"Lost again…" the boy muttered as he quietly recalled his Ivysaur.
"Pay up." Reiji recalled his Pelipper and held out his hand. Two battles had netted him 200,000 Pokédollars—not bad.
"Here's 200,000. I'm fighting you again." Still unwilling to accept it, the boy tossed the money over, pushing for a third match.
"Sure. Send out your Pokémon." Reiji took the 200,000. Another battle was fine by him. Even if he somehow lost, he still had a 100,000 Pokédollar guarantee.
"No. You go first." This time the boy got smarter. If Reiji revealed his Pokémon first, then the boy could decide whether to switch—and nobody could call him out for it.
"Fine." Reiji flicked a Poké Ball and sent out Scyther, his last Pokémon for this set.
"Scyther?" The boy's lips tugged up, barely noticeable. He figured he had this in the bag—his last Pokémon was his starter, his strongest partner: Charizard.
Thud—
"Rooaar—ROOOAR!" Charizard hit the field and let loose, roaring like it owned the whole arena.
"Charizard? Scyther?"
"That's really bad for the Scyther guy."
"Yeah… Scyther into Charizard is rough."
"That damn brat—don't get cocky. You're not guaranteed anything…" The young man who'd lost earlier gritted his teeth when he saw the boy's smug face.
"I'll even give you a chance to switch," the boy announced, dripping with confidence, as if he were being generous. If Reiji swapped and lost, that was on Reiji for "having no sportsmanship."
After all, the boy hadn't switched earlier. If Reiji switched now, it would look shameless.
"No need." Reiji waved lightly. "A real expert doesn't need type advantage." He gestured for the boy to go first.
The crowd erupted at once.
He wasn't switching—and he was giving first move? People stared like they couldn't believe the nerve. If he lost after this, he'd get laughed out of the venue.
"Do win streaks make everyone swell up? That kid earlier, and now this guy…"
"Trainers always do this. A few wins and they start thinking they're invincible."
"Stop yapping. Watch—battle's starting."
"Tch." The boy's face tightened. Reiji had just made him look stupid, and in front of everyone. He didn't want this to drag out. He wanted Scyther down fast, so everyone could see he was still the real deal. "Charizard, Flamethrower!"
"Scyther, take off—speed up and evade." Scyther had already reached Advanced tier. This Charizard was more than manageable.
With Tailwind and Agility stacking its speed higher and higher, Scyther slipped past the Flamethrower with ease. That perception training wasn't for show.
Even Poliwhirl's Water Gun rarely hit Scyther cleanly. Charizard's fire had even less chance.
The moment Scyther cleared the flames, Reiji snapped, "Focus Energy—Acrobatics!"
Acrobatics was a Flying-type physical move with 55 power. If the user held no item, that power doubled. Add the stab, and then a critical hit on top of that—
"Scy!" Scyther curved around the stream of fire, flashed past Charizard on the ground, and its scythes cut once in a clean, bright arc. Charizard slammed to the floor from the blow—it was a critical hit.
"Rrgh!" Charizard forced itself back up, baring its teeth. The hit had bitten deep.
"Charizard, get airborne—Dragon Claw!" the boy barked, finally registering just how fast Scyther was.
On the ground, Charizard couldn't touch it. Slow, heavy swings wouldn't connect. If he wanted to land anything, he had to fight in the air.
But he seemed to forget something: in aerial combat, speed decided everything. Without it, you got hit.
"Scyther—Slash. Take its back." Reiji didn't plan to trade head-on. With a speed advantage, you used it.
"Scy!" Scyther understood. Trading Dragon Claw directly was stupid—Charizard outweighed it by a mile, and a straight clash would be losing value for no reason.
This wasn't an exhibition match. Nobody needed flashy exchanges. Only the win mattered.
Slash-slash-slash—
Scyther darted past Charizard again and again, both scythes rising and falling as it hammered out Slash in rapid succession. Agility was fully stacked, Tailwind kept pushing it, and Charizard could only catch afterimages.
Now Charizard had to deal with scythes carving at its back, then from above, then from below, then from either side—every angle, every heartbeat. Even flying, if it couldn't match Scyther's speed, it could only keep taking hits.
Slash was a Normal-type physical move with 70 power, and it had a higher critical-hit rate than most moves.
After Focus Energy, Scyther's chance to land critical hits rose by two stages.
At +3, that meant a 100% critical-hit rate.
Even if Slash only dealt normal damage, it would still hurt. With guaranteed crits, it was brutal.
But none of that was the real problem.
The real problem was simple: Charizard couldn't hit Scyther. Up in the air, it still couldn't keep up.
Unless—
"Charizard, calm down," the boy shouted. "Watch its movement—wait for a chance to counter!"
Reiji couldn't even be bothered to sigh. Not this again. "Scyther—fly however you want. Make it messy."
This "observe and counter" trick worked because the attacks stayed repetitive. If you endured seven or eight hits, you could read Scyther's route, predict the next pass, then charge one big strike to decide the match.
But Reiji wasn't about to let him have that. If the boy wanted a pattern, Reiji would give him none.
Back in the forest, Scyther trained on irregular obstacle courses with no set routes. Its flight control was smooth and instinctive—experienced, confident, hard to pin down.
"Damn it—Charizard can't see its path at all!" the boy's voice cracked with urgency. Tracking the route wasn't working anymore, and Scyther wasn't even sticking to back attacks.
Once Charizard lost its composure, the hits came from everywhere. In the air, threats existed in three dimensions—up, down, left, right, front, back. There was nothing to pre-read.
"Right—speed. Speed!" The boy's eyes lit up as something clicked. "Charizard—Rock Tomb, then Fire Spin!"
"Not bad," Reiji said with a small grin. "Too bad you figured it out late."
Charizard dropped to the ground at once and stomped hard. Rocks surged up, hanging in the air long enough to box Scyther's movement and force it to check its speed.
The instant Scyther slowed, the flame at Charizard's tail flared violently. A swirling blaze spun outward, and at the same time Charizard spewed a spiraling torrent of fire from its mouth—two Fire Spins roaring together into the air.
"Blaze?" Reiji's eyes narrowed. He'd pushed Charizard into Blaze. The longer it fought, the harder it fire moves hit. Even Reiji found his pulse climbing.
"Scyther—Protect!" he shouted.
"Scy!" Just before the fire swallowed it, Scyther crossed its scythes in front of its body. A pale green barrier flashed into existence, blocking Charizard's furious strike.
It was a wide-area attack, and with rocks hemming it in, Scyther had nowhere to dodge. It had to take it head-on.
"How is that possible…?" The boy stared as the flames dispersed. Scyther still hovered in the air, unscathed—not even a scorch mark. It was hard to believe. Charizard had barely landed a single clean hit the entire fight.
Even his last-ditch countermeasure had done nothing.
But he wasn't giving up. "Charizard, don't you dare lose! One last hit—maximum power Flamethrower!"
"ROOOAR!" Charizard's tail flame surged again. It dragged in a huge breath, chest swelling, then threw its jaws wide and unleashed a colossal pillar of searing fire.
Reiji blinked, genuinely thrown for a second. What was this? Charizard kept getting stronger the longer it fought.
And somehow, the mood had caught him too. The boy was going all-in, and Reiji didn't want to snuff that out—not for the kid, not for the crowd, and not when he'd gotten swept up in it himself.
He raised his voice to match. "Scyther—don't dodge! Maximum-power Slash! Cut through the Flamethrower—finish it!"
"Scy!" Scyther stared into the oncoming inferno. That warning from Swarm didn't matter anymore. It was going to split that fire apart.
"SCYYY!"
With a sharp cry, Scyther drove forward. Its scythes carved a line of defiance straight into the blazing column, slicing the pillar open as it advanced. The blade-path tore through the fire, and then the scythes flashed across Charizard in a single pass—Scyther reappearing behind it.
The Flamethrower died.
Scyther lowered its scythes.
Around the field, people held their breath, waiting for the result to show itself.
"Scy…" Scyther let out a pained cry and dropped to one knee, bracing itself on a scorched scythe.
For a heartbeat, the crowd thought Scyther was the one going down.
Then—
Boom!
"ROAR…!" Charizard roared once, refusing to accept it, and collapsed. The damage had piled up too high. It had been eating hits from start to finish—Blaze had only kept it standing for those last moments.
The arena exploded into noise.
"AHHH! That was insane—Scyther was so cool!"
"Way better than the match over there!"
"That last Slash—unreal! Scyther's incredible!"
"Facing the flames head-on and cutting through—Scyther was amazing!"
"Scyther! Scyther! Scyther!"
Someone started it, and then everyone joined in. The chant spread like a wave until the whole crowd was shouting Scyther's name.
The commotion pulled in even more curious onlookers, people squeezing over to see what was happening. They'd come too late—they'd missed the best part.
"Scyther, remember what I told you?" Reiji walked onto the field and patted Scyther's shoulder, letting it take in the roar of the crowd.
"Scy." Scyther looked around. Everyone was fired up. Everyone was cheering its name.
So this was what Reiji meant.
A higher view. A bigger stage. One peak after another, waiting to be crossed.
And this was only the beginning.
It wanted stronger opponents. It wanted to keep challenging the strong, see a larger world, and become the strongest one standing.
It glanced at the Charizard being recalled. That forest had been too small. Even the leader of the Scyther swarm back there hadn't been much of anything. This—this was what the path to strength looked like.
"Scy." Scyther finally understood. There was a long road ahead.
It had seen footage of regional tournaments—stadiums packed with tens of thousands. That was the real sea of people, and it couldn't wait to meet the opponents there.
"Let's go, Scyther. I'll get you treated." Reiji recalled it into its Poké Ball. He planned to use the local treatment room to handle the burns. The other two Pokémon didn't need it—they were basically unhurt.
"Wait."
Reiji was about to leave when someone stopped him. He turned. It was the boy from the battle.
"You're strong." The boy held out his hand. "A real expert doesn't need type advantage… I'll remember that."
"You did well too. You've raised your Pokémon properly." Reiji shook his hand. A trainer who had three starters wasn't someone you wanted as an enemy, even if you didn't plan on being friends.
"Are you going to the regional tournament?" the boy asked.
"I am." Reiji answered without hesitation.
"Then I'll be looking forward to battling you again." The boy released his grip. He'd looked down on Reiji at first, assuming common Pokémon meant a weak trainer. His mindset needed fixing.
On a battlefield, you didn't underestimate anyone—whether their Pokémon could evolve or not, whether you had type advantage or not.
"Same here." Reiji said goodbye and walked off. Nobody blocked his path, and nobody dared to try.
When a trainer was on a win streak, picking a fight with them was a bad bet. Most of the time, you'd just lose—and why hand over free money?
Later, while Reiji was getting Scyther treated, a sponsor approached him and invited him to compete. He declined.
He wasn't interested in matches like that—especially some amateur event on a cruise ship. Fairness was hard to guarantee, and he wasn't about to fight tooth and nail for pocket change.
He wasn't short on money.
He still had over 9,000,000 in cash, and more than 100,000,000 in his bank account—enough to last him a long time.
Even after he refused, the sponsor didn't mind. They covered Scyther's treatment fee and gave Reiji a baseball cap with their logo on it.
Everyone understood what that meant. Reiji didn't refuse the cap. It was goodwill, and he could help them with a little exposure—he just wasn't going to wear it.
After that, he headed back with Scyther, fully treated. Battles weren't going anywhere. Three a day was plenty.
He still needed lunch with his Pokémon, and he wanted time to play with Mudkip and that silly bird. He wouldn't battle in the afternoon.
If the others wanted training, they'd have to do it in their dreams.
[End of chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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