"Tank it."
Ash's expression remained calm as he gave the command. A Thunderbolt of that level—his Champion-class Pikachu wouldn't even flinch.
"Pika!!!"
Just as Ash spoke, the blast of 100,000 volts struck Pikachu head-on. The thunderous surge crackled with raw, violent energy. In nature, few forces rival thunder and lightning in sheer destructive power.
Thunder isn't just powerful—it's fast. A single misstep could mean obliteration, reduced to ash with not even a trace left behind.
"To think… to think this Pikachu can withstand that without flinching," Lt. Surge muttered, narrowing his eyes. "My starter Raichu—Thunder Hill—took over ten years to reach the King-tier…"
Surge had started like any other rookie trainer. His first Pokémon had been a Pichu, who evolved into Pikachu and eventually into this Raichu. It took him decades. In this world, humans had a life expectancy of about 130 years, and Pokémon could live over 300—but even so, reaching King-class was a lifetime's pursuit.
Yet this Ash kid had raised a Pikachu to that level in under ten years—without evolving it.
And if Pikachu was this strong in its unevolved form, what kind of monster would it be if Ash ever chose to let it evolve?
"Raichu, don't let up—Mega Punch!"
Seeing that even Thunderbolt had failed to shake Pikachu, Surge snapped out another command. Raichu's right fist lit with white energy, its bulky frame vanishing in a blur as it lunged across the battlefield.
Despite Raichu's size, the speed was unreal—clearly enhanced by high-level training and conditioning.
"Good speed," Ash remarked coolly. "Pikachu—Agility!"
"Pika~!"
Just as Raichu's Mega Punch was about to connect, Pikachu vanished. A blur of yellow flickered across the field, reappearing a few meters away, completely untouched. The dodge was clean—flawless.
Though Thunderbolt had posed no threat thanks to type advantage and Pikachu's electric absorption, a physical strike like Mega Punch was a different story. Elemental resistance wouldn't help there.
Ash wasn't reckless—if it could be dodged, it should be dodged.
"Rai~! Rai~!"
Raichu charged again, fists flying. With Agility activated, it launched into a flurry of Mega Punches. Shadows of fists filled the space around Pikachu, hammering toward him from every direction.
But Pikachu was unfazed.
He dodged effortlessly, flowing through the storm of punches like water slipping through fingers.
"Unbelievable…" Surge muttered, clenching his fists. "I knew Pikachu was faster than Thunder Hill, but I didn't expect the gap to be this wide. If just one punch could land… Pikachu's physical defense isn't as strong as Raichu's!"
Even as the Electric-type Gym Leader of Vermilion City, Surge was still only in his forties. Compared to true veterans like Bruno or Lorelei, he lacked the deep experience and composure of a true Master.
Then—his eyes widened.
"This is it! Raichu, grab Pikachu with your tail—now!"
At that moment, Pikachu had leapt into the air to evade another punch. It was a small opening, but Surge saw his chance.
Pikachu couldn't fly. Once airborne, it couldn't dodge mid-air. Raichu's long tail whipped forward like a lasso, targeting Pikachu's exposed position!
"Raichu~!" Raichu grinned and flung its tail up, coiling it toward Pikachu with blinding speed.
"No! Ash let his guard down!" Cynthia gasped from the rest area, concern flashing in her eyes.
"Relax," Brock said calmly. "Ash wouldn't make a mistake like that in battle. And don't underestimate Pikachu. He's Ash's very first Pokémon, and with his unique typing, even Suicune would struggle against him."
Ash had handed over his entire Pokémon nutrition plan to Brock for careful oversight. The dietary balance was no joke—overfeeding made Pokémon sluggish and heavy, while underfeeding left them weak and frail. In competitive battling, even diet could be the difference between victory and defeat.
"Cell Activation."
As Brock spoke, Ash gave a slight smile.
Electric sparks flickered across Pikachu's fur mid-air.
"Thunderbolt?" Surge muttered instinctively.
But in the next moment, something completely unexpected happened.
Pikachu stepped through the air.
His body burst forward in a blur, leaving behind only an afterimage as Raichu's tail swept through nothingness.
"Wh-What the hell?!" Surge froze.
Even Cynthia's pupils shrank at the sight. "That speed… Even my Garchomp wouldn't be able to track it—and I'm a Champion!"
"Cell Activation," Brock explained, "is a specialized speed-enhancing technique only Electric-types can learn. Ash developed it specifically for Pikachu, since his physical attack stats were always lower than average."
"So instead of forcing power, Ash trained him to surpass all others in speed."
"But no skill is perfect. Cell Activation trades long-range elemental power for unmatched agility. In this mode, Pikachu has to fight in close combat only."
Seeing Cynthia's stunned expression, Brock calmly pulled out a notebook and began explaining the data he had written down earlier. All of it had come directly from Ash—carefully recorded and passed on to Brock for reference.
In this world, Pokémon techniques—especially rare ones not learned through leveling or TM—are almost never passed down openly.
Inherited skills are prized like hidden treasures, and anyone caught trying to secretly replicate or steal them would face serious consequences.
And behind Ash stood not just one, but two major families—the Ketchum family and the Dragon Clan. With backing like that, no one dared treat his Pokémon lightly.
What Ash didn't know, however, was that several powerful families had already begun secretly plotting to acquire the offspring of his Pokémon—especially the Ketchum and Dragon Clans, both eager to strengthen their own Pokémon bloodlines with these extraordinary genes.
Just imagining the kind of offspring born from those Pokémon—many with moves as visually dazzling and powerful as something from a ninja fantasy—was enough to make trainers and breeders alike drool with envy.
Even Masaki Oak, with all his pride and seniority, couldn't help but feel tempted. He'd love to have a Pokémon like that under his own banner—but he couldn't bring himself to ask directly. After all, to beg for something from a younger generation would be embarrassing, especially with so many eyes watching.
Still, talent was talent—and if those offspring ended up being inherited by future generations, becoming Kings or Champions was just a matter of time.
...
TN:
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