AN: While reading the previous chapter, I saw a small issue that I have corrected. Sorry for the mistake. I also redesigned Roshi's character in the earlier chapters. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
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Still winded, and with dust in his lungs and covering his clothes and hair, Ash cradled the limp and unconscious form of Eevee in his arms. Placing his shaky hands near Eevee's chest, he relaxed and exhaled after he felt the beat of his heart.
"Eevee..."
"Pikapi!"
Ash looked as Pikachu approached from Flint's side and stood by him, looking at Eevee with concern.
Pikachu's ears drooped as he stepped closer, nose twitching at the dust clinging to Eevee's fur. He let out a soft, worried chirp and glanced up at Ash, as if asking what they were going to do.
Ash swallowed, his throat raw. "He fought so hard, buddy…" His voice cracked, and he pulled Eevee a little closer before reaching for the Poké Ball at his belt.
A shadow fell over them as Flint stood behind them with a sombre smile on his face.
Narrowing his eyes at Flint, Ash asked, "What?"
"You and your Eevee lasted longer than I expected. The fact that both Brock and you found loopholes to exploit in your first-ever Survival battle surprises me. I did help him a little over the past few days to get to this format. Nice throw by the way."
Looking at Brock, who was now looking at his Rhyhorn and going over its injuries as well, Ash turned back to Eevee and replied while returning him to his ball in a red light, "I have been practising my throw techniques for Poké Balls with stones before leaving Pallet. Never thought that I would require it in such a way."
"An unexpected, but welcome use of practicality. Normally, you guys start immediately with the next bout, but as it is the first one, take your time. You have to send out a Pokémon, so don't waste time. You still have to defeat Rhyhorn..."
"About that..." Brock approached them with Rhyhorn limping as he came to their side.
The rest of the occupants turned to Brock, and Flint raised an eyebrow as if to ask what he meant by that.
With a gravely serious voice, he replied to his father, "I would like to return my Rhyhorn."
Flint asked with a grave tone as well, "You do know that as the Gym Leader, you will not be able to use Rhyhorn anymore, right?"
Brock nodded as Ash looked on in shock, "That's right. Rhyhorn is hurt badly, and I do not want to aggravate his injuries anymore."
Flint snorted, "Smart choice. At least you know when to pull out an injured Pokémon. There are times when you might not be able to return your Rhyhorn when he is injured, like today, and you have to fight. What will you do then?"
Brock stood and looked at his father in the eye, "Get stronger."
Flint gave a nod of approval.
Ash asked with concern and with a wince, "How is he?"
Turning to look at Rhyhorn's injured eye for a few beats before returning him, Brock said in a calm tone, as if holding something back, "He will be fine after getting treated, but I am not happy that he was injured like that. Do not expect to win, as we will come for you."
Narrowing his eyes at Brock, Ash replied while thinking about Eevee, "So will we."
After looking at them for a few moments, Flint started going back to his referee's place and spoke, "You two should get back to your positions and send out your next Pokémon."
Pikachu padded back to Flint's side, tail flicking, while Ash and Brock returned to their marks. Dust still hung in the air between them, catching the light like drifting embers.
The Gym battle continued.
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The field was quiet but for the soft crunch of boots on grit. Dust still drifted in the air, glowing in the harsh light like sparks before a storm. Ash tightened his grip on the Poké Ball. Eevee's bruises still burned in his mind — he couldn't let the same happen again. Not this time. Brock's hand hovered near his own while thinking about his Rhyhorn's condition. Neither looked away.
Flint's voice shattered the silence. "Trainers—send out your next Pokémon!"
Both of them sent out their penultimate Pokémon for this match. The white light from the thrown Poké Balls expanded and coalesced to form the Pokémon...
"Geodude vs Buttefree! Begin!"
The PokéDex identified the brownish-grey boulder Pokémon, which had bulging, rocky eyebrows, trapezoidal eyes with brown pupils, and a wide mouth and its arms were muscular with five-fingered hands.
"Geodude, the Rock Pokémon. A Rock/Ground dual-type Pokémon. Geodude is proud of its sturdy body and will bash against others of its kind in a contest of sorts to prove whose body is harder. The longer it lives, the more chipped and worn its body becomes. Long-lived Geodude are completely smooth and round, and they have a calm demeanour. However, Geodude's heart remains rugged and tough, no matter what. Geodude can be most often found on mountain trails and fields, with a scholar counting about 100 of them on just one route. Geodude uses its arms to climb steadily up steep mountain paths. It will sit still in these areas, which is why it is often mistaken for a rock. It is often stepped on and will sometimes swing its arms in anger when this occurs. When Geodude sleeps deeply, it buries itself halfway into the ground. Once buried, it will not awaken even if someone steps on it. In the morning, Geodude rolls downhill in search of food."
Brock watched Butterfree's antennae twitch, and his wings scatter the gym lights in a shimmer of powdery motes, and he made an observation that made him question something before filing it away in his mind to concentrate on the battle as Flint spoke.
"Begin!"
Why did the Butterfree's shape seem a bit bloated than before?
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"Rollout!"
Geodude tucked its arms in tight, the muscles in its rocky shoulders flexing as it began to spin. The first rotation was slow, a grinding scrape of stone against the gouged gym floor. Then it picked up speed — faster, tighter — until it was a blur of jagged rock and dust, the sound deepening into a low, hungry roar.
Each impact with the ground sent a shiver through the floorboards beneath Ash's boots. Chips of stone spat out from under Geodude's path, rattling against the walls. The dust cloud it kicked up trailed behind like the tail of a comet, obscuring its exact line until it was almost on top of you.
Brock's voice cut through the rumble. "Keep building speed!"
Geodude obeyed, banking hard, the centrifugal force making its spin wobble just enough to feel unpredictable. Each turn churned the air into gritty spirals that clawed upward, tugging at anything above.
Butterfree fought through it, wings hammering in sharp, uneven bursts, scattering dust in glittering arcs with every beat. The turbulence kept trying to drag it sideways into the boulder's path, but it rolled its body with the pull, riding one swirl just long enough to sling itself higher. Below, the rolling mass never lost the line, tracking Butterfree's shadow across the floor like a predator scenting blood.
"Butterfree, String Shot — throw!"
Butterfree banked hard, keeping just outside the lethal arc of Geodude's spin. Silk lanced downward, not toward the boulder Pokémon, but toward the jagged chunks of stone littering the floor from the last bout. The threads stuck fast, and with a sharp pulse of psychic light in its eyes, Butterfree yanked.
The debris lifted in a stuttering rise, caught in the same swirling currents that clawed at its wings. Then, with a mental shove, Butterfree hurled them into Geodude's path.
The first rock clipped its side with a sharp crack, throwing sparks. The second struck square on, shattering into grit that sprayed across the gym floor. Geodude's spin wobbled, the hungry roar of Rollout faltering for a heartbeat.
Narrowing his eyes further than what was considered possible, Brock called out with dead calm seriousness, "Dig."
Instead of answering, Geodude kicked upward in a short, brutal hop and came down like a meteor. The impact cracked the floor, the spin never slowing — if anything, it screamed faster, grinding into the earth. Dirt and jagged stone erupted in all directions, pelting the walls and rattling against Ash's boots, chipping his hands and clothes.
Ash shielded his eyes while Brock just kept his eyes narrowed and moved a little to the back to escape the onslaught. The shockwave punched upward, clawing at Butterfree's wings and dragging it toward the churning pit Geodude was carving into the gym floor while pelting him with stones.
After a few moments, the pelting of stones and dirt stopped, with Ash and Butterfree looking at the spot to find a hole dug there.
Ash's gaze swept the battlefield. The gouged tiles and scattered debris gave Geodude a dozen places to re‑emerge. He and Butterfree began to circle, never staying in one spot for more than a heartbeat, feet and wings shifting in a restless dance.
Somewhere beneath them, faint and muffled, came the grinding rumble of stone on stone.
Suddenly...
With a sharp crack and a spray of grit, the floor of the gym erupted in a booming roar of stone, and Geodude came out speeding at an angle towards Buttferfree, leaving pebbles clattering across the floor and the echoes reverberating in the gym. Butterfree barely dodged out of the way with a flap of his wings, and being a good distance away from the exit point of Geodude's dig.
As Geodude sailed past him, Butterfree used Confusion on it. The special psychic force attack slammed into Geodude like an invisible hammer, its spin warping mid‑air before the momentum hurled it toward the wall.
Geodude hit the wall with a bone‑deep crack, the sound ricocheting through the gym. Fractures spider‑webbed from the impact point as chunks of rock tumbled free — and then the boulder Pokémon was gone, burrowing into the stone under the stunned eyes of Ash and Butterfree.
Ash's stomach dropped. His gaze swept the gym's walls, tracing every seam and shadow, his mind flashing back to the squat, stone‑walled building he'd seen from outside. Everything here was solid rock — thick enough for a Pokémon Geodude's size to tunnel through with ease.
Every wall, every corner, every slab of stone was now a possible breach point.
Ash turned to look at the smug visage of Brock. Scowling at the situation, Ash turned back to see if it was possible to find the Geodude before it emerged.
Great. No luck. Thinking for a few moments, he gave an order to Butterfree while pointing to a spot.
"Butterfree, stay in the centre of the room! Somewhere right there! In the air!"
Raising an eyebrow, Brock tracked Butterfree's slow ascent to the centre of the room, its wings beating in short, deliberate bursts to hold position where the diagonals met. The powdery shimmer from its scales drifted down in lazy spirals, catching the harsh gym light.
His gaze narrowed. The shape was wrong — the abdomen too full, the body carrying itself with a faint heaviness. Had it gorged itself before the match? Or worse, was it injured and forcing itself to fight? The second thought made his jaw tighten.
That wasn't determination. That was recklessness.
His scowl deepened, the decision already forming. If Ash wouldn't protect that Butterfree, then Brock would end this quickly — for its sake.
Silence stretched on for moments, when Butterfree picked up a faint sound, and Ash felt something small fall on his head. Looking up, they saw the cracks on the ceiling that had formed up there when Rhyhorn had used Smack Down for the first time in the previous round. The small piece of stone had fallen from there.
The ceiling cracked and split downwards to reveal Geodude coming for Butterfree.
"DOWN!"
"Thunder Punch!"
Geodude uncurled mid‑air, the spin bleeding into a forward lunge. Quartz veins and metallic ores in its right arm ground under sudden compression, each jolt forcing a sharper discharge of the static built up from its rapid rotation. The crystal structures strained, then flared — arcs of electricity snapping and crawling across its knuckles.
The air prickled against skin and scale alike, the sharp tang of ozone cutting through the dust. Geodude's fist drew back, the charge hissing louder with every heartbeat, before it came crashing down toward its target.
Butterfree's wings hammered once, twice, Gust tearing a narrow corridor through the grit‑choked air. It dropped fast, accelerated by his extra weight, skimming the floor, the electric fist passing just above in a crackling blur.
"Flamethrower!"
Widening his eyes at the command, Ash shouted desperately, "PULL!"
Belonging to the Mineral egg group, Geodude took a deep breath before closing its mouth and exhaling air laced with sulfur, coal, magnesium, and other such flammable materials through a small opening in its mouth. The air passed above the crackling Thunder Punch arm before a blinding flash — a sharp whump as the air itself seemed to catch fire, the heatwave hitting before the flames did.
Butterfree, from his training instincts as a Caterpie and Metapod, used String Shot to snag a rock, used Confusion on the string and pulled himself out of the Flamethrower's immediate range. Geodude turned to continue the attack on him, but Butterfree had righted himself and was using Gust, along with flapping his wings to get out of the attack.
Geodude followed Butterfree's path and nearly singed Ash, who had to dive and run away from the attack as it nearly burnt the edges of his hair. After the attack had ended and his life was no longer in danger of being burned alive, the only thoughts going through his head were that Butterfree was okay and in the fight, and that he was glad to remember to give his hat to Yellow before the challenge had started.
Tsk. Reckless. If Ash wouldn't end this, then he would. Brock thought before giving the order again, "Geodude, use Dig!"
As Geodude had gone underground, and Brock was looking at them, Ash and Butterfree looked at each other and nodded.
Time to put the plan into motion.
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"String Shot — Web!"
Butterfree's abdomen flexed, the excess water he'd stored that morning lending a heavier, wetter pull to the silk glands. The first threads shot out with a faint snap, glistening in the harsh gym light, and clung greedily to the jagged edges of the holes Geodude had torn into the floor. The moisture made them tacky, almost glue‑like, and each strand sagged only slightly before tightening into place.
Ash darted across the battlefield, boots crunching over grit, eyes scanning for the tell‑tale tremor or shadow that might betray Geodude's next strike. His voice cut through the dust in short bursts — "Left! Higher! Break right!" — each command sends Butterfree banking or climbing just out of reach.
From below, Geodude's assaults came fast and vicious. A sudden eruption of stone heralded a Thunder Punch, arcs of electricity snapping through the air; a heartbeat later, a gout of flame roared upward, heat washing over Butterfree's wings. Even with Ash's warnings, some attacks grazed him — a lick of fire along the edge of a wing, a jolt that made his flight stutter — but he pushed through, eyes narrowing.
Each time Geodude surfaced, Butterfree answered with a sharp pulse of Confusion. The psychic force struck like an invisible hammer, wrenching Geodude's trajectory and slamming him into the walls. Chips of rock flew with every impact, the damage accumulating in hairline fractures and scuffed stone.
Between strikes, Butterfree worked relentlessly, sealing each fresh hole with sticky silk, then lacing the surrounding floor with more threads. His movements grew sharper, faster, as the bloated heaviness in his body eased with every meter of web laid. The air began to fill with the faint, organic tang of fresh silk, mixing with the acrid scent of scorched stone and ozone.
Brock's eyes narrowed. He could see the change — Butterfree's flight was lighter now, more agile, and the webbing was spreading in a pattern that was no accident. His jaw tightened, and his voice snapped out: "Geodude, faster!"
The boulder Pokémon responded with renewed ferocity, tunnelling and striking in rapid succession, forcing Butterfree into tighter evasions.
Meanwhile, Ash stooped to snatch up loose stones scattered across the floor, tucking them into his palm one by one. His gaze never left the shifting battlefield, the growing lattice of silk, and the faint tremors underfoot. The trap was taking shape — and every second they held out, the odds tilted further in their favour.
Butterfree's wingbeats slowed, each motion laboured, his body trembling with exhaustion. But the effort had reshaped the battlefield itself. Sticky silk crisscrossed every surface — clinging to floor tiles, draping the walls, even dangling from the ceiling in thick, ropelike strands. The gym had become a cage, a suffocating jungle of silver threads that caught the harsh lights and shimmered faintly with dust and powder. Ash's boots stuck to the floor with every step, while Brock narrowed his eyes, realising that every tunnel, every escape route, had been closed off.
As there were only a few places left where Geodude could surface, Ash's voice rang out, sharp and decisive.
"Stun Spore — cover the whole field!"
Butterfree's wings shifted into a deeper, heavier rhythm, each beat shaking loose a fresh cascade of golden motes from his scales. The spores poured down in a thick, shimmering cloud, catching the harsh gym lights so that the air itself seemed to glow.
Then, with a sudden surge, Butterfree whipped up a Gust. The wind tore through the battlefield, scattering the spores in wide, swirling arcs. They clung greedily to every sticky strand of webbing, coating the silken lattice in a fine, glittering dust. The walls, the ceiling, even the jagged debris on the floor took on a faint yellow sheen, as if the entire gym had been dipped in pollen.
The air grew heavy with a faint, sweet‑bitter scent — the kind that made your lungs tighten if you breathed too deeply. Each breath carried the subtle sting of something dangerous, a warning that the trap was now more than just physical.
Ash's eyes flicked over the transformed arena. Every path Geodude might take now led through a haze of paralysing powder, every surface a snare waiting to spring.
Beneath the floor, the grinding rumble of stone on stone prowled closer, slower now, as if the hunter below could sense the danger. Tired, Butterfree looked up at the only spot from where Geodude would emerge, the only undug, but cracked spot on the ceiling and everyone else in the gym knew that too.
It needs to be finished now. Everyone thought.
Ash threw the picked-up stones at Butterfree, who caught them using Confusion. Just as Geodude had emerged...
"Flame..."
Butterfree's aim was true — the stones struck Geodude's open mouth with a sharp crack, cutting off the stream of hazardous, flammable breath. The boulder Pokémon's eyes narrowed in fury, but Butterfree was already surging forward, wings beating in a blur, body angled like a spear.
They collided mid‑fall, the impact jarring through the air. Butterfree's psychic energy flared, a violet shimmer rippling from his eyes and antennae, wrapping around Geodude's spinning form. The Confusion hit like an invisible vice, twisting its momentum — but Geodude's right arm was already cocked back, quartz veins sparking violently.
The Thunder Punch landed at the same instant.
The sound was deafening — a thunderclap of stone meeting flesh, the shockwave rattling the cracked tiles underfoot. A blinding burst of white‑blue sparks exploded between them, searing the air and filling the gym with the sharp tang of ozone and scorched dust.
Both Pokémon were flung backwards, their bodies trailing arcs of static as they slammed into the tangled webbing that criss‑crossed the arena. The silk shuddered under the impact, strands snapping in sharp, whip‑like cracks while others held fast, wrapping around limbs and jagged edges of rock.
The Stun Spore‑coated threads burst into golden clouds on contact, the paralytic dust clinging to their bodies and drifting in lazy spirals through the charged air. Tiny motes glimmered against the fading sparks, the whole scene lit in a strange, dangerous glow.
They hung there for a heartbeat — crackling, smouldering, and bound in the sticky lattice — before gravity and exhaustion dragged them down together, the web sagging under their combined weight.
After they had hit the ground, everyone waited for any kind of movement for a period of time. After a few moments, Flint's voice rang out, breaking the silence and giving the verdict.
"With a double knockout, both Geodude and Butterfree have fainted. This round is a draw!"
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AN: Sorry for the late update. How was the chapter? What are your thoughts?