The sun had barely risen over Ironspire City, but in Room 7 of Wyvern Dormitory, the day had already begun. On one side of the room, Ryuga was engaged in a fierce but playful wrestling match with his Dratini, both of them tumbling on the soft rug.
"Haha, gotcha!" Ryuga laughed, gently holding the squirming Dragon-type. "You're getting faster!"
"Kyuu!" Dratini chirped, poking him in the ribs.
On the other side of the room, a starkly different scene was unfolding. Valerius Argent was already dressed in his perfectly pressed academy uniform, polishing a Poké Ball with a silk cloth, his expression one of intense focus.
"Morning, roommate!" Ryuga called out cheerfully, getting to his feet and stretching. "Big day today! Our first class!"
"Keep your voice down, Pendragon," Valerius replied without looking up, his tone as sharp as ice. "Some of us use the morning for focused preparation, not for making noise."
Ryuga just grinned. "Whatever you say." He could feel the tension radiating off Valerius like a cold wave. Man, this guy is wound tight.
The Apex Class classroom was unlike any Ryuga had ever imagined. Instead of desks, there were fifty sleek, high-tech battle-analysis stations arranged in tiers. The front wall was a massive holographic screen, currently displaying the Pendragon Academy crest. Beyond a transparent wall to their right was a dedicated, pristine training field.
Ryuga took his assigned seat—Number 2—with Dratini curled around his shoulders. Valerius was already seated at station Number 1, looking as if he were born there.
The door slid open and a man with a sharp jawline, silver-streaked dark hair, and the unmistakable aura of a top-tier trainer strode in. His eyes, keen and analytical, swept across the fifty students, seeming to size each of them up in an instant.
"Welcome to the Apex Class," the man said, his voice a low, powerful rumble. "I am Professor Kaelen. I was once a member of the Valorian Elite Four. Here, we do not waste time with textbooks you should have already read. Your education will happen on the battlefield. Your final grade will be your rank. Simple as that."
A nervous energy filled the room. This was the real deal.
"Today's topic," Professor Kaelen continued, "is exploiting weakness under pressure." He flicked his wrist, and the holographic screen behind him lit up, showing a chaotic, high-level battle between a ferocious Garchomp and a gleaming Metagross. He let the video play for ten seconds before freezing it at a critical moment—the Garchomp had just unleashed a Dragon Rush and missed, leaving its side completely exposed.
"You have five seconds to analyze this frame," Kaelen's voice cut through the silence. "Argent. You're Rank 1. You first. Optimal move for the Metagross. Go."
Valerius stood up, his posture perfect. "The Garchomp has overextended," he stated, his voice ringing with confidence. "Its flank is exposed for approximately 1.7 seconds before it can recover. The optimal move is a close-range Meteor Mash targeting the fourth rib joint. The angle and proximity would guarantee a critical hit."
Professor Kaelen nodded slowly, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Correct. A textbook counter-attack. Sit down."
He then turned his gaze directly to Ryuga. "Pendragon. Rank 2. Do you agree with that assessment?"
Ryuga stood, his mind racing, the battle replaying in his head from a gamer's perspective. The safe move. The optimal DPS. But was it the best move?
"The Meteor Mash is the safe play," Ryuga said, his voice steady. "It deals heavy damage and secures the advantage. But it's not the winning move."
A murmur went through the classroom. Valerius shot him a glare.
"Oh?" The Professor raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten us."
"There's a half-second window before the Garchomp is in range for Meteor Mash," Ryuga explained, his eyes gleaming. "If the Metagross uses Agility first, its speed doubles. It can bypass the flank and get directly behind the Garchomp while it's still recovering from its own momentum. From there, a point-blank Ice Punch to the base of the neck. It's not just a critical hit; it's a guaranteed knockout."
The room fell silent. The other students stared at Ryuga, their minds struggling to process the lightning-fast sequence he had just described.
Professor Kaelen stared at him for a long moment, his stern expression slowly breaking into a sharp, impressed grin.
"A high-risk, high-reward gambit," the professor said, his voice laced with a newfound interest. "An all-or-nothing play that relies on perfect timing and execution. That kind of thinking wins championships... or gets a trainer knocked out in the first round."
He looked from Ryuga to Valerius, a challenging glint in his eye.
"For your next class, you won't be analyzing my videos," he announced to the room. "You'll be on the training fields making your own. Your first practical evaluation begins tomorrow. Your rankings are on the line."
Valerius shot Ryuga a look that was pure ice, a silent promise of a battle to come. The rivalry was no longer just a number on a list. It was now a clash of ideologies: Valerius's flawless perfection versus Ryuga's high-risk genius. And Ryuga couldn't wait to put it to the test.