Jason cleared his throat and bounced up from the ground. "Ahem. Alright, alright, tactical warmup's over."
"Full team, listen up: the League HQ is right ahead. We're going in at full speed!"
He gave the order.
"Hmph." Gast turned her head away, but still followed.
Iron Valiant lengthened his stride.
Miraidon once again became a streak of electricity, carrying Jason as it charged toward the massive structure on the horizon.
Paldea Pokémon League Headquarters.
A towering, cloud-piercing building of crystal-white, complex yet solemn. It sat in the middle of a huge lake, symbolizing the highest power in all of Paldea.
They crossed the long approach bridge and arrived before the League's monumental front doors.
The doors slid open automatically as they approached.
Jason didn't rush in. He hopped down from Miraidon's head and took his place at the front of the group.
"Guys, ready?"
"Been ready forever!" Gast hovered at his left, body trembling lightly with excitement. "We finally made it! Jason, hurry up! I'm going to show those Elite Four what real ghostly art looks like!"
After eight gyms, her fighting style had become sharp and polished.
Iron Valiant stood to Jason's right. Silently, he extended his right arm; the blade snapped out. He didn't polish it—just left it active.
The words "Elite Four" and "Champion" were more than enough to light up his battle core.
Miraidon stood behind Jason, radiating legendary majesty. Purple electricity crawled over its armor more frequently than usual. It could feel several strong auras emanating from the building.
That stirred its carefully disguised calm into real fighting spirit.
Jason took one last look at his own status panel.
…
Name: Jason
Species: Ditto
Ability: Limber
HP: 195
Attack: 48
Defense: 48
Sp. Atk: 48
Sp. Def: 48
Speed: 48
Allocatable Base Stats: 0
Held Items: Wide Lens, Twisted Spoon, Tera Orb
Available Transform Forms: Garchomp, Glimmora, Roaring Moon, Brute Bonnet, Lokix, Tinkaton, Armarouge, Dudunsparce, Pawmot, Annihilape, —…
…
His gaze lingered on "HP: 195."
"HP base stat is at 195 now," he calculated.
He remembered perfectly: Wobbuffet sits at 190. Chansey at 250, Blissey at 255.
He'd already surpassed the famously tanky Wobbuffet.
"Looks pretty safe now."
He could feel the vast pool of life energy inside him. It meant that even if he transformed into a high-attack Pokémon like Garchomp, his HP bar would be thicker than the original.
He was now a super-tank wrapped in a glass-cannon's skin.
"Elite Four? Champion?"
A smug expression somehow formed on his pink surface.
"I'm going to beat all of you."
He turned toward the deep, quiet hall beyond the League doors.
"Let's go," he said, lifting a pseudopod like an arm. "Time to meet our examiners."
The interior of the League HQ was completely different from its crystalline exterior.
The light inside was soft, the dominant tone a deep, calm blue. The walls were made of some smooth stone; the polished floor mirrored the ceiling lights.
It was very quiet.
As soon as they stepped in, a staff member in League uniform hurried over.
"You must be Mr. Jason," he said, posture extremely respectful—borderline nervous. He kept his eyes lowered, not daring to look directly at Miraidon or Iron Valiant.
"That's right. We arranged this with Champion Geeta," Jason said as he floated via Psychic, keeping eye level with him.
"The Champion and the Elite Four are already waiting for you in the Champion Hall on the top floor. Please, this way."
The staffer walked lightly ahead, guiding them down a wide corridor. The only sounds were the metal clink of Iron Valiant's steps and the faint scraping of Miraidon's claws.
Even Gast fell unusually quiet, no longer chattering, just looking around curiously.
It wasn't her first time here—but it felt different.
Last time they were just visiting.
This time, they were here to challenge.
The air itself carried a pressure that even a Ghost-type could feel.
She knew: this was where Paldea's strongest fighters gathered.
Miraidon stayed stately—but the auras up above that weren't weaker than it (and some very strong ones) made its own fighting spirit burn hotter. Purple lightning flickered at its throat.
Jason was actually the most relaxed. The little pink blob waddled along in front, glancing around.
"Nice decor. Must've cost a fortune," he thought to himself.
They passed through the lobby and into a private elevator. It was roomy enough even for Miraidon.
The staffer pressed the top-floor button. The elevator ascended smoothly.
"Mr. Jason," he ventured, trying to ease his own nerves, "this is my first time seeing a… talking Ditto. And your team is… um…"
He glanced at Iron Valiant, then at Miraidon.
"…very unique," he finished.
"We're here for the championship," Jason said simply.
"Yes, good luck. Um, could I… have your autograph?" the staffer asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
Jason blinked, then smiled and signed. He hadn't expected to actually have fans.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
A huge circular hall lay beyond. At the far end stood a massive double door carved with the League crest.
"The Champion Hall is just inside. I'll leave you here," the staffer said, bowing before retreating to the elevator.
Jason floated to the doors. Gast, Iron Valiant, and Miraidon lined up behind him.
He threw the doors open.
They swung wide, revealing the highest point of Paldea's League—the Champion Hall.
The room was enormous, the ceiling a high dome. Light poured down through crystalline structures overhead, illuminating the standard battlefield at the center.
On the far side of the field stood five people.
These five were the ceiling of Paldea's competitive scene.
On the far left, leaning against the wall, was Rika—sharp suit, hands in pockets, posture casual. Her expression was its usual lazy half-awake look—until the door opened. Her lids lifted; her gaze cut across the room, sharp as a blade.
She looked first at the imposing Miraidon, then at the lethal Iron Valiant—finally landing on the pink blob floating at the front. One eyebrow rose; the corner of her mouth curled.
Next to her, standing straight as a rod, was Hassel—dressed in old-fashioned gentleman's attire, hair perfectly combed. He looked like a classical artist, smiling gently as his eyes took in Jason and his team.
In a corner stood an unassuming man: Larry. The very picture of a salaryman.
He adjusted his glasses with a blank face.
Inside, he was thinking: Sigh. Not again. Wonder when I'll actually get off work. I think the supermarket's bentos are on sale today…
In the center stood Champion Geeta—the core of the room's aura, and of the League itself.
She didn't need to say a word. Just standing there, she radiated a deep, oceanic authority.
Her gaze met Jason's in midair.
And finally, at her side, was a small girl: Poppy.
Twin huge pigtails, cute dress, tiny frame—this was one of Paldea's Elite Four, the Steel-type master.
At the sight of Jason, Poppy's eyes lit up.
"Jason!"
Before Geeta could speak, Poppy screamed and bolted toward him at startling speed. She ignored the wall of Miraidon and Iron Valiant in her path, slipped around them, and launched herself into a flying tackle—grabbing the floating Ditto in a full-body hug.
"Yaaah!"
Jason took the hit full on.
"You finally came! Poppy's been waiting forever!" she squealed, squeezing him tighter and rubbing her cheek against him, hands mercilessly kneading.
"Poppy really missed you! You feel so nice! Squishy! Cool!"
His Ditto body was kneaded into all sorts of shapes—long strips, flat pancakes, lumpy blobs.
"Cough—Poppy! Easy— you're going to squish me to death!" he groaned.
"It's fine! You're a Ditto, you can't explode!" she laughed even harder. "Oh yeah! Did you learn the Gigaton Hammer my Tinkaton taught you last time? Transform into Tinkaton and battle me!"
Inside, he was dying.
Damn, why is this kid still so strong?
If not for the fact the Champion and other Elites were watching, he would have—
Then it hit him.
Wait.
With his HP base stat at 195… if he transformed into something else now, he might actually be able to beat her.
That realization put him in a much better mood.
Off to the side, Rika chuckled under her breath. "My my, Poppy's as energetic as ever. Looks like our challenger's getting hard-countered."
Larry adjusted his glasses wordlessly.
It looked like the other three Elites weren't taking Jason all that seriously. Only he knew how terrifying Jason was when he got serious.
Hassel smiled. "Poppy's very fond of Mr. Jason. How enthusiastic."
"Enough, Poppy," Geeta finally spoke.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it quieted the hall immediately.
Poppy stuck her tongue out and froze her hands—though she didn't let go, if anything hugging him tighter.
"Welcome to the League, Jason."
Geeta's eyes fell on the pink blob that kept changing shape in Poppy's arms.
"I've verified the eight badges you collected in Paldea. All valid." She continued, "So, in line with League tradition, you will now—"
"Hold on, Champion Geeta."
Jason cut in.
With considerable effort, he "slurped" out of Poppy's hug like a bar of wet soap and dropped into the air in front of them, clearing his throat.
"This is exactly what I'm here to talk about."
Facing all five, he showed not a trace of nerves.
"The traditional format—facing each opponent one at a time—wastes way too much time."
The air changed in an instant.
Rika's eyebrow rose; the laziness fled her face, replaced by sharp interest. "Oh? A waste of time?"
Hassel's gentle smile faded into a look of surprise. He hadn't expected a challenger to say something like that.
Larry's lenses flashed with ceiling light. He sighed inwardly. Ah—worst-case scenario. One of those troublemakers who want weird conditions. No way I'm getting off on time today.
Poppy tilted her head. "Does Jason not want to battle Poppy?"
Geeta narrowed her eyes.
Her aura was still calm, but the pressure spiked.
"Jason. Are you questioning the League's rules?"
"No. I just think we can be a bit more efficient," he said, extending one pseudo-arm toward his team.
"Me, Gast, Iron Valiant, and Miraidon. Four on our side."
Then he pointed at the four Elites.
"You four are exactly four as well."
He smiled.
"What I'd like is a 4v4…"
He paused dramatically.
"…group battle."
"Each of you brings four Pokémon onto the field."
When he finished speaking, the Champion Hall dropped into an uncanny silence.
All five masters froze.
Rika, Hassel, Poppy, Larry—the four Elites looked at each other.
Had they heard that right?
A 4v4 mass battle?
"Well? Do you like my new rule?" Jason asked.
Rika frowned. "You're sure about that? That's not exactly fair—to you."
Poppy nodded. "Yeah, Jason. If we're each limited to four Pokémon, that's sixteen on our side. You only have four. The numbers are way off."
Jason just smiled. "It's fine. I trust my teammates. We can do it."
This time, the hall plunged into dead silence.
You could hear a pin drop.
Poppy's mouth fell open. Hassel looked genuinely shocked. Larry's glasses slid down his nose and he forgot to push them back up.
In Rika's eyes, a ferocious light flared. She muttered, "Madman."
Even Geeta—calm, unshakable Geeta—finally lost her composure. Her eyes went wide.
This wasn't just a challenge anymore.
It was a provocation.
This Ditto planned to take three partners and, in one go, topple the entire upper echelon of Paldea's League.