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"Arcanine, Extreme Speed, catch him!"
Sato spotted Maitel just as he was about to mount a visibly weakened Pidgeot and take off. Without hesitation, he leapt off Arcanine and ordered it to stop the attempted escape.
"Pidgeot, hurry and take off!"
At the same time, Maitel's heart nearly leapt into his throat when he saw Sato rapidly approaching on Arcanine. He frantically ordered his Pidgeot to ascend.
Maitel knew that most contestants would not choose to use large Flying-type Pokémon in a dense forest like this—it was too restricting. Moreover, the island was home to many wild Pokémon that were extremely territorial about their airspace, so large Flying-types were not a smart pick.
Thus, if he could just get airborne on his Pidgeot, there was a high chance he could escape this danger. Even if he ended up being chased by wild Flying-types, that was still better than being eliminated now.
He didn't want to be eliminated—especially after Ranka had thoroughly crushed his pride again and again. Because he knew this competition was a rare opportunity—perhaps the only one he'd ever get—to climb the ranks in Team Rocket despite having no backing.
Thanks to his prior performance, several factions had already approached him in private. Still, Maitel had neither accepted nor refused. He wanted to wait, to raise his value even higher through this tournament and sell himself at a better price.
But today, Maitel's luck was truly awful. First, he nearly crashed into Ranka, who was like an immovable steel wall. And now, he'd run into Sato—the fierce tiger who dared to face off with Ranka head-on.
With its mastery of Extreme Speed, Arcanine's burst was nearly unmatched among Pokémon of its level. Maitel's Pidgeot was only level 42 and still recovering from serious injuries. Dodging Arcanine's sudden attack was simply impossible.
In the blink of an eye, Arcanine appeared behind Pidgeot and slashed one of its wings with blazing-hot claws.
A sickening crack echoed as bones snapped and the Pidgeot shrieked in agony. It had barely risen two meters before losing balance and crashing back to the ground.
"Come out—Machamp, Vileplume, Scyther!"
"Machamp, Cross Chop!"
"Vileplume, Stun Spore!"
"Scyther, X-Scissor!"
However, Maitel's reaction caught both Arcanine and Sato off guard. He had managed to leap off Pidgeot before Arcanine's strike landed and tossed out three PokéBalls, commanding his Pokémon to attack with swift precision.
Maitel's throwing technique was clearly well-practiced—the three PokéBalls landed with pinpoint accuracy in front of Arcanine and to both of its flanks.
Though Machamp was still injured, at level 53 it was not to be underestimated. Drawing on its wealth of battle experience, it charged at Arcanine the moment it appeared, attempting to grapple it with all four powerful arms.
Vileplume and Scyther, flanking from either side, were a second slower but still followed Maitel's commands and began closing in on Arcanine from both sides.
Machamp nearly made contact with Arcanine—close enough to grab a tuft of its fur—but the injury on its leg slowed it down too much.
Before the pincer attack could land, Arcanine leapt into the air. Flames surged across its body, and from its mouth erupted a white-hot jet of flame.
Flamethrower.
In the next moment, the combined attackers were engulfed in the blaze. Machamp, who had taken a direct hit, collapsed instantly, while Vileplume and Scyther—grazed by the outer flames—were left badly wounded.
"It's over. Try resisting, and I'll kill you right now."
Sato now stood before a furious and unwilling Maitel, accompanied by Ursaring and Bellossom—whose two Leaf Blades gleamed menacingly.
Ursaring's massive paw pressed lightly against Maitel's head, while Bellossom held one of its leaf-shaped blades right against Maitel's throat.
For a moment, Maitel's entire body went cold. Still, he clenched the special device in his hand—a transmitter that could send his location back to base—and locked eyes with Sato.
"I know who you are. You're Sato. You probably don't know this, but Ranka's offering a high bounty for your head. Actually, I've got a grudge against him too. We fought just recently. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't have caught me so easily. I can tell you everything about him. Valuable intel—guaranteed. I'll even help you take him down. All I ask is that you let me go. I just need my number tag, the transmitter, and my Pokémon. Keep everything else. Deal?"
Maitel still refused to accept his defeat. Like Thomas, he immediately recognized Sato as someone with a grudge against Ranka.
But unlike Thomas, who had laid everything out without asking for mercy, Maitel came in negotiating terms—rather many, in fact.
"No need. Honestly, you're not as smart as Thomas. But credit where it's due—your reflexes are quick. Congratulations. You just saved your own life."
Sato gave Maitel a long, hard look, then glanced at the special transmitter clenched tightly in his hand, finger pressing firmly against the red emergency button. Shaking his head, Sato reached forward and tore the number tag from Maitel's chest.
Startled, Maitel accidently pressed the red distress button.
"No!!"
He stared in horror at the now-activated emergency beacon, his face twisting into a mask of despair. His bloodshot eyes burned with hatred as they locked on Sato.
But Sato remained unfazed. He understood Maitel's feelings, yet this was the nature of the tournament—winners take all. Losers can only leave in shame… or worse.
And if nothing else, Sato would surely meet more contestants like Maitel during the rest of his journey—those who turned vicious when faced with failure.
What they didn't realize was how foolish such hatred was. One day, the person they despised might be the very one they had to report to.
Not long after, a ripple distorted the air around them. Out from the twisted space emerged a Xatu, radiating powerful psychic energy.
After a quick telepathic exchange with Sato and Maitel, the Xatu swiftly retrieved the heartbroken Maitel, his Pokémon, his number tag, and a pouch of premium Flying-type Pokémon food, courtesy of Saro.