"Ladies and Gentlemen, today was the day that we've been all waiting for! The Novice Clash Tournament will start now!"
"Now... for all of those who's watching from home, watching from other regions. This tournament is popular in our region because our Pokemon Champion won the very first tournament! Not only him, but also many known trainers have competed in this before making it to the top!"
"Let me introduce you to the past champions of this tournament."
A holographic platform floated in the middle, showing five figures circling at the edge of the platform.
"First... We got the number one trainer... The strongest one who's never been beaten in a battle... The best in our region... The Pokemon Champion of all Adele Region, Caesar Monarch!"
Caesar Monarch. Even in holographic form, his presence was immense. He wore an immaculate white battle coat with a high collar, a fluffy, dark blue scarf draped around his neck. His hair was an explosion of platinum spikes. The undisputed Champion of the Adele Region. The man who had started his public ascent right here, in this tournament. A symbol of the pinnacle one could reach through the system Xycle despised.
The crowd's roar reached a fever pitch.
"Next! A trainer whose style is as calculated as her battles! The Top Stratagem and one of the Elite Four, Paloma Nogate!"
The hologram shifted. A woman appeared, striking a pose. She wore towering heels and an oversized, asymmetrical jacket in violent shades of magenta and black. Large, mirrored shades hid her eyes. Her hair was an architectural marvel of blonde twists.
"Third! A man of mystery and devastating grace! The Phantom of the Battle Circuit, Nate Smith!"
A figure in a perfectly tailored tuxedo bowed. A simple, elegant white mask covered the upper half of his face. He represented the allure of the hidden, the power that played with secrecy.
"Fourth! Well, you all know him! Before he was the philanthropist hosting this event, he was a champion on this very field! Give it up for your host, John Wellingham!"
A younger John appeared, grinning rakishly in a vintage racing hoodie, a trophy held carelessly over his shoulder. He looked hungry, ambitious, a contrast to the luxury of the man who had addressed them in the lounge.
"And finally! A hero who needs no introduction! The savior of Lu' Laguna, the trainer who stood against the Legion! Yanna Scarlett!"
The final hologram was of a young woman bundled in a massive, cream-colored fluffy coat, her fiery red hair tied in a deliberately messy bun. She offered a small, tired but genuine smile, holding a worn pokeball.
The five champions circled the platform, a pantheon of what this tournament could create: The Unbeatable Champion. The Strategic Elite. The Mysterious Ace. The Rich Benefactor. And The Hero.
This is where legends begin. This is the path to becoming someone.
"These legends started right where you stand today!" The announcer screamed, whipping the crowd into a fresh frenzy. "Now, let's meet the future! Let the first matches BEGIN!"
A gate of the tunnel hissed open, flooding the corridor with light and deafening sound. A digital sign above it flashed: FIRST MATCHUP: ELIAS vs. TERRY.
Elias took a deep breath, the arena air filling his lungs. He stepped out of the tunnel and into the blinding light. The roars of ten thousand people crashed over him like a physical wave.
The sunlight on the battlefield was brutal, a sharp contrast to the shadowed tunnels. The noise was a living thing, a wall of sound that made thought difficult. Across the wide, rectangular field, another gate opened.
Terry walked out. He was exactly as Elias remembered from the lounge: tall, broad-shouldered, with a shaved head that gleamed under the stadium lights. He moved not hurriedly, owning the space he entered. His expression was the same unshakeable focus. There was no smile for the crowd, no wave. His eyes, small and dark, were locked on Elias from sixty feet away. He carried only one pokeball, the same one he'd been polishing.
The referee, a woman in a crisp black-and-white uniform, stood on a raised platform between them. Her voice was amplified, cutting through the crowd's din.
"Trainers! This is a standard one-on-one match! The first trainer to render their opponent's pokemon unable to battle is the winner! Release your pokemon on my signal!"
Elias's hand went to his belt. The choice was simple. Terry was a power fighter. Staravia was a great choice for this battle. It would give him an incredible chance to win by earning the high ground.
"Ready?" The referee called, raising her flags.
Elias gave a single nod. Terry did the same, his jaw tight.
"BEGIN!"
Both arms snapped forward.
"Go! Staravia!"
"Hawlucha! Let's go!"
The two pokemon materialized in flashes of light. Staravia burst into the air with a sharp cry, its wings beating powerfully as it claimed the sky.
The Hawlucha landed in a low, agile crouch, its red and white "mask" stark against its green body, its wings looking more like a cape flaring out.
Elias narrowed his eyes instantly. He thought gaining the high ground will be an advantage, but now, looking at the luchador pokemon, he knew it's not.
"Wing Attack, Hawlucha! Close the gap!"
Hawlucha shot forward, its wings glowing with white energy, moving with startling speed in a sharp, low arc, aiming to clip Staravia before it could gain full altitude.
"Evade and gain height, Staravia!"
Staravia banked hard, the Wing Attack grazing its tail feathers. It beat its wings furiously, climbing. But Hawlucha was relentless.
"Don't let it breathe! Aerial Ace!" Terry barked again.
Hawlucha vanished in a blur of motion, becoming a streak of white and green. It wasn't just fast, the move guaranteed a hit if it connected. It was closing the distance Staravia had just created in an instant.
Elias saw the trajectory. A simple dodge wouldn't work. He had to meet force with force, to disrupt the guaranteed strike.
"Staravia, Aerial Ace. Meet it head on."
Staravia, still climbing, tucked its wings and pivoted. With a shriek, it too became a blur of brown and white, diving back down to meet the ascending Hawlucha.
The collision happened mid-air, twenty feet above the battlefield.
CRACK!
A shockwave of displaced air rippled outwards. For a second, they were locked together, a knot of struggling wings and talons, a snapshot of violent motion against the bright sky.
Then they broke apart, spiraling away from each other, both shaken but unyielding. The crowd, which had been roaring, gasped as one, then erupted into even louder cheers. This was no one-sided stomp. This was a battle.
Both pokemon righted themselves, circling each other warily in the open air above the field. Staravia was panting slightly, a few feathers askew. Hawlucha flexed its shoulders, its masked face unreadable.
"Hawlucha, Use Thunder Punch!"
"Staravia, Use Double Team, then Gust."
The commands rang out almost simultaneously.
Hawlucha's fist crackled to life with electricity, the air sizzling around it as it dove towards the circling Staravia.
As it shot forward, Staravia seemed to shimmer. Then it split. One, two, four, eight identical Staravia burst into existence around the original, all mirroring its flight path in a chaotic, swirling cloud of brown and white feathers.
Hawlucha's electrified fist passed harmlessly through a phantom, the clone dissolving into nothingness with a pop of displaced air.
Hawlucha hovered, its sharp eyes darting between the swirling duplicates.
Every clone, along with the real Staravia, beat its wings in unison. But only one produced a tangible effect. From the true Staravia, a powerful, focused gust of wind erupted as a concentrated lance of air.
It struck Hawlucha square in the chest just as it was trying to pick its target.
The luchador was knocked back through the air, tumbling end over end, its flight pattern disrupted.
The crowd roared, loving the tactical back-and-forth.
"Shake it off!" Terry yelled, recovering. "Use Air Slash on every Staravia!"
Hawlucha, righting itself mid-tumble, shook off the disorientation. It raised a wing, the edge glowing with a sharp, white light. With a sharp cry, it sliced the air.
Not one, but multiple crescent blades of compressed air shot out in a wide, horizontal arc, each one seeking a different Staravia clone.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
One by one, the Staravias were struck and dissolved into nothingness. Terry's strategy was working.
But as the seventh clone vanished, Terry's eyes darted across the now-empty airspace where the clones had been. The eighth clone, the one at the highest point of the swirling formation, had also been hit and dissolved.
The real Staravia was nowhere to be seen among the falling feathery motes.
Terry's eyes narrowed. His gaze snapped upward, past his Hawlucha, into the blinding glare of the sunlight high above.
There, a mere speck against the glass ceiling, was a single, dark shape. Staravia. It hadn't been part of the clones at all. The real Staravia had used the chaos of its own Double Team and the Gust to break away and climb, climbing higher and higher while Hawlucha was distracted by the phantoms below.
Terry's jaw clenched. He'd been out-thought.
"Hawlucha, above you! Don't let it—!"
"Staravia, finish this. Use Brave Bird!"
The tiny speck high above stopped climbing. For a heartbeat, it seemed to hang motionless against the light. Then, it turned.
A sound like a tearing sheet of metal filled the arena as Staravia ignited. It became a screaming comet of blue-white energy, trailing a wake of furious light.
Hawlucha, still reeling from the sudden shift in threat, began to glow with the gathering white energy. But it was too slow. It had been looking down when it needed to look up.
The brave Staravia struck it down with incredible force, its wing hitting Hawlucha's side.
WHUMP—BAM!!
The impact drove the air from ten thousand lungs. Hawlucha was blasted out of the sky, and slammed into the ground with enough force to crater it.
Its eyes swirling.
Staravia arced up after the hit, and landed roughly on its feet beside the crater. Staravia stood, panting heavily, feathers ruffled and singed from the recoil, but its eyes were clear and sharp. It let out a tired, but triumphant cry.
The stadium was utterly silent for three full seconds.
Then, it erupted.
"WOOOOO!!"
The roar was deafening.
The referee, looking as stunned as anyone, finally found her voice.
"Hawlucha is unable to battle! The winner is Elias!"
Elias recalled Staravia to its ball, giving the warm capsule a slight, acknowledging touch.
Across the field, Terry stood frozen. The grim focus had shattered into blank shock. He recalled his fallen Hawlucha, stared at the ball for a long moment, then turned and walked off the field without looking back.
Elias turned and walked back into the tunnel, the adulation of the crowd washing over him. A small smile finally formed on his lips as he walked away.
"There you go folks! The first matchup for the first round is finish! Trainer Elias had won the battle!" The annoucer's voice boomed all across the arena. "The second matchup for the first round will start right away! Trainer Ellen versus Trainer Pitt!
The roar of the crowd faded behind Elias as the tunnel door sighed shut. He was halfway back to the competitor's lounge when a flicker of movement ahead made him stop.
Ellen stood at a junction where two service tunnels met, her back partially turned. She was fiddling with the tail of her Pikachu, but her movements were stiff, jerky. As Elias approached, she seemed to sense him. Her shoulders tensed. She didn't turn around, but her head dipped slightly, her hair falling to obscure her face.
Elias slowed his pace but didn't stop walking. He passed her without a word, because he could feel the tension radiating from her. There was nothing to say.
The lounge door hissed open ahead of him. The noise from within was subdued compared to the arena—a murmur of nervous conversation, the clink of a glass. Trainers were waiting for their turn huddled in small groups, tending to their pokemon.
As Elias entered, a boy with messy brown hair broke away from his twin brother and walked towards the exit, his expression a mix of determination and anxiety.