The competitors' waiting room was less of a lounge and more of a shark tank.
The air conditioning was humming, but it did little to cool the heavy atmosphere of ego and raw power that filled the space. This wasn't just a room for Rookies; the VIP area was shared with the exhibition guests—the living elites of the Pokémon world who were here to watch, judge, and act as ambassadors.
Enzo stood in the darkest corner of the room, leaning against a marble pillar. His arms were crossed, his red cap pulled low over his eyes, and he had his headphones on, though no music was playing. He was just listening. Observing.
To his left, near the buffet table, Misty, the younger sister of the current Cerulean Gym Leader Daisy, was venting her frustration to Brock, the son of the Pewter Leader Flint.
"If Daisy turns this opening ceremony into another synchronized swimming show, I'm going to lose it," Misty muttered, aggressively stabbing a piece of fruit with a fork. "It's a Gym Battle, Brock, not a beauty pageant. Cerulean needs a warrior, not a mermaid."
"Be patient, Misty," Brock replied, arms crossed, his expression stoic as ever. "At least your sister brings in a crowd. My old man is so stubborn he still thinks using 'Harden' six times is the only strategy a trainer needs. He's boring the sponsors to death."
But the real center of gravity in the room wasn't the buffet or the Kanto VIPS. It was the velvet sofa near the window.
Sitting there was Steven Stone.
He was devastatingly handsome, possessing a sharp, aristocratic beauty that made him the "ideal man" by every standard of this world. He was filthy rich, powerful, and effortlessly elegant in his steel-grey suit.
A human shield of nervous rookies, all wearing tracksuits emblazoned with the Devon Corporation logo, formed a protective ring around him. These sponsored kids weren't just participants; they were acting as unpaid bodyguards, desperately holding back a tide of blushing heiresses and aspiring models who were trying to get close to the heir.
Steven ignored them all. He ignored the women, the bodyguards, and the social climbing. His entire world was focused on a small, glittering meteorite shard he held up to the light, examining its facets with intense focus.
Enzo watched him from the shadows, his eyes narrowing in calculation. To the rest of the room, Steven was just a wealthy eccentric who liked rocks. But Enzo knew the truth.
Future Champion of Hoenn, Enzo noted mentally. A monster in a suit.
If Enzo ever wanted to expand Team Rocket's operations to the Hoenn region in the future, Steven Stone was the one man he absolutely could not afford to offend. He kept his distance.
Across the room, the Galar representatives, Nessa and Bea, were comparing training regimes on a tablet, their competitive auras clashing silently.
It was a study in contrasts that made the air around them feel heavy with raw talent.
Nessa lounged on the sofa with the predatory grace of a Gyarados waiting to strike. She looked every inch the supermodel she was famous for being, impeccable makeup, long dark hair streaked with vibrant blue, and a posture that screamed effortless confidence. Her beauty was magnetic, the kind that stopped traffic and started wars, a perfect blend of elegance and danger. She tapped the screen with a manicured nail, critiquing a strategy with a smirk that was equal parts charming and condescending.
Beside her, Bea sat with the rigidity of a steel beam. The Fighting-type specialist didn't lounge. She sat on the edge of the cushion, her back perfectly straight, her grey eyes scanning the scrolling data with military precision. If Nessa was a fluid painting, Bea was a marble statue carved by a master. Her beauty was severe and sculpted, every muscle was taut under her tight training gear, radiating a disciplined, athletic perfection.
They weren't just there for show. Enzo knew they were the "Chosen Ones," personally handpicked by Chairman Rose. They were the absolute prodigies of their respective Gyms in Galar, selected to represent the future of their region's power. Rose didn't invest in failure.
Enzo felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. While Nessa's cold intensity was intimidating, it was Bea who made him nervously check his tournament bracket on his phone one more time.
Her absolute mastery of Fighting-types was a hard, lethal counter to his team composition. If Enzo had the misfortune of facing Bea in the early rounds, his tournament run would became very difficult, he let out a slow breath, praying to whatever gods were listening that she remained on the opposite side of the bracket.
But Enzo's gaze eventually shifted past them, fixing on the woman standing in the exact center of the room. She was wearing a long black coat with fur trim, laughing softly as she signed a Poké Ball for a nervous staff member.
Cynthia. The Champion of Sinnoh.
Unlike the others, who were heirs or local celebrities, she was a true apex predator.
Enzo narrowed his eyes. He wanted to measure the abyss between himself and a Champion.
In the exact moment his focus locked onto her, a sharp, white-hot pain shot through his optic nerve. It wasn't a headache; it was a glitch.
Static filled his vision. The familiar blue interface of the System didn't pop up smoothly; it tore through his reality like a corrupted file.
[ ! SYSTEM CRITICAL ERROR ! ] [ TARGET IDENTIFIED: CYNTHIA (CHAMPION) ] [ THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME ] [ ANOMALY DETECTED: Target possesses an active Link with Entity ?????????? ] [ WARNING: CEASE OBSERVATION. The Entity ?????????? is gazing back. ] [ CONNECTION TERMINATED FOR USER SAFETY ]
Enzo gasped, physically recoiling against the pillar. He shut his eyes tight, the afterimage of the red warning text burning in his mind.
What the hell was that?
His heart hammered against his ribs. Entity ?????????? It didn't take a genius to fill in the blanks. Giratina? Whatever she was carrying or connected to, it was something far beyond mere "stats" and "levels." It was cosmic.
He took a deep, shaky breath, forcing his heart rate to slow down. He opened his eyes, careful not to look in her direction again.
He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving quickly to open the tournament bracket for the day.
[ Qualifiers: 6 Elimination Matches ]
He scanned the list of names, hunting for threats. He saw no future Champions here.
It was just a list of victims: rich Rookies with expensive gear, corporate-sponsored "prodigies" like that Julian kid from Silph Co., and starry-eyed teenagers who thought friendship was a stat multiplier.
Match 1: Enzo Vance vs Julian
Enzo let out a long, silent sigh of relief. He wasn't fighting gods today. He was fighting sheep.
"Good," he whispered to himself, his hand drifting to the Ultra Ball on his belt, his thumb brushing the cold metal. "Today, the meat is weak."
The Cerulean Main Arena was packed to the rafters. The noise was deafening.
Several matches had already taken place, the crowd warming up with the other battles, now it was Enzo's turn.
In the press box, elevated high above the battlefield, three figures sat behind the commentators' desk, looking down at the arena like gods on Olympus.
"Welcome back, everyone!" the sweet, enthusiastic voice of Daisy, Misty's older sister and the current Gym Leader of Cerulean, echoed through the speakers. "Today has been a day full of beauty and power! With me, I have the esteemed Professor Birch from Hoenn and our beloved Princess of Nature, Erika from Celadon!"
"It is a pleasure to be here," Erika said, her voice calm and polite as always, gracefully adjusting the silk of her kimono. "I am loving watching this new generation of talent."
"Indeed," agreed Birch, adjusting his tie. "The format today is brutal. Six matches per person to qualify. Endurance and strategy are key, and we've already seen some interesting bouts."
"And here comes our next competitor!" Daisy announced, reading from the teleprompter. "Julian Silph!"
Golden fireworks exploded at the North Entrance. A blonde boy, wearing an impeccable white uniform with the Silph Co. logo embroidered in gold, entered waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. The audience loved it. He was the archetype of the corporate hero—rich, handsome, and safe.
"And his opponent..." Daisy's voice wavered slightly as she read the card. "Recommended by Lt. Surge... Enzo Vance."
There were no fireworks.
From the South Entrance, Enzo walked out. Hands buried in the pockets of his leather biker jacket. The heavy, rhythmic step of military boots. The jingle of chains. Zorua was not on his shoulder; today was serious business.
The audience didn't applaud. A low, uncomfortable murmur swept through the stands.
"My... a very... distinct visual," commented Erika, trying to be diplomatic.
"Looks like he got lost on his way to a rock concert," Daisy laughed superficially, though her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Let's see if he fights as well as he dresses," Professor Birch said, leaning forward with interest.
The referee raised the flags.
"Battle is 4 on 4! One Pokémon at a time! Standard knockout rules apply, but be warned: if a trainer loses three Pokémon consecutively, the Mercy Rule is invoked and the match ends immediately! Begin!"
"Let's put on a show, Alakazam!" Julian shouted, tossing a Luxury Ball.
In a flash of light, the Psychic Pokémon appeared, spoons in hand, radiating mental power. The crowd went "oooooh." Owning an Alakazam at that level was a sign of serious money and investment.
Enzo didn't shout. He simply tossed a Poké Ball with a lazy flick of his wrist.
The ball popped open. A wave of heat and the smell of sulfur invaded the arena.
Houndoom materialized. The curved horns, the fur black as night, and the bone skull on his chest. He didn't roar. He just exhaled smoke through his nostrils, his eyes fixed on the prey.
"A Dark and Fire type..." Erika commented, her voice losing a bit of its sweetness. "An aggressive choice."
"Alakazam, use Psychic! Throw him against the wall!" Julian ordered.
Alakazam's eyes glowed blue. A wave of telekinetic energy slammed into Houndoom.
And nothing happened.
Houndoom didn't even blink. The psychic energy broke against his black skin like water against a rock. Total immunity.
Julian paled. "What? But..."
Enzo snapped his fingers.
"Crunch."
Houndoom disappeared. He became a black blur. One second he was on his side of the field, the next, his jaws were clamped tight around Alakazam's shoulder.
There was a dry snap. Alakazam didn't even have time to scream before being violently slammed into the ground by the hellhound.
Silence.
Alakazam lay motionless, eyes swirling.
"Alakazam is unable to battle!" the referee shouted, shocked by the speed.
"My God..." Daisy whispered into the microphone, forgetting to commentate.
She looked down at the arena, her bubbly persona cracking. Unlike Erika, who looked concerned, Daisy made a visible face of disgust, her nose wrinkling as if she smelled something rotten. She hated this style. It wasn't beautiful; it was just violent.
"That... that was just luck!" Julian stuttered, his hands trembling as he recalled his Ace. "Go, Ivysaur!"
The Seed Pokémon appeared, looking robust and well-trained, planting its feet firmly on the ground.
Enzo glanced at the watch on his wrist.
"Houndoom, get this over with," he said flatly.
Houndoom opened his jaws. It wasn't a normal burst of fire. It was a concentrated Flamethrower, a beam of black and crimson flames that swallowed the field in an instant.
Ivysaur didn't even get the chance to release its Sleep Powder. The sheer impact of the thermal explosion blasted it right out of the arena, scorched and unconscious before it even hit the ground outside the lines.
"Ivysaur is unable to battle!" The referee seemed to be struggling to keep up with the pace. "2-0 for Enzo Vance!"
In the commentary booth, Professor Birch leaned forward, fascinated.
"That Houndoom... the power level is absurd for a Rookie. The thermal efficiency is... perfect," Birch analyzed, adjusting his glasses. "And for a Dark-type, he shows absolutely no aggression toward the trainer, executing every command flawlessly. Incredible."
"It is too brutal," Daisy murmured, gripping her fan tight until her knuckles turned white. "There is no art. Only destruction. This is something that should not be demonstrated here."
Erika placed a gentle hand on her colleague's arm, trying to calm her down. "Now, now, Daisy. Let's remain objective..."
Julian was sweating bullets. He shot a desperate, terrified glance toward the VIP box where his father was sitting. The older man's face was a mask of cold disappointment.
"I can't lose... not in the first match...by 3-0…" Julian whimpered, his voice cracking.
He grabbed his last Poké Ball, his knuckles white.
"Go, Magneton!"
The triple-magnet Pokémon floated out, buzzing with static electricity. Steel and Electric. Sturdy. Resistant.
"Hold on, Magneton! Use Light Screen to—"
Enzo yawned. He literally yawned in the middle of the arena.
Houndoom sensed his master's utter disdain. He didn't even wait for an order. He lunged forward with Fire Fang.
The flaming jaws clamped down onto Magneton's metal body with a sickening crunch. The steel overheated instantly. Julian's Pokémon let out a horrible, distorted metallic screech before crashing to the ground, smoking and motionless.
"Magneton is unable to battle! Victory goes to Enzo Vance with a clean 3-0 sweep!"
The giant screen flashed Enzo's face with the word WINNER.
Normally, there would be thunderous applause. Screams. Music.
But the stadium was filled with a strange, heavy silence. A few polite claps scattered here and there, but the majority of the crowd was still processing the clinical violence of the match.
"Well..." Erika said, her voice straining to lift the mood. "That was... fast! A... very impressive display of raw power?"
Professor Birch, however, was grinning. "A massive surprise! That boy has potential. I hope he goes far—I can barely wait to see the rest of his team."
Daisy looked irritated by the praise being heaped on Enzo. She pursed her lips, clearly wanting to criticize the lack of elegance, but she held back the worst of it.
"It certainly was... efficient," Daisy admitted, her tone stiff. "But then again, he was recommended by Lt. Surge. I suppose that military brutality is to be expected, even if it leaves much to be desired aesthetically."
Enzo didn't stay to hear the analysis.
He recalled Houndoom without a single word of praise, turned his back on the stunned audience, and walked toward the exit.
Only as he stepped into the shadows of the dark tunnel did a small, satisfied smirk cross his face.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm excited to officially launch this Patreon! (https://www.patreon.com/cw/NormanLetus) From now on, this is where you can get early access to chapters ahead of the free release on Web Novel.