A jagged streak of lightning shot upward, curling like a snake as it struck the falling Slaking. The attack connected, electricity dancing over Slaking's fur, but even that couldn't stop the enormous Pokémon's descent.
BANG!
The ice surface cracked violently as Slaking's massive body crashed down onto Ampharos with a thunderous Body Slam. The force was so great that it smashed a small crater into the ice.
"...Tch."
Slaking stood slowly, his limbs stiff and his fur still crackling from the electricity. He'd been shocked twice in quick succession, and his muscles felt heavy and numb. But when the vibrations in the ice beneath him ceased, he knew Ampharos was no longer struggling.
Ampharos lay in the crater, eyes spinning.
"Ampharos is unable to battle! Slaking wins!" the referee announced.
Though Ampharos was no weakling—its level was high, and it had been trained well—it simply couldn't contend with Slaking's overwhelming power and monstrous 670 base stat total.
Worse still, Ampharos's speed was naturally low, and on the slick ice, its movements were clumsy at best. Once Slaking closed the distance, the result was inevitable.
Tyson silently withdrew Ampharos into its Poké Ball. He reached to his belt and unclipped his final ball—his trump card.
There was no need to guess what was inside. Tyson's signature Pokémon, his pride, his partner from countless battles: Meowth.
But the situation was grim. Gary still had all of his Pokémon intact—none fainted, and none severely injured. For Meowth to face them alone was asking the impossible. Still…
This was the final battle of the Ever Grande Conference. There would be no surrender.
Even if defeat was certain, Meowth deserved the chance to fight until the end.
"Meowth! Prepare for battle!" Tyson shouted, throwing his Poké Ball high.
Flash!
"Meow!"
A Meowth wearing small boots landed gracefully on the icy arena floor.
The crowd roared. Tyson's Meowth had become something of a crowd favorite during this year's Conference.
Unlike a Pikachu or Eevee, Meowth was rarely seen at such a high competitive level, and Tyson's had proven itself against incredibly strong opponents. Its speed, precision, and cunning had carried Tyson through multiple rounds.
Gary eyed Meowth carefully. He wished he could use his Eye of Insight to see the Pokémon's exact stats, but that ability only worked on wild Pokémon or those without a trainer.
Still, from watching its battles, Gary suspected Meowth had a rare and powerful ability—perhaps something akin to a Technical Master skill set.
After all, how else could it have fought toe-to-toe with Pikachu?
"Meowth, Double Team!" Tyson ordered immediately.
"Meow~!"
"Meow!"
"Meeeoow!"
In an instant, Meowth's body split into more than ten identical images, darting across the ice in a blur. The illusory clones moved with such synchronization that it was impossible to tell the real one from the fakes.
Gary's face remained calm.
"Slaking—Yawn."
"Aaaaaahhh~!"
Slaking let out a deep, slow yawn that reverberated across the field. He didn't care which Meowth was real—if the real one saw or heard the yawn, it would feel the wave of drowsiness.
Tyson froze for half a second. He'd forgotten about Slaking's deceptively simple but devastating tactic.
"Meowth, Thunderbolt!" Tyson barked quickly.
"Myaaaah!"
Every clone leapt forward, discharging crackling bolts of electricity.
"Takk!"
The strikes landed hard—Slaking had already taken repeated electrical hits from Ampharos earlier, and now the Elite-level Meowth's Thunderbolt was pushing his endurance to the edge.
Gary, still composed, recalled Slaking in one swift motion.
"Come back."
Meowth blinked, then swayed slightly on his feet.
"...Meow…"
The drowsiness took hold. Within seconds, Meowth collapsed onto the ice, fast asleep. The illusions vanished instantly, fading like mist.
"Gardevoir. Time to finish this." Gary sent out his next Pokémon, and with a flash of light, the elegant Psychic-type appeared, her gown-like body gliding above the icy surface.
"Calm Mind—again and again," Gary ordered.
Tyson's eyes widened. "What?!"
But Gardevoir had already closed her eyes, hands delicately crossing over her chest. A faint aura shimmered around her as her mind sharpened and her psychic power swelled.
"Meowth! Wake up! Wake up!" Tyson's voice cracked with urgency.
But Meowth lay peacefully, tail twitching faintly in sleep. After so many consecutive days of battles, Pokémon were exhausted—physically and mentally. Without a sharp external shock, it was rare for one to wake mid-slumber.
Gardevoir completed her second Calm Mind. Then her third. By now, her psychic and special defense power had reached terrifying levels.
Gary's eyes narrowed. "That's enough. Aura Sphere—full power."
The elegant Psychic-type extended her hands, energy swirling between them. In seconds, a sphere of brilliant blue light condensed and shot forward with blinding speed.
"This could end it right here!" the announcer's voice rang across the stadium.
Tyson's heart pounded. "Meowth! WAKE UP!"
BOOM!
The Aura Sphere struck, smoke and ice shards exploding into the air.
When the haze cleared, Meowth's small body lay on the ice, chest heaving.
"Meow!"
Somehow—somehow—he was still conscious, though barely. His fur was scorched, and every movement looked painful.
Gary tilted his head slightly. "Still standing, huh? Impressive."
Tyson crouched down slightly, voice gentle. "Meowth… can you still fight?"
"Meow!!"
The cry was fierce, but everyone—Gary, Tyson, the crowd—could tell the little cat was running on pride alone.
"Then let's give it our all," Tyson said quietly. "Thunderbolt!"
"Meeeow!"
Meowth's body sparked violently, a golden current racing down his tail before exploding outward into a jagged bolt aimed directly at Gardevoir.
Gary raised his hand. "Psychic—catch it."
"Voooir!"
Gardevoir's eyes flared blue. Invisible psychic energy enveloped the Thunderbolt midair, holding it suspended. The air crackled with tension as electricity fought against psychic pressure.
"Myaaaah!" Meowth cried, pouring every last drop of strength into the attack. The bolt flared brighter, but compared to Pikachu's devastating Thunderbolt, it was still lacking.
Gardevoir's Psychic shattered the attack like glass—and surged forward toward Meowth.
WHAM!
The impact sent the small Pokémon flying backward. He hit the arena wall with a dull thud and slid down, motionless. No cry. No twitch.
The stadium fell silent.
"Meowth is unable to battle. Gardevoir wins!" the referee declared, voice ringing through the still air. "All of Tyson's Pokémon have been defeated! The winner… is Gary Oak!"
It was over.
Gary Oak had won the Ever Grande Conference Championship—without losing a single Pokémon the entire tournament. The first perfect victory in the competition's history.
For a moment, the silence hung in the air—then the crowd exploded.
"Is this guy even human?!"
"No way! He didn't lose a single Pokémon!"
"This is insane! It'll be a hundred years before anyone else pulls this off!"
"This Conference was the best ever—Gary's a legend! My bets all hit!"
Up in the VIP boxes, Hoenn League officials exchanged stunned glances. The League's own sports lottery had taken heavy payouts from those betting on Gary's win streak and records—few had expected the young trainer to pull it off so decisively.
After the match, Gary and Tyson both made their way to the Pokémon Center. They handed their partners to Nurse Joy for treatment, quiet respect passing between them.
A few moments later, Ash, May, Brock, and Max rushed inside.
"Gary! Congratulations on the championship!" Max beamed. "And Tyson—congrats on the runner-up spot!"