"The tournament has now reached the round of the last 128. From here the matches are changed to the 6-versus-6 form, and the fields are reduced to four."
The host in the arena announced the competition's new stage, so that all the Trainers should know it.
This was the tournament's custom as well: the 3-versus-3 rounds before it counted as the eliminations, and what came next was full contest, six against six.
The last 128 was a very respectable result in itself.
To have fought your way to that place said that you had a certain standard about you.
Of course, some of the Trainers were on the weaker side and had been lucky earlier, meeting nobody very strong, and had come this far all the same.
But luck counts as part of strength, so there was nothing strange in that either.
"Heh-heh-heh—"
Ghostly shapes came thick all round, ghost-fire spread out on every side and then gathered into one again, and struck home on the Scizor all together.
It was beaten down, went headlong to the ground and did not stir again.
"Scizor is unable to battle. Haunter is the winner."
The referee announced it, and told the Trainer facing Vance to send out another Pokémon.
The one facing Vance was a young lad, simply dressed, in a straw hat, with a boyish face; but the toughness in his eyes drew a certain amount of notice.
"You did well, Scizor."
The boy recalled his Scizor, drew a deep breath, then opened his eyes and looked straight at Vance.
"Hoo. There's no help for it this time, but a thing begun should be seen through."
He took out a Poké Ball and threw it.
"Heracross, I'm counting on you."
A powerful Heracross appeared on the field, setting its strong arms.
Heracross, a Bug type, with the strength of level 45.
This was already the boy's fifth Pokémon; the four before it had all fallen to the Haunter.
And all four of them had been Bug types.
"Be careful, Heracross. This opponent is strong — it has already beaten four of our friends."
The boy said it by way of warning. Even come to this, he meant to fight his round.
Standing here today had not come easily. It was the work of him and his Pokémon, day and night without ceasing, that had brought a Bug Catcher like him to stand here at all.
It was the dream he had had when he first went into the forest to catch bugs.
To show himself on this great stage.
As for losing, he had lost more times than he could count along the way, and it no longer mattered.
What mattered was how he carried himself, that he would never own himself beaten. A Bug Catcher boy he might be, but that held just the same.
He had a pride of his own.
"Heraaa—"
Heracross sprang up and away, light flashing out over its fist, and drove the blow at the place where the Haunter was.
"Sss-heh—"
Haunters came out one after another all around it, and some unaccountable energy in the field was interfering with it.
"Steady, Heracross. Look carefully and tell them apart."
"Heraaa—"
Heracross took a defensive stance, and the two feelers to either side of its great horn quivered faintly. It opened its eyes, gathered a Focus Blast in its hand and hurled it with a sweep of its arm.
And the direction it threw in was where the Haunter's true body was.
Heracross leaned back, spread its wings, set itself and flew off at tremendous speed.
"Bang—"
The Focus Blast struck the Haunter squarely without a miss, and before the Haunter had time to recover Heracross was there, its fist already above the Haunter's head.
The Haunter turned to a black shadow and slipped down into the ground to get clear, with the fist already coming down where it had been.
The ground shook violently and the Haunter shot up out of it, baring its teeth in a grimace. Heracross's Focus Punch had caught it after all.
Heracross came straight at it from the front; the Haunter gathered power in both hands and fired off a Dark Pulse, which was nimbly dodged.
The distance closed again.
"Sss-heh—"
The Haunter stopped dodging. Ghost-fire coiled about it giving off a fierce heat, and it went alone to meet the thing.
If there was no getting away, then it would have its fight.
At the first contact it was very nearly flicked into the air by that great horn.
At close quarters, the other one was more than capable.
Its movements were broad and sweeping, and with the great horn on its brow behind them the Haunter was hard put to hold its ground.
Heracross knew how to endure as well, bearing up under the bite of the ghost-fire, trading hurt for hurt to deal its damage.
A few exchanges in, the Haunter was in no very good state.
This was its fifth bout; much of its strength was spent and it was no longer at its peak.
"Heracross, Hyper Beam!"
Seeing the Haunter slow down, he knew the chance had come, and had Heracross loose its great move at once — Hyper Beam, straight into the Haunter's face.
"Sss-heh—"
The Haunter knew it was bad, and wanted to get its body clear, but that was not allowed it; there was no dodging that Hyper Beam at all.
So it gave up dodging altogether. Stirring up everything it had, it sent the ghost-fire whirling wildly at Heracross, and took the Hyper Beam itself.
"Booom—"
A great cloud of black smoke went up, and Heracross flew out of it with burn marks in a good many places on its body.
It looked back, and there was a sight to make it feel helpless: the Haunter's shape had appeared as well, off on the far side. Its Hyper Beam might as well have gone nowhere at all.
The Haunter was in a poor way, but it was still floating.
Its escape was Vance's doing, of course; he had Teleported it out of the Hyper Beam's ground.
"Heh-heh-heh—"
Once clear, the Haunter flung itself at the spent Heracross, and the two Pokémon went at each other fiercely together.
At the end of it, Heracross alone went down on the ground.
It had lost after all.
"Sss-heh—"
Seeing its opponent go down, the Haunter struggled. It did not want to be unable to battle; but the way its body answered told it that five bouts one after another had brought it to its limit.
It did not want to. None of its companions had ever been put out, and it would be the only one. Who could bear that?
Humiliating, that was what it was.
But there was no help for it. Weariness came up over its heart, its awareness blurred, and it went out along with the other.
"Clap, clap, clap—"
A sound like thunder rose from the watching crowd, applauding a splendid match.
At last one of Vance's Pokémon had been beaten, forcing him to use another.
"You did splendidly, Haunter. Leave the rest to your friends."
Vance said it to it as he drew it back into the ball.
Under the 3-versus-3 form the Haunter might have held on, but in this one it could not.
A record of one to five was striking enough.
The Poké Ball gave a shake, and he put it back on his belt.
The other side recalled the Heracross and sent out a Butterfree.
It looked rather weak, and did not come up to the Heracross in strength.
"Go on, my first partner."
"Freee—"
This Butterfree was the first Pokémon he had caught in the forest, the one he had started with as a Bug Catcher.
It had been with him through all his campaigning up and down the country, the Pokémon that had been at his side longest, and now there was nothing else for it but to send it out.
"Which of you wants to go?"
Vance asked his Pokémon quietly, and not one of them answered him.
Gyarados and the rest went without saying; at that level it was not their turn to move.
Sandslash and the others, seeing the state of this Butterfree and that it was Elite-class, had no interest either.
"You, then, Sandslash."
"Ssh—"
Called out by name, Sandslash could only come out of its ball and stand on the field.
It wiped its claws. Who would have thought it — the villain's part fell to it to play again.
There was no help for that either. The Trainer had named it, and if it did not come out it might be thrown away.
On that point, a Sandslash which had been thrown away several times had authority enough to speak.
So it was very sorry, Butterfree.
Sandslash pushed off on its short legs and went forward.
And the way the battle went was no surprise: the Butterfree was less and less able to hold it off, and fell away.
Sandslash, by contrast, grew bolder the longer it fought, and had found its stride.
Blows passed like lightning, the Butterfree's cry of pain was heard, and it came falling down out of the sky.
"Ssh-ssh-ssh—"
Sandslash came slowly closer, with a look about it that gave no quarter.