Edie's heart raced as he stared at the boy in front of him. The opponent looked far more confident than Edie would have liked: he wore a worn denim jacket, a red cap tilted to the side, and a T-shirt with a Pokéball print. The boy spun the Pokéball in his hand with lazy circular motions, almost as if warming up for a show.
The Rookie Tournament hadn't drawn much of a crowd. Most battle enthusiasts preferred the main arenas, where renowned trainers fought at the highest level. The rest of the festival's audience was scattered—watching concerts, trying food stalls, or enjoying cultural events that only came around every so often.
Before transmigrating into this world, Edie had believed that Pokémon battles were the greatest craze in existence. And in some ways, they were. But the truth was more nuanced than the games or the anime had ever shown him. Battles were important, yes, but they competed with festivals and cultural shows—rare events that people tended to value more than small competitions.
Another striking difference: here, trainers and their Pokémon were treated as elite athletes. Reaching the quarterfinals of a major tournament like the Pokémon League meant sponsorships, interviews, and invitations to professional teams. It all made sense, though it still surprised Edie.
But today, none of that mattered. Today would be his first official battle.
He and Houndour had already been crushed countless times by Alyssa and Noir in training sessions—battles that felt more like torture than practice. Even so, Edie had never considered those "real" fights. Alyssa was too strong. Too strong in a way that made him wonder if any rookie could stand a chance against her.
Ane had once mentioned that Alyssa was the top trainer of her year at the Pokémon Academy, earning the right to enter the League immediately upon graduation. Yet she had been denied because she only had two registered Pokémon at the time. Alyssa had shrugged it off, saying playing drums and singing mattered more to her back then than catching monsters.
Edie shook his head, focusing back on the present. The referee stepped into the center of the makeshift arena, explaining the rules: a 1v1 battle. The fight would end when one Pokémon fainted or a trainer surrendered. Simple—at least in theory.
He tightened his grip on Houndour's Dusk Ball. The referee finished the explanation, nodded to both trainers, and stepped back. Edie returned the gesture. The boy in the red cap did the same.
The whistle blew.
Two Pokéballs were thrown high. In a flash, Houndour emerged, growling fiercely, already poised for battle. Opposite him stood the opponent's Pokémon: a chubby Pikachu, whose round eyes held more innocence than malice.
For a second, Edie blinked, thrown off by how oddly cute his opponent looked. But he shook the thought away.
— Houndour, Fire Fang!
Houndour shot forward like a bullet, flames spilling from his jaws, scorching orange and yellow.
The opposing trainer widened his eyes but recovered quickly:— Pikachu, Quick Attack to dodge! Then Iron Tail!
Pikachu vanished in a flash of white, reappearing to the right just before Houndour's flaming bite snapped shut on empty air. The little mouse streaked forward, tail glowing metallic silver.
Edie reacted instantly:— Houndour, down!
Houndour hit the ground hard, and Pikachu's glowing tail cut through the air above him like a blade. The dog flinched at the near miss, ears twitching back.
— Now, Flamethrower to the right!
Houndour spun his head and unleashed a scorching jet of fire, sweeping the area.
— Pikachu, evade! — the other boy yelled.
But Pikachu was too close. The flames clipped part of its body, blasting it back across the arena.
Houndour lunged forward, ready for the finishing blow, but the opposing trainer shouted desperately:— Pikachu!
Shaking, burned but not broken, the yellow mouse rose again. Its cheeks sparked wildly, eyes blazing with determination. The trainer's lips curved into a relieved smile.
— That's it, Pikachu! Now, Thunderbolt!
The sparks exploded into a massive arc of electricity, streaking straight toward Houndour.
— Dodge left! — Edie commanded.
Houndour sprinted in zigzags, the lightning chasing him like a living serpent, leaving trails of dust in its wake. Edie clenched his fists.
— Keep running! He'll wear out soon!
And he was right. Pikachu's lightning weakened with each passing second, until finally sputtering out.
— Now! — Edie roared.
Houndour dashed in, closing the gap fast. Pikachu gasped for air, body trembling. When Houndour was only a few meters away, the trainer screamed:
— Pikachu, Thunder Wave!
A surge of static spread in every direction.
— Jump! — Edie shouted.
Houndour leapt into the air, avoiding the shock.— Now, Smog!
Thick black smoke erupted from Houndour's maw, swallowing the arena whole.
— Pikachu, get out of there! — the opponent cried, panic bleeding into his voice.
But Edie had already seized the moment.— Track him by scent, Houndour. Don't let him escape!
The next five seconds were filled with silence, broken only by snarls and Pikachu's muffled cries.
When the smoke finally lifted, Pikachu lay unconscious at Houndour's feet.
The referee raised a green flag.— Winner: Edie !
Applause rippled through the small crowd. Edie rushed to Houndour, who stood tall and proud, chest puffed out. He wrapped his arms around the dark hound, receiving a rough, affectionate lick across his face.
From the stands, Alyssa watched, smiling faintly. She wasn't worried. If Edie and Houndour could stand against Noir in training, no rookie here would pose a real threat.
But then her gaze shifted. A chubby boy a few rows ahead sat eating ice cream beside a Smeargle. Her fingers tightened around Noir's Pokéball, while her other hand fiddled with a pink brass knuckle hidden in her hoodie pocket.
The mask covering her lower face was a blessing—it hid the deranged grin stretching across her lips.
— Dante, you bastard… I'll make you regret ever being born.
The words came out smooth, almost melodic. Combined with Alyssa's beautiful voice, the threat could almost be mistaken for a compliment.
A few rows ahead, Dante suddenly shivered, nearly dropping his ice cream. He touched the back of his neck, bewildered by the cold chill running down his spine.