The outcome of the battle had long since been decided.
With overwhelming dominance and flawless tempo control, Gary defeated Darach in a decisive three-to-zero sweep.
The Sandstorm gradually weakened, the violent winds settling into a gentle drift before fading entirely. Grains of sand fell softly back to the polished battlefield, leaving faint golden traces across the stone.
At the center of it all stood Tyranitar.
Unshaken.
Unbowed.
Undefeated.
"Tyraaaaan!"
Its deep roar resonated through the garden, not wild or boastful—but heavy with restrained pride. It did not celebrate excessively. It simply acknowledged victory.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
Caitlin applauded gracefully from beneath the pavilion, her crimson eyes gleaming with genuine admiration rather than polite courtesy.
"Truly spectacular," she said with a faint smile. "As expected of a Trainer capable of defeating Brandon."
"Miss Caitlin, you flatter me," Gary replied calmly as Tyranitar returned to his side. "Darach is far from weak. I was simply stronger."
Caitlin paused for half a heartbeat.
That wasn't humility.
It wasn't arrogance either.
It was a straightforward statement of fact.
For a brief moment, she didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
Youth really did possess a certain bold brilliance—unapologetic and clear.
Cynthia, however, studied Gary in silence.
She had battled countless elite trainers across regions. She understood what arrogance looked like.
This wasn't that.
This was confidence born from layered preparation, accumulated victories, and measured self-awareness.
There was no reckless pride in his eyes.
Only assessment.
"Have you considered entering the World Coronation Series?" Caitlin asked curiously, tilting her head slightly. "There are many extraordinary Trainers competing there. Champions. Monarchs. Ranked masters from multiple regions."
Cynthia nodded faintly.
"With your current level, the World Coronation Series would suit you well. Have you thought about registering next year?"
The intensity Gary displayed during this match surpassed the standard expected at most regional Leagues. His pace, his tactical layering, his command sequencing—
Those were traits more commonly seen among globally ranked competitors.
The World Coronation Series stage—where Trainers fought for international ranking positions—felt more fitting for him than a conventional regional conference.
Gary gave a small shake of his head.
"I'll consider it," he said evenly. "But not yet. Perhaps in two years."
In truth, he could enter now.
His team had already reached a level where they could compete respectably.
But competing and winning were not the same.
The Masters Eight were not stepping stones.
They were apex predators.
Rushing onto that stage without certainty would waste momentum.
Gary preferred entering when he could claim the summit.
Darach stepped forward at that moment, his posture composed despite the loss. From within his tailored inner coat pocket, he retrieved a golden emblem shaped with elegant precision.
"This is your reward—the Castle Symbol."
He extended it with both hands, offering it with dignity befitting both steward and warrior.
"Thank you."
Gary accepted it calmly, examining the polished surface briefly before storing it away.
[Ding! Mission Complete: Obtained Castle Symbol.]
[Rewards distributed to System Storage Space.]
Gary did not linger over the notification.
Symbols were milestones—not trophies to admire endlessly.
"Miss Caitlin, Miss Cynthia, Mr. Darach—if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
"So soon?" Caitlin leaned back slightly, resting her chin against her fingers. "You're not staying to talk?"
Gary blinked once.
"About what?"
Caitlin chuckled softly.
"About Team Galactic," she replied. "Cynthia has been troubled by them lately."
Cynthia's expression shifted subtly.
She hadn't expected Caitlin to raise the topic so directly—but she did not object.
In truth—
She had reached an impasse.
"You've encountered Team Galactic before," Cynthia said seriously, stepping forward slightly. "What do you think?"
Gary's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
"The Sinnoh League still hasn't located them?" he asked.
Cynthia's eyes darkened.
"No. Since they stole the Adamant Orb and Lustrous Orb, they've vanished. We located their former headquarters in Veilstone City—but it was already abandoned."
No residual equipment.
No data traces.
No meaningful clues.
Team Galactic had dissolved like mist under sunlight.
Gary folded his arms thoughtfully.
"Searching blindly is inefficient," he said calmly. "Instead of chasing shadows, focus on their objective."
Cynthia's brows drew together slightly.
"Their objective?"
"The Adamant Orb and Lustrous Orb are directly connected to Dialga and Palkia," Gary continued steadily. "If their goal involves manipulating space and time, then Mt. Coronet is the most logical location."
The name lingered in the air.
Mt. Coronet.
The mountain that split Sinnoh in two.
Ancient.
Sacred.
Filled with spatial distortions and mythological significance.
Cynthia's expression grew more serious.
She had thought of it, of course.
But she had not committed to it as the central axis.
"Deploy forces there," Gary continued. "Increase surveillance discreetly. If Team Galactic intends to act, Mt. Coronet is the most probable stage."
Caitlin tapped her teacup thoughtfully.
"But if we station forces openly," she countered, "wouldn't that alert them? What if they delay their plans?"
"That's acceptable," Gary replied evenly. "Defense is only the first layer."
He looked directly at Cynthia.
"Secure the objective first. If their target becomes inaccessible, their operational space shrinks. Then you narrow your search radius."
Cynthia absorbed the logic.
It wasn't about pursuit.
It was about containment.
Block the outcome.
Force the opponent into visible movement.
Gary's voice remained steady.
"And don't focus only on Mt. Coronet. Lake Verity. Lake Valor. Lake Acuity."
Cynthia stiffened slightly.
"The three lakes?"
"Yes," Gary said. "Uxie. Mesprit. Azelf. They are deeply tied to Sinnoh's ancient mythology. If Team Galactic seeks to control space and time, they may attempt to capture the Lake Guardians first."
The atmosphere grew heavier.
Cynthia's thoughts moved rapidly.
If the Lake Guardians were involved—
The Red Chain.
The ritual.
Her mind aligned pieces that had remained scattered.
"My grandmother is already stationed near Lake Acuity," she said quickly. "I can arrange immediate reinforcements for Lake Verity and Lake Valor."
Caitlin looked impressed.
"You've thought this through thoroughly."
Gary gave a faint shrug.
"It's simple logical deduction."
He did not mention how dangerously close Team Galactic already was to advancing their plan.
He did not need to.
Sometimes, a subtle redirection was sufficient.
Cynthia stepped closer.
"Thank you, Gary," she said sincerely. "Your perspective is invaluable."
There was no pride in her voice now.
Only gratitude.
For the first time in weeks, the fog clouding her strategy had begun to thin.
Gary inclined his head slightly.
"I've said what I can. The rest depends on you."
He turned to leave.
"Hey!" Caitlin called out suddenly, half-amused and half-exasperated. "You really are too straightforward. Two beautiful women invite you to stay and talk, and you just walk away?"
Gary paused.
He turned back slowly.
Caitlin tilted her head playfully.
"You don't prefer men, do you?" she teased lightly.
Gary regarded her calmly.
"Miss Caitlin, how old are you?"
Caitlin blinked.
"I… I'm twenty-seven. Why?"
"I'm thirteen," Gary replied evenly. "Fourteen in a few months."
Silence descended like a dropped curtain.
Caitlin froze.
Only now did the age gap land with full weight.
Cynthia lifted her hand to her lips, hiding a faint smile.
"When I'm eighteen," Gary continued without changing tone, "you'll both be well into your thirties. What exactly do you think could happen?"
Caitlin's face flushed instantly.
"You—are you calling me old?!"
Her earlier composure shattered in a heartbeat.
"Miss, please calm yourself," Darach interjected smoothly, stepping forward with professional restraint. "Your heart rate is increasing."