Evening settled gently over Ravios as golden lamplight began to glint against marble streets and the glowing silhouette of the Grand Coliseum. The group of young trainers—Shion, Ren, Vince, Mila, and a now pie-stuffed Bidoof—ambled through the crowd after a satisfying dinner, the buzz of the tournament still thick in the air.
They'd chosen to watch a few more matches before calling it a night. The crowd roared in waves as one battle after another lit up the arena below, trainers and Pokémon both giving their all under the massive banners of the Ravelle Kingdom. Each match seemed more intense than the last—closer, faster, fiercer.
After the final match of the night, the group filtered out with the rest of the audience, stretching and yawning as the stars glittered above. They'd made it this far. Tomorrow, the Top 32.
"Hopefully," Vince muttered with a dry chuckle. "Assuming I'm picked."
"You better be," Mila said, nudging his arm. "They need someone to shake things up."
Shion smiled but said little, his thoughts already drifting to tomorrow. The tournament had grown more brutal with each round, and something deep inside him—equal parts nervousness and exhilaration—was stirring.
They said their goodbyes for the night, agreeing to meet up in the morning to see the Top 32 brackets. With a short wave, Shion turned and made his way back to the inn.
---
The Next Morning
Ravios awoke early, as if the entire city had collectively decided to skip sleep in favor of adrenaline. The sun had barely risen, but the streets were already alive with movement—merchants calling out their wares, trainers jogging with their Pokémon, guards organizing the queue into the Coliseum.
Shion rubbed his eyes, still groggy. He had tossed and turned all night, his nerves creeping up in quiet whispers. Now, walking toward the Coliseum, he found the energy around him contagious. Even Bidoof, who still peeked from the satchel with heavy-lidded eyes, looked marginally more alert.
His stomach growled.
"Should probably eat something…" he muttered.
A modest bakery sat near the Coliseum gates, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. Without thinking, he stepped inside, the warm scent hitting him like a lullaby.
But just as he turned with a roll in hand—
He bumped into someone.
The air shifted.
Shion froze.
The man in front of him turned slightly, revealing sharp features beneath a mane of jet-black hair streaked with deep blue. His eyes were pale, almost silver, and devoid of warmth. He radiated calm—not forced calm, but something colder. Complete, natural stillness.
Kosuke.
The one who defeated Ren.
The man with the Plate.
Their eyes met.
Shion couldn't move. His fingers clenched slightly around the bread in his hand, and he could feel something—some ancient pressure—pressing on his chest like an invisible weight. Kosuke didn't say a word. He simply regarded Shion, head tilted slightly, as though reading him.
Then, after what felt like a full minute, Kosuke turned and stepped forward to collect his own purchase, his back retreating into the morning sunlight.
Shion exhaled.
"I forgot to breathe…"
> "That man…" Bidoof's voice murmured from the satchel, its tone lower and more serious than usual. "He's bonded to it."
Shion blinked, "Bonded?"
> "To the Plate. Fully. It's become part of him."
Shion stared at the retreating figure. "How… how's that even possible?"
> "I don't know," Bidoof admitted. "My memories—when I lost my power, they became scattered. That's probably why I don't recognize all the pieces anymore…"
The admission made Shion pause. He turned slightly, glancing at the rodent now sulking in the satchel.
"You're supposed to be Arceus. You're supposed to know these things."
> "And I'm telling you, I don't," Bidoof snapped irritably. "You think I like not knowing why someone else can tap into my Plates?"
Shion sighed, buying a second roll and a small pie to hand back to the creature. "Alright, alright. Calm down. Here."
> "I'm still mad," Bidoof muttered through a mouthful of crust. "But I'll allow it."
Shion shook his head, munching on his own bread as he made his way through the Coliseum gates.
---
By the time he reached the bracket boards, the crowd had swelled again. But this time, there were far fewer names to look through.
Only 32 remained.
"Hey!" Mila waved from the front. "You're late."
Shion grinned, weaving his way through the small crowd toward them. "Sorry. I, uh… ran into someone."
Ren was already standing near the display, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the board silently. Vince gave Shion a tired shrug.
"Any luck?" Shion asked.
Vince shook his head.
"Not picked," he said simply. "I guess there were others who stood out more."
There was disappointment in his voice, but no bitterness.
"I guess that's just how it goes."
"You still did great," Mila reassured. "Honestly, this has been one of the most competitive tournaments in years."
Shion nodded. "You'll get your rematch someday."
Vince grinned. "Better believe it."
Then they looked to the side panel—Wild Card Revival.
Seven names had been posted.
At the top of the list was:
> Ren
"Woah," Shion murmured.
Vince blinked, then slapped Ren on the back. "Look at you, Mr. Stoic, sneaking back in."
Ren, who had only raised an eyebrow at the news, gave a small nod. "I'll make the most of it this time."
"Who're you up against?" Mila asked, already scanning the next bracket.
Ren leaned in and read aloud. "Thessia."
Mila's eyes widened slightly. "She's the one with the Serperior. She uses some kind of unorthodox movement technique—really tricky."
Ren gave a soft hum. "I'll figure it out."
Shion stepped forward, searching for his own name in the bracket.
"Kaelan," he read aloud. "Who's that?"
Mila pursed her lips. "Kaelan of the Isle of Varis. Isolated territory. They don't participate in much international competition, but they've produced some scary strong trainers. Strategic. Tough. Likes to wear down opponents before striking."
"Sounds… awful," Shion muttered, his stomach turning slightly.
"You'll do fine," Mila reassured.
Shion didn't answer immediately. He thought back to every round of this tournament so far—every time he barely scraped by. Even against Vince, he was only a breath away from losing.
And now?
Now the real tournament began.
He'd have to fight smarter. Harder. Luck wasn't going to save him this time.
"I'm fine," he said at last, and maybe he even believed it. "Just need a moment."
They gave him space, and together, the group made their way to the stands to catch the next few matches. The sky was bright, the crowd already buzzing with anticipation.
Tomorrow, it would be their turn again.
But for now… the Top 32 had begun.
The crowd's roar filled the sky like a tidal wave crashing over stone. The Grand Coliseum trembled under the excitement of the Top 32 round. The energy was electric—battle after battle unfolding across the multiple arenas now active in tandem.
Shion and the rest of the group—Mila, Vince, and Ren—had claimed seats high enough to offer a clear view of the field, yet low enough to hear the sounds of battle: the clash of attacks, the cries of Pokémon, the gasp of the audience.
The current battle they watched was a tense standoff between a mercenary-turned-trainer from the northern steppes and a noble's son representing Ravelle's eastern provinces. The mercenary's Tyrantrum had just countered a Dragon Pulse with a powerful Ice Fang, shaking the arena as it roared.
"They're just getting stronger," Vince said, arms crossed, watching intently.
"No kidding," Shion replied, leaning forward. "The coordination... It's nuts."
Mila nodded. "At this level, it's not just about power. Every move is a decision."
They watched a few more matches, each more intense than the last. There was one with a Gardevoir that turned the tide of battle with Trick Room, and another where a Talonflame weaved around a Steelix like a bird of flame dancing through a storm.
But then—Ren's name was called.
The group quieted, turning toward the central field.
Ren stood, his face calm and unreadable as always. He adjusted his gloves and walked silently down the path that led to the battleground, the crowd parting around him like mist before a mountain.
Shion watched him go.
"He's got this," Vince said.
Mila smiled, though there was a touch of concern in her eyes. "I hope so. Thessia's tough."
The moment Ren entered the arena, the noise swelled again. He walked with the focus of someone who didn't hear any of it.
Across from him stood Thessia.
A young woman with cool silver hair braided into twin ropes that framed her narrow face. She wore a long, flowing cloak of deep indigo trimmed with gold, a stark contrast to Ren's more utilitarian black and grey. Her eyes—sharp, precise—studied Ren with practiced calm.
They exchanged no words.
The referee raised one hand, voice echoing across the coliseum.
"Trainers, release your Pokémon."
Ren's hand moved in a smooth, practiced arc. "Braviary—let's go."
With a brilliant burst of light, his Braviary soared into the air with a screech that echoed across the arena. Its feathers gleamed, each beat of its wings sending gusts across the stands.
Thessia remained still. Then with a flick of her wrist, her Pokéball cracked open.
"Alakazam," she said, almost lazily.
The air shimmered, and the psychic-type emerged, eyes glowing faintly as it hovered in place, arms folded, twin spoons gripped in hand. Its entire being exuded precision, its mustache twitching as if already calculating probabilities.
Shion leaned forward. "Alakazam… That's going to be tough."
"Fast," Mila added. "And dangerous. Especially in Thessia's hands."
The referee's hand sliced the air.
"Begin!"
Braviary launched itself skyward instantly, wings tucking in briefly to gain altitude. The air rippled with the force of its ascent.
"Calm Mind," Thessia said simply.
Alakazam closed its eyes for a breath, its body glowing softly as psychic energy shimmered around it. Its focus sharpened, boosting both its Special Attack and Special Defense in a single move.
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"Braviary—Tailwind."
The great bird cried out, beating its wings hard. Wind kicked up from behind it, and suddenly a shimmering trail of speed followed Braviary like a slipstream. It glided faster now, practically blurring across the arena.
"She's powering up, so he's speeding up," Vince observed.
"Smart," Mila said. "He's playing to Braviary's speed. He wants to hit hard before Alakazam gets dangerous."
Thessia's voice rang out again. "Energy Ball."
Alakazam's eyes flashed open as a green sphere of grass type energy gathered between its hands. With a flick, it hurled the orb through the air, fast and crackling with power.
"Dodge and retaliate!" Ren called.
Braviary twisted in mid-air, the Shadow Ball barely missing as it exploded against the stadium wall with a loud crack. The wind carried Braviary into a dive, glowing with the golden shimmer of a Brave Bird.
Alakazam didn't move.
Shion tensed. "She's not calling a dodge?"
"Focus Blast," Thessia commanded calmly.
The ground under Alakazam shimmered as a bright sphere of concentrated energy formed and launched upward—directly into Braviary's path.
But Braviary, already mid-dive, couldn't pull out.
The two moves collided.
A shockwave rippled through the stadium. Braviary was sent tumbling backward, wings flaring wildly as it fought to recover. It landed roughly but upright, skidding across the dirt.
Alakazam, too, flinched—the Brave Bird had landed first before Focus Blast hit. Both Pokémon stood, breathing hard.
"Ren's pushing the tempo, but she's ready for every trade," Mila said.
"He needs something bigger," Vince murmured.
Back on the field, Ren nodded slightly.
"Fine. Let's raise the stakes. Braviary, use Roost."
The bird landed, folding its wings, a soft white glow enveloping its body as its wounds began to knit and feathers regrew.
"Calm Mind again," Thessia said.
Another shimmer. Another rise in psychic strength.
Alakazam was beginning to glow faintly now—too many boosts, and it would become unstoppable.
Ren looked up, exhaled. "That's enough."
"Braviary, Sky Drop!"
The bird leapt from the ground, streaking forward with a burst of energy and grabbing Alakazam midair. It flapped hard, lifting the psychic-type with surprising ease, carrying it higher and higher despite the struggling.
Shion's eyes widened. "That's risky! Alakazam could hit it while being carried."
"She's not going to let that happen," Mila said, leaning forward.
Sure enough—Thessia reacted.
"Teleport."
In a blink of light, Alakazam vanished from Braviary's grip—and reappeared across the arena, eyes glowing dangerously now.
"Psychic."
The moment it landed, Alakazam unleashed a wave of invisible force that hit Braviary mid-flight.
The impact sent the bird crashing downward. Ren gritted his teeth as Braviary hit the dirt, wings splayed.
The crowd gasped.
Dust filled the air.
But slowly… Braviary stirred.
Wings flapped. It stood again.
"Atta boy," Ren murmured. "One more."
Thessia's eyes narrowed. "Finish it. Focus Blast."
But this time, Ren was ready.
"Braviary—use Whirlwind!"
Before the Focus Blast could form, Braviary let out a shrieking gale that blasted across the arena, forcing Alakazam off-balance. The charged energy faded.
"That was to buy time," Mila noted. "Good use of field control."
Ren pointed. "Now, Brave Bird!"
Braviary launched one more time, this time faster than ever thanks to Tailwind still lingering.
Alakazam tried to dodge, but it was too late.
The impact thundered across the arena.
When the dust cleared, Alakazam lay unconscious, body sprawled.
The referee raised a hand.
"Alakazam is unable to battle. The winner is Braviary."
The crowd cheered.
But Thessia didn't flinch. She simply returned Alakazam to its Pokéball.
"Not bad," she said softly.
Then, she raised another ball.
"Let's see how you handle this."
From the light emerged a towering Serperior, coils glistening like polished emerald. It stared down at Braviary with regal disdain.
Ren exhaled.
One down.
One more to go.
The stadium had settled into a focused hush.
Ren stood firm, staring across the field at the coiled form of Thessia's second Pokémon. The Serperior's emerald scales shimmered under the morning sun, its golden eyes narrowed in judgment. Its movements were smooth, subtle—a noble predator poised to strike.
On Ren's side, Braviary stood panting, wings still flared wide from its previous collision with Alakazam. The damage had accumulated. One more solid hit, and it wouldn't be able to continue.
Thessia didn't speak.
She merely raised her hand and flicked her fingers forward.
The Serperior reacted instantly.
"Leaf Storm," she said, her voice crisp.
In one fluid motion, Serperior coiled tighter and then unleashed a swirling vortex of razor-sharp leaves glowing with emerald energy. The storm screamed across the battlefield.
"Get airborne!" Ren shouted.
Braviary flapped hard, wings slicing the air as it lifted off, but the Leaf Storm was faster. It caught the bird mid-ascent, engulfing it in a cyclone of slicing leaves and roaring wind.
BOOM.
Braviary plummeted.
It hit the ground hard, rolling once before laying still.
The referee didn't even hesitate.
"Braviary is unable to battle."
A quiet murmur passed through the crowd.
Shion winced. "That Serperior's not just for show."
"Nope," Vince muttered. "It's like a whip made of steel."
Mila looked tense. "She went for max power. Leaf Storm is risky—it lowers her Special Attack. But… judging by that result…"
"She didn't need to hold back," Shion said softly.
Ren didn't flinch as he returned Braviary. He held the Pokéball for a moment longer than usual—then clipped it back to his belt.
He exhaled once.
And selected his next.
"Blaziken," Ren said.
From the crimson flash of light emerged his second Pokémon—a tall, imposing Blaziken. Its golden feathers rippled with heat. It crouched low, eyes glowing faintly behind the fringe of red plumage as it scanned the arena.
The moment its feet touched the ground, the heat shifted.
The tension changed.
"Blaziken, huh?" Vince leaned forward. "He's not wasting time. Going straight for the type advantage."
Mila nodded. "Good call. Grass-type moves won't work well. But Thessia's smart. She'll have something prepared."
The Serperior hissed, low and menacing. It slithered in place, waiting for a command.
Thessia was still silent.
Ren didn't wait.
"Blaziken—Flame Charge!"
A blur of fire and feathers, Blaziken ignited in a trail of flames as it dashed forward, speed increasing with each stride. The ground behind it scorched with every footfall.
Serperior's eyes narrowed.
"Glare."
In a blink, Serperior's body coiled tightly and then snapped forward, its golden eyes shining with an eerie glow.
Blaziken faltered mid-stride.
Its legs locked briefly.
"Paralysis," Shion said aloud, frowning.
But Ren was ready.
"Break through it. Blaze Kick!"
Blaziken pushed through the lock in its muscles with sheer force of will and leapt into the air, one leg cloaked in fire. It descended like a meteor, striking Serperior in the side with a fiery kick.
The crowd roared.
The blow landed.
Serperior cried out, tumbling across the field before it coiled again, body singed and steaming.
"Finally landed a solid hit," Vince said.
Ren gave his next command immediately. "Double Kick, now!"
Blaziken surged forward again. It struck—once, then twice—sending Serperior skidding back.
But Thessia's voice rang out—sharp and timed.
"Dragon Tail."
As Blaziken moved in for another strike, Serperior's tail glowed with draconic energy. It spun on its axis, slamming its tail into Blaziken's chest.
The blow was clean.
Blaziken grunted, sliding backward several feet—but stayed on its feet.
"Hang in there!" Ren shouted. "Use Bulk Up."
Blaziken's muscles tensed as it crouched, a faint red aura outlining its body. Its strength and resilience began to rise, even as it fought the paralysis still coursing through it.
Across the field, Serperior hissed, clearly getting frustrated.
Thessia narrowed her eyes. "You're stalling."
Ren didn't answer.
He just pointed.
"Now finish it—Blaze Kick!"
The flame on Blaziken's ankles flared to life. With explosive force, it leapt forward again, leg extended.
The Serperior tried to dodge, slithering back with incredible speed, but Blaziken's foot caught its flank again, fire bursting on contact.
The blow was enough.
Serperior's coils unraveled. It hit the ground, unconscious.
The referee raised his hand.
"Serperior is unable to battle. The winner is Ren of Ravelle Kingdom!"
The crowd erupted in applause.
Shion stood, clapping hard. "He did it!"
"That paralysis could've turned it," Vince said, grinning. "But Ren pulled through."
Mila let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "That was intense. But smart. He baited her with the type advantage, then played around Glare."
Back on the field, Ren exhaled slowly, returning Blaziken with a simple nod.
He didn't smile.
But there was something settled in his expression now.
He walked quietly back toward the waiting area, passing Thessia along the way. The girl met his eyes, and for the first time, she smiled faintly.
"You're strong," she said.
Ren gave the smallest nod. "I still have a long way to go."
---
The stone corridors of the Grand Coliseum echoed with footsteps, the sounds bouncing off marble and banners as Shion made his way to the waiting area. His hands were a little clammy. His heart? Uncooperative. It thudded against his ribs like a war drum.
The previous battles still rang in his head—Ren's sharp command, the blaze of fire and light, the crowd's roars. And now… it was almost his turn.
The waiting room was mostly empty, save for one other person.
A tall figure stood by the stone archway, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in calm observation. He looked to be in his early twenties—lean but solid, his limbs long and relaxed like a coiled whip. His hair was deep brown, woven into a long braid that draped across his shoulder. His features were smooth, but there was something sharp beneath his easy demeanor.
As Shion stepped in, the man turned toward him.
"You must be Shion."
The voice was smooth, casual. He pushed off the wall and strode over with confident steps. He wasn't hostile—not overtly—but his presence was like a breeze that hinted at a coming storm.
Shion blinked. "Y-yeah… that's me."
The man smiled, extending a hand. "I'm Kaelan. Isle of Varis."
Shion hesitated before shaking it. The man's grip was firm—just long enough to make a point, not long enough to seem aggressive.
Kaelan looked him over for a moment, nodding to himself.
"Didn't expect someone as young as you to make it this far."
Shion scratched the back of his neck. "Ah… yeah. Kinda unexpected for me too."
Kaelan chuckled. "Modest. I respect that."
There was a pause. Just long enough to make Shion wonder if the conversation had ended—until Kaelan spoke again.
"That Lycanroc of yours."
Shion blinked. "Huh?"
Kaelan's eyes sharpened a little. "The one you used in your last match. I saw it."
Shion tensed. He'd had this question before—about Kiba's strange orange coloration, his unusual energy. Most assumed it was some kind of rare mutation or regional variant. Shion had a rehearsed response for moments like this.
"Oh, that—uh, yeah, I think it's—"
Kaelan raised a hand.
"Don't lie."
His smile was gone.
Shion froze. Kaelan's expression had shifted completely. The casual, almost lazy demeanor had been swept aside like a curtain. His eyes were focused now, calculating. Watching every twitch in Shion's face.
"That's a Dusk Lycanroc," Kaelan said. "You're not fooling anyone who knows what to look for."
Shion's mouth dried instantly.
"I've seen one before," Kaelan continued. "But only once. Far to the east. It's rare. No—'rare' doesn't cover it. That form's supposed to be impossible without very specific conditions. And yet…"
He leaned in slightly.
"You have one."
Shion's heart thudded in his chest.
What was he supposed to say? That he found an injured Rockruff one evening and raised it with no idea what it would become? That he'd been told nothing about it
Kaelan's gaze didn't waver.
Then came the call.
"Shion and Kaelan—report to the Arena. "
Kaelan's sharpness didn't soften. He stared at Shion for another beat, then finally turned.
"Interesting," he muttered under his breath.
And with that, he walked away, his long braid swinging behind him like a serpent's tail.
Shion stood frozen for a moment, then finally exhaled, long and shaky.
What the hell was that? he thought. Who is this guy?
He watched Kaelan's back recede into the corridor, feeling more uncertain than ever.
Whatever this next battle was going to be—it wasn't going to be just about winning.
It was about secrets.
And whether Shion was ready to confront them.