Chapter Text
In the farthest outskirts of the barren Orre deserts, there stood a curious stone structure all alone. A brick walkway was lined with free-standing columns that appeared to hold up the very sky itself. Many of the columns were broken, crumbling to nothingness or tipped over, lying helpless on the ground now unable to do their duty. At the end of the column-lined path was a magnificent colosseum, also made of stone, weathered from decades, if not centuries, of abuse from the region’s coarse climate. This solitary fortress was known by only a select few elite trainers as the Orre Colosseum, home to some of the toughest Pokémon battles in the entire world. Grand tournaments were held every month to determine which of Orre’s trainers could truly be regarded as the best.
But that wasn’t what it was being used for on this day.
A small gathering of people crowded underneath the main arch. Some young, a few old, trainers and non-trainers alike standing in the presence of Orre’s greatest landmark for a common reason. Among the mingling crowd was a boy with spiky red hair that contrasted heavily with his bright green eyes, bangs held back by a blue headband. He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt underneath a striking yellow vest, baggy blue jeans with an item pouch strapped around the side, and black boots. This young man’s name was Michael. And he was heralded as one of the two great heroes of Orre, having successfully rescued the region, and quite possibly the world, from the clutches of a criminal organization who called themselves “Cipher.” The following years after Cipher’s defeat were peaceful, marked by a significant boost to the once-thought depleted wild Pokémon population, a drastic increase in tourism, and a flourishing economy under a number of new businesses that sprang up ready to take full advantage of both. On this very day, the brave young man that allowed this new age of prosperity to flourish, was turning sixteen years old, and this was his birthday party.
After some time, the partygoers dispersed, almost all of them moving up into the stands of the colosseum and splitting off into two groups, one on each side. Only two people remained at the bottom, Michael being one of them, both marching intently toward either side of the battle arena. Michael took his place on the left side, smoothly grabbing two Poké Balls from his belt, ready to throw them at any time. On the opposite side stood the one trainer that he still hadn’t managed to defeat in his last three years of being a proper Pokémon trainer. It was a man in his mid twenties, though he had a menacing air about him that made him seem older. He wore a long blue coat that trailed behind him, waving in the dry desert wind. Black pants, boots, and gloves made it so that not a single centimeter of skin beneath his neck was exposed to the elements. A pair of bulky silver goggles rested on pale blonde hair. And then there was his eyes: sharp, calculating, and a bold yellow color.
Michael knew him well. This was Wes, the first of Orre’s famous heroes. He was once a Pokémon thief under the notorious Team Snagem, but through a series of fateful events, would save the region from Cipher during their first takeover of the region eight years prior. The two had only met a handful of times, each meeting accompanied by an intense battle. But not once had Michael ever been able to defeat the legendary trainer. He wasn’t bothered by this, of course. The man had several more years of battling experience under his belt that no teenage boy could hope to match with talent alone. Plus, just getting to say that he battled his idol was enough, at least for a time. However, with each battle, he grew closer and closer to snatching victory from his childhood hero. Their first match was a one-sided sweep. On the fifth, Michael put up a commendable performance, managing to knock out half of Wes’s team. By the tenth, each battle was coming down to the wire. He knew that if he could just improve a little more, things would be different.
“What do you say, Michael? Feelin’ lucky today?” Wes asked, raising his voice so Michael could hear from the other end of the arena.
“You know me. Luck has nothing to do with it,” Michael answered, his voice shaking as much as his body was. He had been planning this battle for months. When Eagun informed him that Wes would be in the area for his birthday, he knew what had to be done. Between all the accumulated experience from their previous battles and Michael’s own testing through simulations, he felt like this could really be the one. That didn’t stop the nerves, though.
“Just relax, Michael! I believe in you!” A warm, caring voice shouted from the stands. It was Michael’s mother. His face flushed; suddenly, he was glad that this was a private event. Normally, people wouldn’t be allowed to use the region’s most prestigious battleground for birthday parties, but when both of the region’s heroes ask you for something, you do it. That kind of power was uncomfortably heavy a burden for someone as young as Michael, but he had to admit it could feel pretty good sometimes.
“Yeah! You’ve got this, big bro!” And that was Michael’s sister, Jovi. She was once quite the handful. Their mother liked to describe her as “spirited.” Luckily, she’d mellowed out somewhat over the last few years. Even if she occasionally slipped back into her bad “third-person speech” habit.
“Th-thanks, Mom… Jovi…” Michael said sheepishly.
A laugh from Wes echoed through the Colosseum. “It’s not every day we have an audience like this. Just ignore them and focus on the battle, okay? Especially since they’ll all be cheering for me by the end.”
“Wes! Don’t be mean!” This voice came from the other side of the stands, and it belonged to a woman the same age as Wes wearing a blue jacket lined with white fur. Her orange hair stood out amidst the other spectators. “I’m rooting for both of you!”
“Oh, c’mon Rui! Some trash talk before a battle never hurt anyone!” A different voice interjected, this one belonging to a man with pink hair wearing a leather bike suit.
Wes coughed into his fist. “R-right. Anyway…” He grabbed two Poké Balls of his own and held them up. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go!” Michael threw his Poké Balls into the center of the arena. His first two party members for this battle were Dragonite and Walrein, both heavy hitters. He would need them to get a good start. From Wes’s end came Flygon and Metagross, both extremely formidable in their own right. Wes had used this particular combination in several of their past battles, which Michael was banking on.
Wes made the first move. “Flygon, Sandstorm! Metagross, use Brick Break on Walrein!” The Dragon-type started vigorously flapping its wings to ship up dust and sand from the surrounding area. Within seconds, sand was flying throughout the arena, just barely stopping before reaching the viewers in the stands. Metagross, meanwhile, made a break straight for Walrein, raising up one of its massive metal legs.
“Dragonite, intercept with Extreme Speed!” The dragon flew through the air like a speeding jet, colliding with the blue titan and knocking it off balance.
“Flygon, Dragon Claw!” A blur of green appeared next to Dragonite from within the thick sandstorm, striking him with glowing claws and sending him plummeting to the ground.
“Come back, Dragonite!” Michael held up Dragonite’s Poké Ball, withdrawing him from the battle. He threw in another ball, this time summoning his lifelong partner, Jolteon.
Wes looked confused. “Jolteon against a Ground-type? All right, I’ll admit I’m curious.”
Michael steeled his resolve and held out a hand as he issued his next command. “Walrein, Snowscape!” The walrus grunted and expelled a white mist from its body. In an instant, the sandstorm was replaced with a light snowfall. “Now, use Ice Beam. And Jolteon, Weather Ball!” As Walrein fired a thin ray of ice from her mouth, Jolteon shot out a glowing white ball that hit Flygon at the same time. The combined might of the two Ice-type attacks were more than enough to take down a Dragon and Ground-type. The green dragon fell to the ground in an icy mist, unable to continue.
“Weather Ball?” Wes withdrew Flygon to its ball, looking equal parts impressed and annoyed. “Leave it to you to try weird stuff like that. Okay, let’s kick things up a notch. Come out, Ampharos!” A tall, yellow sheep Pokémon appeared, taking the place of Flygon. “Ampharos, use Thunderbolt. Metagross, Brick Break.” Ampharos fired off a shot of lightning from its body that zipped through the air straight for Walrein.
“Jolteon, get in there and absorb the—” Michael’s command was interrupted when Metagross struck Jolteon, sending it flying across the battlefield. “Jolteon, no!”
“You didn’t think I’d leave Jolteon alone, did you? You know me better than that.” Wes chuckled, now fully getting into the spirit of the battle, “Ampharos, one more thunderbolt should do it.” Sure enough, one last attack was all it took to fell the Water-type. Now, both sides had lost a Pokémon. Michael returned Walrein to its ball, taking the time to do the same for Jolteon, who had gotten back up to its feet, panting. A change of strategy was in order. “Marowak, Dragonite, you’re up!” Once they were in position, Michael got to work. “Marowak, Bonemerang. Dragonite, hold them down with a Hurricane!” A fierce wind overtook the arena, forcing Wes’s Pokémon to keep themselves steady. Marowak threw a hail of bones. A couple of them hit Metagross, but most struck Ampharos. When the Hurricane subsided, Ampharos was wobbling, now dazed from the effects of Hurricane, while Metagross was finally starting to wear down. “Now, Fire Punch!” Marowak rushed at the Steel-type, its hand engulfed in fire.
“Meteor Mash!” Metagross raised an arm to prepare a punch of its own. The two Pokémon landed their strikes simultaneously, but Metagross’s larger size allowed it to brush off Marowak’s attack. The Ground-type, had been knocked back, but was still standing.
“Dragonite, take down the Ampharos!” With another Extreme Speed, the already struggling Electric-type was down. Five to four—Michael had the advantage. The spectators were in awe. Already, it was starting to look like he could do it.
Wes smirked. “I see that look in your eyes. Don’t think you’ve won just yet.” He threw in his next Pokémon: one of his most trusted partners, Espeon. “Both of you, Psychic!”
“Dragonite, use Rain Dance!”
Both opponents channeled their Psychic energy, launching synchronized strikes on Michael’s team. Dragonite just barely had enough time to perform a quick ritual dance to summon a steady rainfall from over the Colosseum. Unfortunately, with the damage both Dargonite and Marowak had already sustained, both were struck down at the same time. In one fell swoop, the momentum had shifted back to Wes. Michael recalled both of his fallen Pokémon, his confidence quickly fading. He took a deep breath and readied his next two party members. “Jolteon, Gardevoir, let’s do this!” He steadied his shaking hand and put his penultimate plan into motion. “Use Thunder.” Jolteon’s fur sparked. Lightning burst from his body, much larger than a typical Thunderbolt.
“Espeon, Light Screen!” A thin square barrier appeared in front of the Psychic-type right before the attack landed. Not that it helped much; Espeon staggered, barely holding on from such a strong move.
Michael couldn’t let up. “Gardevoir, use Shadow Ball!” She fired a dark purple orb from her hands that flew across the arena and slammed into Metagross. At first, it didn’t seem to do much, but the giant metal Pokémon slowly tumbled and collapsed to the ground. From all their past battles, Michael recognized Metagross as one of the greatest threats on Wes’s team, and now it was out of the way. They were dead even now.
“Umbreon, go!” The second of Wes’s main partners took to the field, nodding to his Psychic-type friend. “Espeon, Sunny Day. Umbreon, Toxic!” The red gem on Espeon’s forehead glowed, and the rain quickly subsided, not replaced with a harsh sunlight. Well, harsher than usual, anyway. Umbreon ran at Gardevoir and shot poison from the barbs on the back of his paws
“Gardevoir, Moonblast!”
“Substitute!”
The humanoid Pokémon fired a bright ray of light at the Dark-type. But instead of Umbreon, a small green doll ended up being the real target, suddenly appearing out of nowhere in a puff of smoke. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished with equal speed, and Umbreon reemerged, breathing heavily. Back on Michael’s side of the field, Gardevoir winced in pain from the poison. Wes had now introduced a time limit into the battle. Before Wes could celebrate, however, Umbreon also staggered.
“You slipped up, Wes,” Michael said, “Gardevoir Traced Espeon’s Synchronize when I first sent her in. Now Umbreon’s poisoned, too.”
Wes simply sighed and raised a Poké Ball. “Yeah, that’s on me. Umbreon, Moonlight.” Umbreon closed his eyes and took in the sunlight, recovering some of his health before returning to his ball. “Feraligatr, your turn!” His fearsome Water-type came out of the ball itching for a fight, fangs and claws bared. Michael did the same for Gardevoir, replacing her with his last team member: Snorlax.
“Snorlax… I don’t think you’ve used that one against me before,” Wes observed.
“I’m trying something different,” Michael said, “Jolteon, use Thunder Wave!” A small arc of lightning shot out at Feraligatr, instantly restricting his movements.
“It’s gonna take more than that to stop him! Feraligatr, use Waterfall!” Fighting through the paralysis, the alligator summoned a large wave, riding it across the field and toward Jolteon.
“Use Thunderbolt!”
“Espeon, Psychic!”
Another round of lightning was fired at the approaching wave, scattering throughout the water and into Feraligatr. The torrent came crashing down on the Electric-type, then dissipated to reveal his target lying on the ground, fainted. As Jolteon was recovering from the attack, a surge of Psychic energy pierced through him, regrettably knocking him out. While Wes swapped out the fallen Feraligatr for Umbreon, Michael was at a loss for words, his mouth agape.
Everything was going according to plan.
“Come back out, Gardevoir,” once she was on the field, Michael didn’t waste any time giving orders. “Use Shadow Ball! Snorlax, Belly Drum.” Gardevoir fired another dark orb. It hurtled toward Espeon, doing significant damage, but not enough to knock him out thanks to the still-active Light Screen. To the side, Snorlax smacked his belly with both hands repeatedly, increasing his attack power exponentially. “Gardevoir, keep firing out those Shadow Balls!”
“Espeon, throw in some Shadow Balls of your own. Umbreon, Feint Attack!”
The two Psychic-types sent out opposing attacks, each sphere colliding with each other before reaching the intending target. Umbreon ran in to take on Gardevoir while she was busy, but Michael had Snorlax intercept with a Body Slam. Umbreon redirected and attacked Snorlax instead, but was ultimately sent flying.
“Snorlax, get in and protect Gardevoir. Gardevoir, Moonblast!”
“Espeon, Psychic on Snorlax. Umbreon, Feint Attack!”
Espeon got to work chipping away at Snorlax’s defenses while Umbreon charged in to try and take another shot at Gardevoir. He managed to jump in for a tackle right as the beam of light went off. When the light faded, both Umbreon and Gardevoir were on the ground, hanging by a thread.
“Gardevoir, now’s our chance!” Michael yelled, “Trick Room!” The Psychic-type channeled her energy one last time, summoning a mystical field of purple squares that overtook the brown stone of the Colosseum. Once her work was done, she collapsed, joined by Umbreon on the other side. Both trainers now only had one Pokémon remaining, and with them, one last hope of victory.
Wes scanned the battlefield, trying to piece together what Michael’s strategy was. “Trick Room. But how does… that…” One glance at Snorlax was all it took to figure it out. “Espeon, Psychic!”
“Snorlax!” Michael pointed a determined finger at Wes’s last remaining Pokémon, “Use Giga Impact!” The lumbering Normal-type moved fast, impossibly fast, running full-tilt toward Espeon in the hopes of finishing the battle in one super-charged attack. His foe sent out a full-power wave of psychic energy in an attempt to end things before the move could land.
The resulting impact shook the arena, sending dust flying and obscuring the results. The audience waited with baited breath as the debris cleared. Both Pokémon were lying still on the ground. Espeon reached out a paw, trying desperately to pull himself back up to his feet, but he just didn’t have the energy. He fell back to the ground, letting out a high-pitched whine.
All eyes turned to Snorlax. It was hard to tell if he had fainted or not, given how Snorlax usually were. “Snorlax, can you hear me, buddy?” No answer. “...Do you want a berry?” Spontaneously, the giant Pokémon sprung to his feet and labored over to his trainer, stopping just short of tackling the boy as he looked on expectantly. Michael stared up at his Pokémon with wonder. Tears began to fill his eyes.
He’d won.
Cheers erupted from both sides of the stands, all the viewers rushing down to the arena in their excitement. Movement in the corner of his eye finally broke him out of his trance.
“Nice job, kid. You’ve really improved,” Wes held out a gloved hand. He didn’t look angry or disappointed. No, the look in his eyes could only be described as pride. “But don’t think this is over. I’ll get my winning streak going again next time.”
Michael wiped his eyes and accepted the handshake. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it!”