The inner hall of the Veilstone Gym swallowed me whole. No crowd. No banners. Just four stone walls lit by torches that hissed and spat as if annoyed at their own duty. The mat underfoot was hard-packed weave over stone, scarred by years of boots and claws. Chalk lines crossed and recrossed in pale scars: circles, crosses, edges layered on top of one another. At the center hung a bell, rope black with years of use, its bronze skin dented by time.
The aides stood still at the edge of the ring. No commentary, no applause. Their job was to watch, to judge. Maylene waited across the mat. Barefoot, hair tied back, sash wrapped tight at the waist. Small frame, but her stance pressed into the ground like it belonged there. She bowed once. Sharp. Precise.
"Three badges. Four on four. No theatrics. Control them, or you don't leave with them."
"I understand."
The aide tugged the rope. The bell boomed low, and the silence after was heavier than the sound.
I drew the first ball, thumb pressing the seam. Torchlight flared against its surface. I hurled it hard, a soldier's pitch. It cracked against the chalk and burst white.
Luxio landed, paws spread, mane alive with crawling sparks. The Shell Bell gleamed at his throat. He growled once, steady, waiting for the order.
Maylene's arm moved—clean, efficient. Her Poké Ball struck, popped. Meditite stood with hands folded, eyes half-closed, aura pulsing blue. Calm. Balanced.
"Luxio. Step left. Keep the line."
"Medidite—forward. Hands high," Maylene called.
Medidite slid across chalk, palms glowing. Luxio shifted left, two neat steps, claws scraping chalk. "Arc!" I snapped. Sparks spat forward, cracking into Meditite's shoulder. The bell above chimed at the hit.
"Recover," Maylene clipped. Meditite absorbed, slid back into stance, swept a leg.
"Low guard! Reset!" I barked. Luxio flattened, paws crossed, tail snapping for balance. Sparks surged in his mane. "Arc again—tight!" He spat another bolt. It lashed across Meditite's chest. The aura flared, but it stumbled.
"Close!" Maylene ordered. Meditite pressed in, fists sharp.
"Feint—Bite, pull back!" Luxio lunged, jaws flashing at empty air, forcing Meditite to guard. "Arc now!" He spat another burst point-blank into its chest. Meditite hit the mat, smoking.
"Medidite down," an aide said, hand raised.
Luxio's mane bristled with pride. He trotted back, chest heaving. I tapped his head once. "Good rhythm."
Second ball. I threw it underhand, flat, and it burst mid-bounce. Tyrunt roared onto the mat, tail gouging chalk, teeth snapping.
Maylene's throw cracked. Machoke landed like a wall, scars white against gray skin, eyes calm and sharp.
"Machoke, close range. No space," Maylene said.
"Tail sweep, low and tight!" I barked. Tyrunt whipped his tail shallow across the line. It cracked against Machoke's shin. The bell chimed.
Machoke took the hit, stepped through, fist hammering Tyrunt's shoulder. Tyrunt staggered.
"Reset stance! Guard up!" He snarled, claws digging grooves. "Sweep again, short!" His tail cut another arc, forcing Machoke's knee back.
"Clinch," Maylene snapped. Machoke lunged, arms locking Tyrunt's neck.
"Break! Twist out!" I shouted. Tyrunt roared, teeth flashing inches from Machoke's face. The grip loosened. "Now—stone, throw!" Tyrunt scraped a pebble with his claw and whipped it with his tail. It cracked against Machoke's chest.
Machoke growled, fists pounding. Tyrunt bared his teeth, tail snapping in disciplined rhythm. Crack, crack, crack—the bell chimed with each. Machoke faltered, tired footwork showing.
"Finish him—knee strike!" Maylene barked. Machoke surged, knee driving forward.
"Counter! Tail high, hit the joint!" Tyrunt swung with precision, his tail smashing into the advancing knee. Machoke buckled, dropped to the mat.
"Machoke down," an aide announced.
Tyrunt snarled, chest heaving. I crouched, voice sharp. "Discipline. Not hunger." His jaws snapped shut. He huffed, then retreated.
I reached for no ball. My shadow stretched long. Honedge slid out, tassel tightening on my wrist, blade gleaming faint.
Maylene's ball cracked. Hitmontop landed spinning, body balanced on its head, legs slicing the air like blades. The mat hummed with its rhythm.
"Spin up. Pressure!" Maylene called.
"Flat guard! Redirect!" I barked. Honedge dropped, flat meeting kick. Sparks spat. The bell chimed.
"Accelerate!" Maylene snapped. Hitmontop whirred faster, strikes blurring.
"Shadow out!" I commanded. Honedge's shadow stretched, flicking at the spin. Hitmontop stumbled, rhythm breaking. "Now—cut him off! Aerial Ace!"
Honedge blurred, blade slicing the air itself. A silver arc tore through Hitmontop's spin, smashing it sideways. It crashed, rolled, stilled.
"Hitmontop down," the aide said.
Honedge hovered, eye gleaming. I touched his hilt. "Perfect execution."
Maylene's last ball hit the chalk. The burst cleared, and Lucario stood. Aura flared like blue fire, licking its frame. Its eyes locked forward, calm and terrible.
"Anchor him," I ordered. I threw Grotle's ball. He landed heavy, vines twitching, shell braced.
"Lucario—forward. Break him," Maylene commanded.
Lucario blurred, fist glowing white. "Guard! Tilt shell!" I shouted. Grotle shifted, the punch smashing across his side. He staggered but stayed up.
"Scatter leaves—cone forward!" He shook, leaves blasting out. They slashed Lucario's arms, forcing him to guard.
"Don't stop—rush him!" Maylene snapped. Lucario hammered forward, fists relentless.
"Brace! Legs wide!" Grotle dug in, claws gouging grooves. The blows cracked against his shell, his jaw. He trembled.
"Up! Don't fold!" I barked. He roared, pushing back.
Lucario struck again, aura blazing brighter. Grotle collapsed, shell slamming the mat.
"Roots—drain!" My voice cut sharp. His claws stabbed down. Roots burst through the mat, wrapping Lucario's legs, glowing green. Energy bled from Lucario into Grotle, his wounds sealing.
"Break free!" Maylene ordered. Lucario roared, aura flaring, but the roots held.
"Push forward! Shell slam!" Grotle surged, shell crashing into Lucario's chest. Roots pulsed, draining again.
"Counter! Force guard!" Maylene snapped. Lucario struck with a desperate fist, but his aura sputtered, body weakening.
"Finish! One more drain!" Grotle roared, roots blazing, siphoning the last of Lucario's strength. Lucario staggered, dropped to his knees, then hit the mat hard.
"Lucario down," the aide declared. The bell rang low, final.
The hall was silent. My team stood ragged but proud. Luxio's sparks faded, Tyrunt's tail twitched, Honedge hovered steady, Grotle stood tall with roots curling back.
Maylene bowed once. "Badge earned. You proved control. But control is only the beginning." Her eyes locked on Tyrunt. "Tomorrow, you return. We talk factions. Responsibility. Power like his isn't left unchecked."
"I understand," I said, steady.
She turned. The aides didn't move. The torchlight flickered faint on chalk and scars.
I clipped the Poké Balls back, but Honedge sank into my shadow instead. The Shell Bell tapped my hip, cool and heavy.
Not miracle. Not luck. Rhythm. Earned.
For now.