zones, boundaries marked in red. The paint was old. The place was forgotten.
A figure stood at the center.
He was tall and lanky, maybe twenty-three, with shaggy brown hair and a face that hadn't seen a razor in weeks. His clothes were patched and threadbare. His shoes were held together with tape. He looked like he'd been living rough for a long time.
He turned when he heard her footsteps.
"You're Dariana Brightone."
It wasn't a question.
"How do you know my name?"
"Everyone knows your name. You qualified for the League yesterday. Word travels fast in the underground."
Dariana studied him.
"You're a trainer."
"I'm a lot of things." He gestured at the arena. "I'm also looking for a battle. Three-on-three. You interested?"
She should have said no.
She had nothing to prove. She was qualified. She was ready.
But something in his eyes—something hungry, something desperate—spoke to her.
"Fine."
He smiled.
It wasn't a pleasant expression.
---
Axel appeared from the shadows.
He'd been leaning against the warehouse wall, arms crossed, watching. His Rotom flickered above his shoulder, its orange body buzzing with restless energy.
"I'll referee," he said.
Dariana nodded.
The stranger shrugged.
"Works for me."
Axel stepped to the center line.
"Standard rules. Three-on-three. No substitutions. No items. Victory by elimination."
He looked at Dariana.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
He looked at the stranger.
"You?"
The stranger cracked his knuckles.
"Let's find out."
Axel's expression didn't change.
"Then send out your first Pokémon."
---
The stranger moved first.
"Pidgeotto. Let's go."
The Flying type emerged with a sharp cry.
Pidgeotto was lean and swift, its cream-and-brown feathers sleek under the hazy morning sun. Its crest stood tall. Its eyes burned with feral intelligence. Its talons flexed, eager for combat.
Dariana studied it.
Normal-Flying. Fast. Probably knows Wing Attack and Quick Attack.
She reached for her first ball.
"Gallade. You're up."
---
Gallade emerged with a flash of light and a sound like a blade being unsheathed.
The Psychic-Fighting type landed on the cracked concrete and immediately settled into a fighting stance. Its silver-white body gleamed. Its green blade-arms extended. Its red eyes locked onto Pidgeotto with calm, calculating focus.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Pidgeotto. Wing Attack."
Pidgeotto dove.
Its wings ignited with white energy.
"Psycho Cut," Dariana said.
Gallade's arm-blades glowed.
It swung.
A crescent of psychic energy tore through the air.
Pidgeotto swerved.
The attack clipped its wing.
The bird screeched.
It spiraled.
It caught itself.
"Quick Attack," the stranger said.
Pidgeotto blurred.
It struck Gallade's flank before the Psychic type could react.
Gallade staggered.
"Again," the stranger said.
Pidgeotto attacked.
Gallade took the hit.
Its feet dug trenches in the concrete.
It didn't fall.
"Close Combat," Dariana said.
Gallade's body ignited.
It lunged.
Its fist connected with Pidgeotto's chest.
The bird gasped.
Gallade attacked again.
And again.
Pidgeotto reeled.
"Sand Attack," the stranger said.
Pidgeotto flapped its wings.
A cloud of grit erupted into Gallade's face.
Gallade stumbled.
Its vision blurred.
"Now," the stranger said. "Aerial Ace."
Pidgeotto lunged.
Its wings cut through the air like blades.
Gallade couldn't see.
It couldn't dodge.
It took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Psycho Cut," Dariana said. "Full spread."
Gallade's arms ignited.
It spun.
A whirlwind of psychic blades erupted outward.
Pidgeotto couldn't dodge.
The attack struck its body and tore through its feathers.
The bird crashed.
It didn't get up.
"Pidgeotto is unable to battle," Axel said. "Gallade wins."
---
The stranger recalled his Pokémon.
He didn't look upset.
"Not bad," he said. "But that was the warm-up."
He reached for his second ball.
"Raticate. Let's go."
---
Raticate emerged with a snarl.
The Normal type was lean and vicious, its brown fur bristling, its fangs bared. Its whiskers twitched with aggression. Its claws scraped the concrete.
Dariana studied it.
Normal type. Fast. Strong physical attacker. Probably knows Crunch and Sucker Punch.
She recalled Gallade.
"Croagunk. You're up."
---
Croagunk emerged with a sly grin.
The Poison-Fighting type landed on the field and immediately shifted into a fighting stance. Its cheeks bulged with venom. Its fingers flexed. It looked completely unbothered by the snarling rat before it.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Raticate. Crunch."
Raticate lunged.
Its fangs ignited with dark energy.
"Poison Jab," Dariana said.
Croagunk didn't dodge.
It stepped forward.
Its fist connected with Raticate's jaw.
The rat reeled.
It didn't fall.
It attacked.
Its fangs sank into Croagunk's shoulder.
Croagunk grunted.
Its body pulsed.
Poison Point.
Raticate howled.
It staggered backward, its mouth burning with venom.
"Sucker Punch," the stranger said.
Raticate lunged.
Its fist connected with Croagunk's face.
Croagunk reeled.
It didn't fall.
"Venoshock," Dariana said.
Croagunk's body ignited.
It spat a stream of purple venom.
The attack struck Raticate's body and exploded into poison.
Raticate screeched.
It convulsed.
The poison was working.
"Crunch," the stranger said.
Raticate lunged.
Croagunk dodged.
It sidestepped.
It struck.
Poison Jab.
Raticate staggered.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Raticate is unable to battle," Axel said. "Croagunk wins."
---
The stranger recalled his Pokémon.
His hands were steady.
"Two down," he said. "One to go."
He reached for his final ball.
"Raichu. Let's finish this."
---
Raichu emerged with a crackle of electricity.
The Electric type was sleek and powerful, its orange fur bristling, its long tail whipping through the air. Its cheeks sparked with barely contained voltage. Its eyes burned with fierce intelligence.
Dariana recalled Croagunk.
"Combee. You're up."
---
Combee emerged with a nervous buzz.
The tiny Flying type hovered above the field, its three faces reflecting three different emotions—brave, playful, cautious. Its wings fluttered with nervous energy.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Raichu. Thunderbolt."
Raichu's body ignited.
It unleashed a bolt of lightning that tore across the arena.
Combee dodged.
It spiraled.
It caught itself.
"Bug Buzz," Dariana said.
Combee's body pulsed.
A shockwave of sound erupted outward.
Raichu reeled.
It staggered.
"Thunderbolt again," the stranger said.
Raichu attacked.
"Air Cutter," Dariana said.
Combee's wings glowed.
It unleashed a volley of razor-sharp blades of wind.
The attacks collided.
Lightning and wind exploded in a burst of light.
Both Pokémon reeled.
Both stayed standing.
"Quick Attack," the stranger said.
Raichu blurred.
It struck Combee's flank before the Flying type could react.
Combee squeaked.
It spiraled.
It didn't fall.
"Gust," Dariana said.
Combee's wings ignited.
A tornado erupted across the field.
Raichu braced.
It didn't fall.
"Iron Tail," the stranger said.
Raichu's tail gleamed.
It swung.
The attack struck Combee's body.
Combee reeled.
It didn't fall.
"Bug Buzz. Full power," Dariana said.
Combee's body ignited.
A shockwave of sound erupted outward.
Raichu couldn't dodge.
The attack struck its body and tore through its defenses.
Raichu screeched.
It staggered.
"Thunderbolt," the stranger said.
Raichu attacked.
Combee took the hit.
It reeled.
It didn't fall.
"Air Cutter," Dariana said.
Combee attacked.
Raichu reeled.
"Again," Dariana said.
Combee attacked.
Again.
And again.
Raichu's legs buckled.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Raichu is unable to battle," Axel said. "Combee wins. The match goes to Dariana Brightone."
---
Silence.
Dariana stood at the center of the arena.
Her heart was pounding. Her hands were steady. Her breath came slow and even.
She'd won.
She'd actually won.
Gallade. Croagunk. Combee.
They'd done it.
---
The stranger recalled Raichu.
He walked across the field.
He stopped in front of her.
"That was brutal."
Dariana nodded.
"Thanks."
"You didn't let me breathe. Not once."
"That's the point."
He studied her for a moment.
"You're going to be a problem at the League."
"I know."
He extended his hand.
She shook it.
"Good luck," he said.
"I don't need luck."
He laughed.
"Neither do I."
He turned and walked away.
---
Axel stepped forward.
"Match concluded," he said. "Dariana Brightone remains at fourteen challenges, ten wins, four losses. She is officially qualified for the League."
He looked at her.
"Congratulations."
Dariana nodded.
"Thanks."
She recalled Combee and clipped the ball to her belt.
Her hands were still steady.
She liked that.
---
She walked home alone.
The streets were quiet. The canals glowed. The crystal towers cast long shadows across the cobblestones.
She thought about the battle.
About Gallade's precision. Croagunk's resilience. Combee's courage.
About the stranger's face when he realized he couldn't win.
About the League.
About the trainers she'd face.
About her friends.
She stopped walking.
She thought about Briv.
About Patricia.
About Nicola.
About how far they'd all come.
She kept walking.
---
The hostel was quiet when she arrived.
Patricia and Nicola were in the common room, playing cards. Briv was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey," Patricia said. "How was the battle?"
"I won."
"Obviously."
Dariana sat down.
Nicola dealt her in.
They played for an hour.
They didn't talk about the League.
They didn't talk about training.
They didn't talk about anything important.
It was nice.
---
Later that night, Dariana sat on the rooftop.
The stars were bright. The wind was warm. The city hummed below.
She thought about the battle.
About the stranger.
About his face when he realized he couldn't win.
She thought about the League.
About the trainers she'd face.
About her friends.
About winning.
About losing.
About everything in between.
Gallade appeared beside her.
The Psychic-Fighting type settled onto the rooftop and looked up at the stars. Its expression was calm. Content.
"You did good today," Dariana said.
Gallade inclined its head.
"Don't be modest. You were incredible."
Gallade's eyes softened.
"You know what's next?" Dariana asked.
Gallade looked at her.
"The League."
Gallade nodded.
"We're going to win."
Gallade nodded again.
"Okay," Dariana said. "Just checking."
---
She rejoined her friends.
She sat between Patricia and Nicola. Briv had returned and was sprawled on the couch, his head in Patricia's lap. Gastrodon rested nearby. Croagunk perched on the railing behind her. Pachirisu sat in her lap. Gallade stood at her shoulder. Glaceon sprawled nearby. Combee perched on the back of her chair.
She was surrounded. She was safe. She was home.
She was ready.
---
The night deepened.
The city slept.
And in the darkness, Dariana Brightone made a decision.
She would win the League.
Or she would die trying.