"For most Pokémon, the head is an absolute weak point."
The line echoed in Silver's mind.
Like a Tinkaton had smacked him with a Gigaton Hammer—his head felt fuzzy.
He'd… kind of forgotten a basic rule.
If you lead with your head, be ready for your head to get hit.
Unless you've got an Ability like Rock Head, it's better not to.
"But you did well."
Grey still gave him a thumbs-up. "Round one's a pass. Now I want to see how far you can go."
In Grey's view, Silver's tactics were solid.
Even if Brick Break shattered them, that didn't make the idea bad.
After all, Farfetch'd's wings had started to frost over.
If it hadn't been a Fighting type, it probably would've frozen solid.
"Hmm…"
Thinking about his next pick, Silver fell silent.
His fingers hovered over the belt, then settled on the first ball.
"Go."
Red light flashed, and a blue-black silhouette took the field.
The upright weasel slowly licked its blade-like claws, a predator's playful glint flickering in its scarlet eyes.
It gave a lazy swipe—metal-on-metal squealed in the air.
[Pokémon: Sneasel]
[Type: Dark, Ice]
[Level: 30]
[Ability: Pickpocket]
[Moves: —]
Sneasel—the form before Weavile, nicknamed by netizens the "dragonslayer's knife."
Classic high Speed, high Attack.
Fragile frame, excels at blitzes.
This one, though, made Grey look twice.
A clear tier above Croconaw.
Level thirty—worthy of attention.
"Farfetch'd, return."
Grey recalled Farfetch'd.
It wasn't ready to brawl this out; making it eat hits wouldn't teach it anything.
Better to rest it.
Then Grey drew a fresh ball.
"Let's go with this one—about on par with your Sneasel."
When the ball burst—
Grey sent out a once-evolved tadpole.
[Pokémon: Poliwhirl]
[Type: Water]
[Level: 32]
[Ability: Damp]
[Moves: —]
"Poli~" (Hello, I'm Poliwhirl—nice to meet you~)
The honest-looking Poliwhirl scratched its head and greeted Sneasel.
"Snee!" (Who do you think you are? Greeting me? Didn't anyone tell you—when you see Grandpa Sneasel, you get on your knees and bow!)
Sneasel crossed its arms, sharp claws grazing its own hide, a smirk on its face. Poliwhirl wasn't even on the radar.
Grey, Poliwhirl: "…"
Two words in and Sneasel applied a silence debuff to man and mon.
"This one's got a temper…"
Grey rubbed his cheek and made a little prayer for what came next.
"?"
Seeing that, Silver felt a mysterious pressure.
He copied the gesture anyway.
"Poli!" (You #%@—you foul-mouthed Sneasel! I greet you and you think you're somebody? If I don't mop the floor with you, don't call me Poliwhirl!)
Poliwhirl could talk trash with the best of them.
Since evolving, it usually kept the peace.
But when the other side mouthed off—like Articuno or Zapdos sometimes did—it dropped the filter.
And today's Sneasel was stomping around on the landmine.
The mouth needed a beating.
Against that kind of trash talker, Poliwhirl only had one policy: be even nastier.
"If anything, our Pokémon are really enjoying the chat. First time I've seen Sneasel talk this much—thanks."
Silver thanked him earnestly.
Grey: "…"
With those eyes, what was he supposed to say?
He couldn't exactly go, "Your Sneasel is insulting Poliwhirl's ancestors," could he?
"Haha, don't mention it. Pokémon trading banter is normal. My Poliwhirl likes to talk—today it's found a kindred spirit."
[Are we sure that's "banter"? Neither looks friendly.]
[Yeah, this ain't chatting. This is…]
[Flaming.]
[Yup. Market-auntie haggle energy.]
[They only cry two syllables each time—how are you parsing full sentences?!]
[You just don't get Pokémon, man.]
"Poliwhirl, huh? Feels tricky for Sneasel…"
Silver returned Poliwhirl's greeting, then started turning over lines in his head.
Ice attacks barely scratch a Water type like Poliwhirl.
And Grey's a Fighting specialist—he's probably taught Poliwhirl some Fighting moves.
On typing alone, Sneasel was in a hole…
"Snee!" (Quit overthinking! It's just a Poliwhirl—tell me to smash it already! That slimy frog's mouth is filthy; I'm gonna grind it into paste!)
Impatient, Sneasel almost dove in on its own.
But for Silver's sake, it waited.
"Sneasel, Quick Attack!"
Silver stuck with his habit—open fast.
"Snee!" (Coming for you, little frog!)
Sneasel bared white teeth.
In a blink its body flashed white; the claw-blades left cold, glittering tail-lines as it sprinted.
In the next instant, it was on top of Poliwhirl!
Swish!
The claw tore the air—but the force dipped right as it touched Poliwhirl.
Thump…
A dull impact rang out.
Poliwhirl crossed both arms to guard; its soft belly dented, but it held the Quick Attack cleanly.
"Now—Mud Shot!"
On Grey's cue, Poliwhirl snapped its arms wide.
Its smooth skin rippled clay-yellow; thick mud seeped from pores all over and smeared across Sneasel's hands.
"Splash!"
Before Sneasel could retreat, a wave of ooze crashed over it, splattering the black pelt.
"Snee?!" (What the—?!)
Heavy sludge dripped from its fur; its nimble body turned sluggish, and even its claw swipes dragged muddy streaks…
Sneasel was in big trouble—on turn one.
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