Lucas was deep in thought, his mind sinking into layers of contemplation. Yet the faint sound of approaching footsteps from behind gently broke through his train of thought.
A delicate fragrance drifted softly through the night air, carried along with the steps. In the next moment, a light jacket was draped gently across Lucas's shoulders, carrying with it a warmth that contrasted against the coolness of the evening breeze.
"The night wind is chilly. It would be better for you to wear something over your shoulders."
The tender, melodious voice of a woman fell softly into his ears, like moonlight spilling into a quiet room.
Lucas raised his brows ever so slightly. He turned around and, with a fluid motion, reached out his hand to gently hold the slender palm that had just placed the jacket upon him.
What greeted his sight was a figure that could captivate anyone at a glance.
Golden, wavy hair cascaded down freely all the way to her waist, shimmering faintly under the dim glow. Her face was exquisitely beautiful—so flawless it seemed almost unreal, every line of her features refined as if carved by the heavens themselves.
Beneath her long lashes, her clear, luminous eyes seemed to glimmer with a subtle glow, as if reflecting starlight. She wore a soft pink nightgown, simple yet elegant, which outlined her graceful silhouette and only added to her ethereal charm.
It was none other than Ilene.
"Did you hear the conversation I had with my father just now?"
Lucas gently rubbed the soft, delicate hand in his palm, the hand that felt bonelessly tender to the touch.
Under the silver moonlight, his gaze fell upon Ilene's faintly flushed cheeks. His tone was quiet, almost like a murmur, carrying with it an undercurrent of curiosity.
"Mhm," Ilene nodded honestly, her long lashes trembling slightly. "Because I saw you standing on the balcony, I went to fetch a jacket. And when I came back, I happened to overhear some of it."
She had not intended to eavesdrop, but she also did not attempt to conceal the truth. What she heard was not everything—just fragments, beginning roughly from the part where he mentioned Team Rocket.
But Ilene did not think much of it. Team Rocket, the League—such organizations and the struggles tied to them were far too distant from her world.
For Ilene, questions of political stance or factional alignment simply did not matter.
Of course, she was aware that Team Rocket's reputation was far from pleasant, especially with the recent SS Anne incident and the disaster in Celadon making their infamy spread even further.
"Do you truly not have any particular thoughts about this?" Lucas asked softly, studying her reaction.
Ilene lifted her eyes toward him, a playful glimmer flashing within them. She blinked slowly, then curved her lips into a faint yet warm smile.
"Mm-hmm~ No matter what your true identity is, no matter what ambitions you harbor, or whatever it is you intend to do, all that is required of me is simply to wait here at home for your safe return, isn't that so?"
And then, her voice grew even softer, her cheeks glowing with a rosy hue as she whispered with tender conviction:
"Because… you are my future husband."
Lucas could not help but laugh gently. His arm extended, and he slowly drew the beautiful queen before him into his embrace.
This kind of woman—one who would wholeheartedly support every choice he made, who stood unwaveringly behind his path—was exactly the kind of companion he needed.
Ilene rested her cheek against Lucas's chest. The faint fragrance of tobacco clung to his clothes, seeping into her senses. Her heartbeat quickened wildly, as though it wished to leap out from her chest.
The distance between them had vanished—they were closer than ever before.
For Ilene, this was the first time she had ever been so intimately close to a man. Yet she did not feel rejection. On the contrary, she found herself liking it… perhaps more than she expected.
------------------------------------
Far away, in the Unova Region, inside the conference room of the League headquarters in Vertress.
"Are we just going to sit back and allow that man to roam freely across our region as he pleases?"
The question was raised by an elderly councilor with greying hair. His expression was marked with deep displeasure, his brows furrowed so tightly they looked carved into his skin.
"This is the Unova Region!" he said with force, his voice echoing. "Not Indigo!"
"And so, what if it isn't Indigo? What exactly do you intend to do about it?"
A young man dressed in a formal black tailcoat, his demeanor carrying the aloof elegance of a medieval aristocrat, smirked disdainfully. His lips curled into a mocking sneer as he directed his words toward the elder.
Oh, how bold his words sounded now—why hadn't he dared say them when that man himself was standing right before them?
This young man was none other than Grimsley, one of Unova's Elite Four, a specialist in Dark-type Pokémon.
"Such insolence, Grimsley! Protecting the Unova Region has always been the responsibility entrusted to you, the Elite Four!" the elder snapped angrily.
"Ah, my apologies then," Grimsley replied lazily, his voice dripping with irony. "But Lance of the Blackthorn Clan entered our region through proper legal channels. He is here under official clearance. We have no legitimate grounds to stop him."
Yes, it was true—defending the region was indeed the sworn duty of the Elite Four.
But Lance Blackthorn had applied and entered lawfully. The Elite Four had no pretext to reject or expel him.
Besides…
Who would even dare try?
Would he, Grimsley, take on that role? Or perhaps Alder?
Grimsley's sharp eyes slid toward Alder, the once-great Champion seated nearby. Alder, strong and burly as he still appeared, had already seen his prime slip away. In his youth, perhaps he might have had the strength to clash against Lance.
But ever since Alder's most trusted ace Pokémon had died, his heart as a Champion had cracked, leaving him riddled with doubt. His power, too, had declined year after year.
Now, he had fallen to the level of a mid-tier Champion at best. To send him out against Lance? To pit his Volcarona against Lance's Dragonite?
That would only end with Alder being utterly crushed, beaten without mercy.
It was humiliating to admit, but letting Lance wander their region freely did indeed make the Unova League appear weak and powerless. And deep down, every single one of them knew why Lance had come.
But so, what?
Indigo's arm was far too strong—Unova had no strength with which to resist.
"Enough," the Unova Chairman finally cut in sharply, seated at the head of the chamber. His tone was firm, carrying both authority and weariness. "Lance has come here to help us resolve the crisis of Team Plasma. Do not make fools of yourselves with petty complaints that will only make us a laughingstock in the eyes of others."
The meeting was thus concluded. One by one, the officials filed out of the room, until only Alder remained behind, seated in silence.
"Alder… what do you think?"
The League Chairman's eyes turned toward him, filled with helplessness.
Unova today…
It was far too weak. Its strength was dwindling year after year. Alder was increasingly unable to carry the weight of the Champion's mantle. And as for the Elite Four?
Marshal, the Fighting-type specialist, had already reached the limits of his potential. Grimsley, though powerful, was far too unrestrained and unreliable. Shauntal cared only for her own world of stories, and the last of the Four was little more than a stand-in.
If even the Elite Four were in such a state, what hope did Unova truly have for its future?
A new Champion was desperately needed—someone capable of uniting the Elite Four once again.
"I've already found a few promising candidates," Alder admitted, arms crossed, eyes closing as he shook his head. "But they still need time."
He knew the truth better than anyone: Lance's forceful intrusion into Unova was solely to take their legendary dragon.
Everyone knew it.
And what difference was that, truly, from trampling all over Unova's dignity?
But what choice did they have? They could not refuse.
Alder's heart had never healed from the death of his strongest partner. Because of that, he could no longer shoulder the future of Unova.
Yet even after all these years, he had still not found a worthy successor to inherit his title.
"This year… perhaps it will finally be possible," Alder murmured. "Those few children—yes, they are exceptional. The disciples raised by Drayden are more than capable of inheriting my position. And those two young girls—they, too, will surely grow into new members of the Elite Four."
------------------------
Meanwhile, as Unova's high council continued their discussions within the League building in Opelucid City—
Lance was already soaring high above Victory Road, astride the wings of his Aerodactyl.
"The Black Dragon may already have been taken away," he muttered coldly, "but no one is more suited to it than I am!"
"So long as I defeat the current trainer of the Black Dragon, Zekrom may still acknowledge me in turn!"
His crimson hair whipped fiercely in the rushing wind. Standing tall upon the fossil Pokémon's back, his sharp gaze swept over the barren landscape below.
He needed the Black Dragon. With it, he could stand as an equal against Lucas and his White Dragon.
This place, once the old headquarters of the Unova League, had long since been abandoned after the relocation to Opelucid City.
But according to intelligence reports, Team Plasma's trail had vanished somewhere here along Victory Road. And so, Lance had come personally to investigate.
"The aura of dragons… and many other Pokémon as well… all hidden underground."
Releasing both his innate Dragon Force aura and the energy of the Viridian Power, Lance lowered his gaze to the ground. The power fed back to him in certainty: this land might appear desolate, but the Pokémon energy beneath it did not lie.
They were hiding below.
Then he would drag them out.
"Dragonair—Dual Draco Meteor!"
Without hesitation, Lance hurled two Poké Balls high into the air.
Two Dragonair burst forth, their serpentine bodies coiling majestically. With synchronized cries, two concentrated Dragon Meteors shot skyward, exploding into a storm of blazing orbs.
It was the Combat Technique of the Dual Dragons!
The sky rained fire as meteoric draconic stars fell like an endless barrage of miniature comets. The ground quaked under the relentless bombardment.
A carpet of destruction unleashed by Draco Meteor.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
The earth split and trembled. And in the midst of the devastation, a titanic structure slowly rose from below, towering higher and higher.
It was the Castle of the King—N's Castle!
"So, it truly was hidden here all along," Lance muttered, his eyes narrowing, his red hair whipping violently in the storm. "Hmph! The useless fools of the Unova League. To think an evil organization has been hiding right under their noses, and yet they failed to notice!"
Pathetic incompetence.
What had once been the League's headquarters had become the lair of villains, and still the League had remained blind. If that was not weakness, then what was?
The gates of the castle opened.
Out stepped N, accompanied by Ghetsis.
"That man… is Lance of the Blackthorn Clan?" Ghetsis's face darkened, his expression twisted with gloom. Ever since their disastrous defeat outside Castelia City, Team Plasma had been all but destroyed.
Their losses were severe. Countless elite members had been captured, the entire Genesect army had been taken away by Colress, and in essence, Team Plasma's very foundation had been shattered.
Only N and Zekrom remained intact.
Thus, Ghetsis had been forced to retreat into hiding, to bide his time. He had not expected anyone to storm their stronghold now.
And yet, here stood Lance—the Champion of Kanto himself!
Damn him!
"Hand over the Black Dragon," Lance commanded coldly. His Aerodactyl swooped forward slightly, his imposing form looming high above. His voice rang with sharp authority. "You are unworthy to possess it."
So direct. So absolute.
He could already sense it—the thick, unmistakable aura of dragons radiating from N's body. That kind of presence was not something any ordinary Dragon-type trainer could possess.
Hearing his words, both N and Ghetsis instantly understood his intent.
He had come to seize Zekrom!
"Zekrom is my partner," N declared firmly, his voice resonant. "I will never surrender it to anyone!"
For N, Zekrom was not just a Pokémon. It was the very embodiment of his ideals. Even if it were not, he still would never hand over his trusted partner.
"Just you?" Lance sneered, his lips twisting into a cruel grin. "A mere leader of a so-called evil organization—what right do you have to claim the Black Dragon Zekrom as your own?"
His words dripped with scorn, unrestrained arrogance filling every syllable.
"I will say this only once more—hand over the Black Dragon. Otherwise…"
"Today, I will raze your entire Team Plasma to the ground!"
At his command, a mighty Dragonite appeared, its wings flaring wide as it hovered at his side. Lance's cold gaze swept across N, Ghetsis, and the countless Plasma grunts massed behind them.
His voice, sharp and merciless, cut through the howling wind.
He had no patience for rats lurking in the sewers. And he certainly did not fear N.
Yes, he had once been defeated by Lucas's Reshiram—but not everyone was Lucas.
This N before him was nothing more than a mid-level Champion-tier trainer. Even with Zekrom at his side, Lance did not feel the slightest hint of fear.
For in truth, N's own ability as a trainer was insufficient. He could never fully draw out Zekrom's true might. Under his command, Zekrom was hardly more than a wild beast—powerful, but wasted.
Today, Lance would claim Zekrom for himself, no matter the cost.
"Arrogant fool!"
Ghetsis's face turned pale with rage. The sheer audacity of the man!
One person alone, daring to boast that he would annihilate all of Team Plasma?
They had heard of Indigo's Champion Lance—his arrogance was infamous. But witnessing it firsthand today, Ghetsis realized the truth was even more outrageous than the rumors.
"Zekrom!"
N slowly lifted his hand. His usually vacant eyes sharpened, filled now with determination.
"ROOOAR!"
The earth-shaking cry of a dragon split the heavens.
From the skies descended a colossal black dragon, its body radiating lightning, crashing down heavily before N with overwhelming might.
The Black Dragon, The Dragon of Ideals Zekrom!
And so, the battle was about to begin.
(End of Chapter)