"He blocked it," Jason barely had time to breathe half a sigh of relief—
"Ice Punch!"
Grusha's second command was already out.
In the instant its Night Slash was stopped, Weavile's free left hand had already clenched into a fist. Bitter cold gathered around its knuckles.
Thud!
The punch slammed hard into Jason's side.
"Ghh!"
He let out a muffled groan, stumbling several steps to the left. Looking down, he saw the armor at his waist was caved in, encased in a thick layer of ice.
"This thing…"
For the first time, Jason felt truly cornered.
"I can't keep up with this speed."
And Ice Punch hit like a truck.
Weavile gave him no time to recover. The instant it landed the blow, it blurred back into a black afterimage, circling him at high speed, hunting for another gap.
Shff! Shff! Shff!
Its claws raked in from vicious angles again and again.
"Night Slash!"
"Ice Punch!"
"Slash!"
Under that combo string, Jason was forced back step by step. All he could do was swing both swords defensively—but the wounds piled up.
Three black lines marred his right shoulder where a Night Slash had grazed him. His left knee took a glancing Ice Punch, slowing his movements.
"Jason! Hit back!" Gast stomped anxiously in the rear.
"I can't!" he screamed inside.
"Too fast! With Tailwind up, I can't react to this thing! I can barely defend!"
The flames around his armor had dimmed. Frost and ice spread over his plates, making his movements more sluggish.
"No good—"
He forced Weavile back for a heartbeat, opening a sliver of space.
"Tailwind's about to end. If I just hang on a bit more—no."
He rejected the thought.
"I won't last that long."
He glanced at his arms—fresh cracks lacing the armor.
Time to trade pain for pain.
He made his choice.
"Come on then!"
He deliberately dropped his guard, blades hanging loose, chest wide open.
Weavile's eyes gleamed.
"Night Slash!"
Grusha gave the finishing order.
Weavile became a black streak, claws streaking straight for Jason's heart.
"Now!"
Jason didn't parry.
He twisted his body at the last split second, just enough to avoid a fatal hit.
Shhk!
The claw punched deep into his left shoulder. Black Dark-type energy exploded in the wound.
"Argh!"
He bit back the pain. His left hand shot up, clamping down on Weavile's arm.
Weavile jolted and tried to pull free.
Too late.
"Got you."
His right hand moved—the flaming sword, burning with the last of his fire, came up under Weavile's guard.
"Stay down."
"Bitter Blade!"
Crimson fire erupted at point-blank range, slamming into Weavile's chest.
Fire: super effective on Ice.
"Aaagh!"
Weavile's scream tore the air as flames engulfed its body. Jason let go, and the charred form flew opposite and crashed into the snow, completely still.
"Haa… haa… haa…"
Jason dropped to one knee. The gaping claw wound in his left shoulder belched black smoke; his flames were now just faint embers clinging to his blades.
At that moment, the summit wind suddenly stilled.
The Tailwind currents circling the field vanished.
The strange acceleration around the arena faded at the exact moment Weavile fell.
Still kneeling in the snow, Dark energy still leaking from his shoulder, armor frosted and cracked, his trademark fire reduced to a few flickering sparks on his swords—
"Haa… haa… haa…"
His chest heaved. Three brutal battles back-to-back, plus that last trade of injury for injury, had drained him.
"Jason!" Gast shouted, panicked.
"Jason," Iron Valiant called, "let me take over."
"Hmph," Miraidon rumbled, standing—ready to leap in at any moment.
Jason didn't turn. He braced himself on his good right hand and slowly pushed up to his feet.
Every movement was slow; every shift scraped armor and pulled agony from his shoulder.
"I'm fine."
His voice was hoarse—but steady.
"It's not over."
Across from him, Grusha had already recalled Weavile. He studied Jason's state. The challenger was battered, out of breath.
Grusha still had two Pokémon.
His eyes showed no pity—and no complacency. He unhooked his fourth ball.
"Your will is admirable," he said through his scarf. "But you don't win a battle on will alone."
He threw.
"Cetitan."
Boom—
It landed like a falling iceberg.
A whale-like giant appeared on the field—the same one that had been quietly at Grusha's side on the summit before. Bigger even than Beartic, its pure white hide almost blended into the snow.
Four massive fins held up that colossal bulk. Just by showing up, it exuded crushing pressure.
Grusha's strongest partner.
Jason looked up at the "meat mountain" before him.
He clenched his teeth.
"Screw it. The more desperate it gets, the more you have to swing first."
He couldn't wait.
His stamina was leaking away every second.
He wrung the last scraps of power from his body into both blades. The dim fire flared again—not as fierce as at the start, but still glowing red.
"Bitter Blade!"
He roared and hurled himself at Cetitan with everything he had left.
The twin swords struck its side with a solid clang—
And Jason's face changed for the first time.
It felt less like hitting flesh and more like chopping into waterlogged cotton. The Bitter Blade flared on contact, but its unstoppable firepower fizzled the moment it bit into Cetitan's hide.
The damage was negligible.
Cetitan didn't even flinch. It only lowered its head to look at him with small, calm eyes.
"My Cetitan," Grusha said flatly, answering the question in Jason's mind. "Has Thick Fat."
Thick Fat: halves damage from Fire and Ice moves.
Jason froze. His brain rang.
Crap. He'd almost forgotten.
While he was still reeling, Grusha's next order came.
"Ice Spinner."
Cetitan moved. For something that big, it turned with startling agility, starting to spin.
Whump!
A tornado of ice-laden wind exploded out from its bulk.
Jason was still too close to dodge.
Thud!
He took the spinning blizzard full-on.
"Gah!"
The blow hurled him through the air. Worse, the swirling force scoured away what little fire remained on him. His blades went dark—the flames snuffed out.
"Ice Shard."
Grusha didn't pause. Cetitan opened its mouth and spat a spray of jagged ice chunks that pelted Jason as he hit the ground.
Thud. Thud.
The damage was low—but humiliating.
"Aqua Jet."
Cetitan's body glowed blue; the giant mass turned into a wave and crashed forward.
Jason tumbled, barely rolling aside in time to avoid being flattened.
"Jason! Run! Don't trade hits with it!" Gast screamed. "You can't hurt it!"
Of course he knew.
Braced on his sword, he stood again and glanced at his extinguished blades.
"Fire's no good anymore."
Time for a new strategy.
"If Fire is out… then all I have left is Ghost."
No more frontal slugfest.
He put Ceruledge's agility to use, darting around the field at high speed. Cetitan's bulk was both strength and weakness.
"Ice Spinner!"
Cetitan spun again.
"I dodge!"
Trusting his experience, Jason read the radius and dropped out of the danger zone early.
"Aqua Jet!"
"I dodge again!"
He darted behind chunks of ice and snow, constantly repositioning, hunting for an opening.
"There!"
Catching the lag after a Jet, Jason sprinted out from behind Cetitan's flank. Purple-black energy flared along his right sword.
"Shadow Claw!"
He slashed the blade across its dorsal fin.
"Rooaar!"
Cetitan howled in pain for the first time.
Ghost worked.
"There we go," Jason thought, about to pull back—
"Ice Shard."
Grusha's cold voice cut the moment short. Cetitan's tail flicked; more ice shards flew, drilling into Jason's wounded left shoulder.
"Tsss!"
He sucked in a sharp breath.
It became a drawn-out war of attrition. Cetitan's bulk was monstrous; every hit he landed barely dented it. And after all his earlier battles, Jason's stamina was dangerously low.
Every breath tugged his shoulder wound; every step drained his meager reserves.
"Ice Spinner."
Again.
The spin radius seemed larger this time. Jason tried to backstep clear—but his left leg, still stiff from Weavile's Ice Punch, lagged half a beat.
Wham!
He caught the edge of the spin and was smashed hard into the snow.
"Jason!"
Gast and Iron Valiant shouted together.
Jason lay face-down, motionless. His armor no longer glowed at all.
"Is it over?" Grusha watched the fallen shape.
Jason's consciousness blurred. He felt cold. "Is it… here… it ends?"
"No—I refuse."
"I still… haven't given Liko… her revenge…"
He jammed what was left of his broken left blade into the ice and tried to stand.
He failed.
He could only manage a half-kneel.
"Your will is commendable," Grusha said, lifting his hand. "Cetitan—Aqua—"
"Wait!"
Jason suddenly raised his head and sucked in a breath.
"I've still got one last move."
The dead fire in his eyes rekindled—not red, not purple—but a compressed, pale white.
He smiled.
"Fire damage gets halved, sure."
"But Fire moves aren't only for damage."
He drove that pale flame into his back and legs—not for offense, but for thrust.
"Flame Charge!"
Boom!
His body became a white streak, rocketing forward. His speed spiked.
"Aqua Jet!"
Grusha answered at once.
Cetitan turned to water again, rushing straight at him.
At the very instant their trajectories were about to collide, Jason used the extra burst from Flame Charge to force a midair shift—skimming past the Jet by a hair.
He slipped to Cetitan's side—right at the dorsal fin he'd already hit once.
He poured every last scrap of Ghost power into his right blade.
His figure vanished in the air.
"Phantom Force!"
Cetitan halted—target lost. Grusha's eyes flew wide.
"Above!"
Jason appeared directly over Cetitan's head—every ounce of technique and strength focused into one stroke.
He wasn't aiming at tough hide this time.
He was aiming at the head.
"Stay down!"
The blade hit dead on.
"ROOOAAAR!"
The giant whale let out its loudest, most agonized scream yet. Its huge body shook, then slowly toppled sideways, kicking up a storm of snow.
The battle was over.
Jason dropped from the air like a stone, slamming into the snow. He jammed both swords into the ice, propping himself up half-kneeling.
He was nearly spent.
But he'd beaten Cetitan.
"Jason!"
Gast and Iron Valiant rushed forward to support him.
"Don't."
He croaked, stopping them.
"It's not over yet."
Through the swirling snow he locked eyes on the last man standing.
Grusha stayed where he was. He glanced at the fallen Cetitan, then at Jason, who could barely stay upright. Then he recalled his ace, pocketing the ball.
He lifted his head.
The calm sharpness from before was gone—replaced by a solemn focus he'd never shown.
"You're strong," he said.
It was his highest praise.
"You're the toughest challenger I've ever seen."
"But."
He unhooked the final ball at his waist.
"This is as far as it goes."