Giovanni stared at his Dusknoir, then shifted his gaze toward David—with significantly more respect than a few minutes ago. This was supposed to be a casual stomp session. Just a quick delay tactic while Larvitar hatched. A warm-up.
Now?
Giovanni's eye twitched slightly.
He had originally ordered Dusknoir to use Will-O-Wisp, hoping to reduce Tyranitar's Attack stat and stall the match out. But David—David!—had beat him to the punch with Taunt, locking Dusknoir out of all non-damaging moves.
Giovanni clenched his jaw. This kid was definitely not just some overconfident high schooler with a wrench fetish.
He was good.
Still, the gap in experience and strength remained. Giovanni's face darkened slightly as his tone grew colder.
"Dusknoir," he commanded, "Brick Break."
The ghost instantly vanished from view.
David's eyes widened as a giant ethereal palm materialized—fingers folded tight into a shimmering ghost-hand-knife—and came slamming down from above, aimed straight at Tyranitar's skull.
The wind from the strike alone split the ground beneath Tyranitar's feet, as if a mini-earthquake had been sneak-attacked by a ninja karate master.
David didn't hesitate. "Tyranitar, Protect!"
Tyranitar crossed its arms, and with a flash of green light, an emerald energy barrier shimmered to life around it.
The ghost-hand crashed into the shield with a metallic clang that echoed across the entire battlefield.
From the sidelines, several nearby Trainers ducked instinctively.
"Is that a Protect move or a tank hatch door?!" someone yelped.
Even Commander Grant, who had seen more battles than most Trainers had Poké Balls, raised his eyebrows in alarm. "What kind of physical power makes that kind of sound?"
Dusknoir floated back, swirling with shadow energy. But Tyranitar hadn't taken a scratch.
David hadn't attacked once yet. And it wasn't out of mercy or hesitation—it was strategy.
His job wasn't to win. It was to stall.
And so far?
He was doing one hell of a job.
From across the battlefield, Giovanni frowned again.
He could see the rhythm. David wasn't even trying to out-damage him—he was just keeping Tyranitar alive. Every move was a survival tactic.
He glanced down at the Pokémon egg still clutched in his palm.
It was shaking more violently now, faint pulses of red light flickering across its dark shell. He could feel the moment drawing closer.
Less than 30 minutes.
A little more time, and his masterpiece would hatch.
The first Larvitar imbued with Primordial Energy—a Pokémon capable of drawing on the powers of ultra-ancient civilizations.
A slight grin formed on Giovanni's bony face. This battle? It was the perfect distraction.
He was stalling too.
And the idiot across from him hadn't realized that they were both delaying for very, very different reasons.
Meanwhile, David was also watching the egg.
Sweat trickled down his temple. The way Giovanni kept glancing at it, like a proud dad with a very evil science baby, told him everything he needed to know.
That thing is going to hatch soon.
And when it did? Giovanni might stop playing around.
He'd already proven himself capable of commanding those ultra-ancient monsters. If that Larvitar joined the party too? This Mystery Zone would become a slaughterhouse.
David clenched his fists.
He had to keep this battle going, no matter what.
"Dusknoir, Encore! Then use Brick Break again!"
Giovanni's voice rang out like a gavel.
David's eyes narrowed. Giovanni was betting on the Protect move failing this time.
Everyone knew that Protect had diminishing returns. Use it once, fine. Use it again back-to-back, and it only worked about one-third of the time.
Giovanni was hoping that this would be the moment Tyranitar let its guard down—literally.
David didn't flinch.
"Tyranitar, Substitute!" he barked.
Tyranitar's body shimmered as it sacrificed a portion of its energy. A miniature substitute doll—a slightly smaller Tyranitar-shaped figure—popped into existence in front of it.
As Dusknoir's massive ghost-hand fell like a haunted guillotine, it smashed straight through the substitute, which crumbled into shadow particles.
The real Tyranitar stood safe behind it, perfectly untouched.
David grinned.
Three moves now:
Taunt
Protect
Substitute
All defense. No offense.
And it was working.
Dusknoir floated back again, flickering with mild frustration.
And Giovanni?
Now he was sweating.
From the sidelines, Luna whispered, "He hasn't landed a single hit."
Tom nodded grimly. "And he's still controlling the flow of the entire battle."
Even Grant looked shaken. "I've seen gym leaders get overwhelmed by Giovanni's tactics. But this kid…"
Nobody said it out loud, but everyone was thinking the same thing.
David might actually be winning.
Not through brute strength or explosive power—but through cunning, grit, and whatever bizarre improvisational style he'd developed after spending way too much time in dangerous places with only a wrench and a high-level sand monster.
Giovanni frowned harder now.
"Dusknoir," he said again, voice lower, "watch his patterns. Next time, don't fall for the Substitute."
But even he knew something wasn't quite right.
Dusknoir had only used one attack this entire match: Brick Break. Thanks to Taunt, it couldn't access any of its specialty utility moves. And David kept denying it with move after move designed to waste its time and exhaust its attacks.
The audience could feel the tension. And for all the power Dusknoir had, it had yet to touch Tyranitar even once.
Meanwhile, that egg in Giovanni's hand was still shaking—louder now, faster.
Time was running out.
And everyone knew it.
****
Giovanni furrowed his brows as he studied the battlefield. For once, his smug skeletal grin was absent. His usually cold eyes now flickered with something unexpected—respect... and even a pinch of excitement?
Across from him stood David, sleeves rolled up, wrench stuffed back in his belt, barking commands like he was born in a war zone instead of whatever Pacific City high school he'd escaped from.
"Interesting," Giovanni muttered, fingers tightening around the Pokémon egg in his arm.
David had already used three moves: Taunt, Protect, and Substitute. No offense, all defense. But the kid had pulled off something most full-grown Trainers with tax returns couldn't.
A brand-new strategy. Original. Functional. Annoyingly effective.
Giovanni's lips curled into a twisted grin.
"Let's crank the heat," he called out. "Dusknoir, Fire Punch!"
This earned confused looks from almost everyone watching.
"Wait," whispered Tom, who was watching from behind a sandbag with wide eyes. "Why Fire Punch? He was using Brick Break. That's four times effective against Tyranitar!"
Luna leaned closer to him, blinking. "Maybe he hit his head in the Mystery Zone."
Even Commander Grant narrowed his eyes, the wind ruffling his uniform. "No... that's not a mistake. It's bait."
The camp went quiet as Dusknoir vanished into the shadows like a whisper on the wind.
And then—
BOOM.
It erupted from Tyranitar's shadow, fist flaming with supernatural fire, launching a flaming haymaker at its back.
David didn't flinch.
"Substitute!" he shouted.
And just like that, Tyranitar created a mini-me version of itself again, complete with rock armor and bad attitude. The flaming punch collided with the substitute—
WHAM!
But unlike last time… the substitute survived the hit.
David's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Giovanni's with… joy?
"Yesss…" Giovanni hissed, eyes glowing with anticipation. "That's it. Push it. Show me everything you've got."
David, meanwhile, didn't have time for philosophical admiration. He was playing stall tactics with a madman holding a baby nuke in egg form.
Giovanni snapped his fingers. "Dusknoir, Encore! Then back to Brick Break!"
David instantly shot back, "Tyranitar, Protect!"
Tyranitar folded its arms, and once again that beautiful shimmering emerald shield flared to life, blocking the crushing ghost-hand from above like a brick wall stopping a meteor.
"Encore! Fire Punch!" Giovanni ordered, growing increasingly gleeful.
Dusknoir, flaming fist primed, swung again.
This time, the substitute crumbled. The mini-Tyranitar let out a silent roar and dissolved into nothingness.
David's face tightened. But his voice remained cool and composed.
"Substitute... and Rest!"
"WHAT?!"
The entire garrison camp blinked in confusion as Tyranitar let out a pleased grumble, curled up right there in the middle of the battlefield—and fell asleep.
"...Is he serious?" Tom muttered.
"Did he just tuck in his Tyranitar mid-battle?" Luna added.
Even Giovanni looked stunned for a half-second.
The Rest move shimmered over Tyranitar as it recovered its HP, snoozing peacefully while sand whipped across the battlefield.
Commander Grant whispered, "He's using Rest instead of Toxic… but with Protect, Substitute, and Taunt in rotation... this is…"
He didn't finish.
Everyone watching knew what this was.
A full-blown stall tank strategy.
No attacks. No gimmicks. Just raw endurance, regeneration, and infinite annoyance.
The look in Giovanni's eye had shifted again—from amusement, to admiration, to something dangerously close to pride.
"Impressive," he said slowly. "I didn't think a high schooler had it in them."
He actually started clapping.
"Bravo. You've done something I haven't seen in years. You've turned Tyranitar into a fortress. The ultimate defense. If the Alliance has any sense, they'll be handing you a seat among the Elites within a year."
David—still focused—ignored the compliment. His eyes stayed locked on the Pokémon egg in Giovanni's hand.
It was shaking like a maraca on steroids now. Cracks glowed faintly red along its surface. Time was almost up.
Meanwhile, Giovanni was positively gleaming.
"Still… it's a shame."
He turned toward Dusknoir.
"Taunt has ended. Let's begin. Dusknoir—Disable."
Dusknoir's single red eye glowed as it raised both arms, and a shimmering blue psychic energy erupted from its body in a wave.
The energy curled through the air and hit the sleeping Tyranitar like a fog.
David's eyes went wide. "No…"
"Rest was the last move it used," Giovanni said quietly, smugly. "It's been disabled."
Tyranitar, still napping, twitched slightly.
David clenched his jaw.
Rest was now unusable.
And with that, Giovanni had just removed the most important part of David's strategy—the regeneration.
Now, every Substitute would cost HP. And once that pool ran out...
He wouldn't be able to recover.
The tide of the battle had shifted.
Commander Grant exhaled. "He cut off the healing. Smart."
Tom looked at him. "Does that mean David's gonna lose?"
Grant didn't answer.
Luna watched the battlefield, her hands clutching the edge of a steel crate. "He still has his defense... but that egg's going to hatch any second. If that Larvitar really is infused with ultra-ancient power…"
Everyone was thinking the same thing.
David's strategy had been nearly flawless.
But time was no longer his ally.
And Giovanni? He wasn't just stalling anymore.
He was striking back.
****
"Dusknoir! Will-O-Wisp!" Giovanni finally snapped, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
At his command, eerie blue flames shimmered into existence around Dusknoir, floating lazily like spectral jellyfish that had missed their haunting appointments. They bobbed forward through the sandstorm, homing in on the snoozing Tyranitar like a bad dream made of spicy barbecue.
And poor Tyranitar—fast asleep mid-nap—started twitching. Its emerald-green armored body sizzled as the flames wrapped around it. A sizzling snap-crackle-pop echoed as the burn settled in. It wasn't a dream anymore; this was one of those wake-up-in-sweat-and-question-your-life kind of nightmares.
The camp collectively cringed.
David winced. "Oof. That's not going away with aloe vera."
While Tyranitar snored tragically, flames dancing off its sides, the situation became clear.
David had already used all four of his carefully chosen moves: Taunt, Protect, Substitute, and Rest. An ironclad stalling strategy. The classic combo of trolling and tanking.
Giovanni, however, had used only four moves as well: Brick Break, Fire Punch, Disable, and now Will-O-Wisp.
But the difference was chilling.
Giovanni hadn't just been battling. He'd been dissecting David's strategy with surgical precision, letting it unfold like a movie he already knew the ending to—just so he could enjoy the popcorn and the crushing disappointment on the protagonist's face.
Even worse, he had held back. Like a teacher letting a kindergartener feel good about winning a spelling bee—then showing them a dictionary the size of a Gyarados.
The gap between them was painfully obvious.
"I hope you're not thinking this is enough," Giovanni said, his voice dry. "If all you've got is defense, I'm afraid your Tyranitar isn't going to last long."
His Dusknoir floated menacingly, fire flickering at its spectral fists, while Giovanni casually inspected the egg in his other hand. A reminder to everyone: once that egg hatches, things go from scary to apocalyptic.
David, though, was still locked in.
And then Giovanni said something unexpected.
"In regular Pokémon tournaments, Trainers are restricted to four moves per Pokémon. That keeps it fair, manageable—forces strategy under pressure." His grin twitched. "But this isn't a tournament."
David blinked. "What?"
Giovanni nodded. "I'm saying you don't have to stick to four moves. Go on—let's see what else you've got. Impress me."
The camp fell silent.
Even Tyranitar twitched in its sleep, possibly dreaming of bigger move pools and more comfortable beds.
David looked at the battlefield. Then at his flaming Tyranitar. Then at Giovanni, who clearly thought he was being generous. His brain caught up.
"You think I'm not using other moves because I'm playing fair?" David yelled, pointing dramatically at his snoring dinosaur. "He's ASLEEP, dude! I'm not Gandhi. I'm stuck!"
Giovanni's ghostly composure cracked for a moment.
"…Oh."
[+1000 Negative Emotion from Giovanni…]
[+2000…]
[+3000…]
He coughed awkwardly. "Well. Carry on."
David didn't need telling twice. As soon as Tyranitar's eye cracked open, David dove into his bag of tricks like a madman at a garage sale.
He opened the move list.
His eyes glimmered.
"Tyranitar!" he roared. "Taunt! Scary Face! Swagger! Thunder Wave! Hit him with the full villain arc!"
Everyone: "…"
Luna covered her face with both hands.
Tom turned around like he was trying to pretend David didn't exist.
Grant muttered, "I need a transfer out of Pacific City. Immediately."
Tyranitar, however, roared back to life like a kaiju on espresso.
David's face lit up with determination. "You won't let me win with strength? Fine. I'll win by being the most annoying Trainer in existence!"
He reached back, grabbed his trusty wrench—which he still hadn't put away—and clenched it like it was the Keyblade of Chaos.
"If my Pokémon can't beat you, it's their problem. But if I can't beat you, that's on me!"
The wrench gleamed in the sand-filtered sunlight like a beacon of absurdity.
"Tyranitar! Sandstorm—crank it up to 11! And follow with Dark Pulse!"
Tyranitar let out a thunderous roar that echoed across the battlefield, as the swirling winds picked up again. But this time, something was… different.
The sand didn't blow or swirl chaotically.
It froze.
Midair.
Individual grains of sand hovered in perfect suspension, locked in space like time itself had paused. David's eyes widened. "What the heck…"
The camp held its breath.
Even Dusknoir, perpetually emotionless, looked vaguely creeped out.
Tyranitar took a single step forward. The suspended grains began to move—upward.
Not falling. Not blowing. Just levitating skyward as if Tyranitar had reversed gravity through sheer attitude.
And in that eerie silence, a ball of pitch-black and violet energy formed in Tyranitar's mouth.
Dark Pulse.
And not just any Dark Pulse—this one looked like it had been forged in the deepest pits of the internet's comment sections.
The pulse launched forward, ripping through the sand with a banshee wail, twisting the air into a roaring black vortex.
Sand whipped toward the heavens, dragging clouds of dust and debris. Visibility dropped to zero.
But one thing still gleamed through the storm:
Tyranitar—standing at the center, roaring defiantly as if declaring dominion over gravity itself.
Its armor was slick with grit and fire, the emerald plates ringing out as sand hit them like steel drums. And behind it, the sun punched through the clouds, casting a divine glow like Tyranitar was the King of Sandstorm.
David's mouth dropped.
"Did—did we just break physics?"
Luna whispered, "Is this… is this legal?"
Tom whispered back, "I don't think he's legal."
Grant, utterly bewildered, simply said, "I've been in three regional wars and a hostage crisis. And that was the scariest thing I've ever seen."
Even Giovanni—watching from across the sandstorm—squinted through the gloom.
His pupils shrank.
The sheer pressure… the weather itself obeying Tyranitar like it was a demigod. It was beyond anything even he had expected.
His heart thudded once in his chest. Then he smiled slowly.
"Fascinating…"