"So it's already over?" Ash said with a hint of disappointment as he looked at the scene on the battlefield. He'd rushed over full of excitement to watch the match, only to find that he'd barely seen anything at all.
"Ash, you're here too?"
A familiar voice suddenly spoke up beside him.
"Brock! You came to watch his match as well?"
Ash turned around, and when he saw his traveling companion, his mood immediately lifted.
Brock folded his arms, rubbing his chin as his expression grew serious.
"I was just passing by and decided to stay and watch one match. Ash, you'd better be careful. That kid—Kael—is no ordinary trainer. For you, his strength is honestly terrifying. You should be mentally prepared."
"Is it really that exaggerated?"
Seeing how serious Brock looked, Ash couldn't help but feel a little unsettled.
"I'm not joking, and I'm not trying to discourage you."
Brock looked at Ash solemnly and continued,
"I watched that entire match just now. From the moment Tauros entered the field to the moment it completely lost its ability to fight, it took less than two seconds. It was taken down in a single Brick Break by Weavile. Do you understand what that means?"
"I… don't?"
At this point, aside from sheer passion—and the occasional flash of inspiration—asking Ash to deeply analyze something like this was honestly pushing his limits.
Brock gave him a knowing look and sighed.
"As a Pokémon Breeder, I can say with confidence that Tauros was trained very well—better than most, in fact. Its straight-line charge speed when it entered the field was incredible. But Weavile dodged the horn charge with nothing more than a simple sidestep and short footwork, then countered immediately with Brick Break."
He paused, his tone growing heavier.
"Weavile isn't even a Fighting-type. Without any type advantage, it still achieved a one-hit knockout. That can only mean one thing—its attack power has reached a truly frightening level. At the very least, it's something trainers like you simply wouldn't be able to withstand…"
"What do you mean 'ordinary trainers'?"
Ash frowned in dissatisfaction.
"I'm aiming to become a Pokémon Master, you know. And whether an opponent is really that strong—you won't know until you actually fight them. Even if he is powerful, I won't be afraid."
Sometimes, being a hot-blooded idiot is its own kind of happiness.
Most people, when facing an opponent far stronger than themselves, would feel anxious, fearful, overthink everything—and might even give up before the match began.
But Ash was different. He charged forward on nothing but passion, free of fear, brimming with fighting spirit toward powerful opponents. That, at least, was one of his few genuine strengths.
As the saying goes, a newborn calf fears no tiger.
Ash was that calf—and Kael was the young tiger standing before him.
...
Time quickly passed to 11:30 a.m., lunchtime.
The morning phase of the tournament came to a temporary close. A total of 120 trainers had been eliminated, and every remaining contestant had already survived six rounds of knockout matches.
The afternoon matches would run from 1:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.
Seven hours later, the champion of this Pokémon tournament would finally be decided.
As for Kael's six morning matches—
From the moment the referee announced the start to the moment the opposing Pokémon lost the ability to fight, not a single match lasted more than four seconds.
As a result, Kael's name spread rapidly throughout the S.S. Anne.
Spectators were stunned that such a terrifying trainer existed aboard the ship, while the remaining competitors grew increasingly uneasy. No one wanted to be eliminated—especially by someone who annihilated every opponent in an instant.
What was worse was that it didn't even look like Kael was using a third of his true strength. No one could imagine how frightening he would be if he fought seriously.
...
Monitoring Room
Watching the figure on the screen dominate the battlefield, Cole grinned so widely his mouth nearly split in two.
"Well? Boss!" he shouted excitedly.
"Isn't the guy I picked absolutely cracked? You'd never guess it normally, but the way he uses Weavile—even I feel scared watching it!"
"Your subordinate?"
Renard narrowed his eyes into thin slits, his fox-like expression returning.
"Cough—slip of the tongue! I meant… an undercover contact. An undercover contact."
Renard turned toward the silent, white-bearded old man beside him and smiled.
"Captain Hardwin, what do you think of this kid?"
"Hiring bounty hunters as external security was your idea,"
Captain Hardwin said heavily.
"Any accidents that happen along the way are your responsibility. Are you certain this kid isn't a Team Rocket mole? We recruited four bounty hunters—three of them turned out to be spies. I don't trust him."
Hearing this, Cole rolled his eyes internally.
What do you mean three were moles?
He was a League Investigator—what kind of 'mole' was that supposed to be?
"If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility."
Renard's voice was always gentle, but the moment he said this, his decisiveness became unmistakably clear.
"Cole," Renard called out sharply.
"Yes, sir!"
The usually lazy Cole instantly straightened, standing at full attention in a perfectly disciplined posture.
"Notify the others. Make sure all preparations are in place tonight. Double-check every net we've laid out. Tomorrow night—we reel in the big one."
"No problem, boss!"
Cole replied, flashing a familiar, sly grin once more.