The road into Veilstone didn't welcome you; it warned you.
Stone walls loomed long before the city itself appeared, black and grey slabs quarried from the surrounding cliffs. They weren't carved to look beautiful, only solid. Every block was stacked like the builders hadn't trusted the world not to test them again.
By the time the merchant's cart rattled across the first cobbles, I understood. This was a city built against the wild. Not with lanterns like Hearthome, not with farms like Solaceon. Veilstone stood like a fortress.
Ponyta's hooves struck sparks on the stone, echoing against the towers that rose higher as we entered. My team's Poké Balls quivered faintly at my belt. Tyrunt restless, Luxio bristling, Grotle steady but alert, Honedge's tassel pressing faint against my wrist. They could feel the city too.
The merchant guided the cart down a long main street that cut straight as a spear through the heart of Veilstone. On either side, stalls crowded against stone storefronts—leatherworkers, spice sellers, smiths with hammers ringing against steel. Shouts carried over the din, bartering loud and sharp. Above it all loomed the fighting ring banners painted on cloth, hanging from stone towers: the symbol of Maylene's Gym.
We pulled up to the supply depot, a squat warehouse with iron-banded doors. The clerk checked the seal on the crates, muttered a count under his breath, and signed the ledger without looking at me. He pushed a purse across the desk.
I caught it. Heavier than any I'd had before. Still not enough for tutors or items that mattered, but more than berries and scraps. I slipped it into my pack.
The merchant tipped his straw hat once, eyes narrowing. "You kept steady. Didn't lose your head in the grass. Not bad for a boy chasing badges." He didn't smile, but the nod he gave was worth more than the coin. Then he clicked his tongue and guided Ponyta back toward the road.
I stood in the street, coins heavy in my pack, the air buzzing around me. And then I heard it: a crowd's roar, sharp and loud, cutting through the city noise.
I followed the sound into the central plaza.
The square was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. A banner stretched wide across the ring:
VEILSTONE JUNIOR TOURNAMENT
For trainers with fewer than four badges.
My pulse kicked.
The ring itself was a circle of packed dirt, stone barriers marking the edge. A crowd of locals and travelers shouted from the stands, voices blending into a storm of noise. Trainers stood in line near the entrance, waiting their turn.
In the arena, a Roselia darted back on slim legs, vines snapping out. Its opponent, a Croagunk, ducked low, fist glowing purple. The frog leapt, poison-tip fist striking true. The crowd roared as Roselia crumpled. The ref's flag cut the air, sharp.
My heart hammered harder with every cheer.
Prize money was scrawled on a chalkboard: not scraps, not coppers. Enough to matter. Enough to sharpen us before Maylene.
Luxio's ball shook against my belt, sparks biting my fingers. Tyrunt rattled hard enough to clink his claws against the glass. Even Grotle shifted faintly. Honedge's tassel pressed, eager, in my shadow.
They wanted this.
I signed my name.
The registrar barely glanced up before shouting it across the crowd. "Next match — Orion, three badges, versus Kellen, two badges!"
The cheer that went up made my throat tighten. Not for me, not yet. But for the fight.
Kellen stood across the ring, grinning wide. His hair stuck out in clumps, his clothes dust-stained, his stance loose and confident. "Hope you're ready to lose your first match," he called, cocky.
I unclipped Luxio's ball. My fingers stung from the static inside. "We'll see."
He tossed his ball high. "Go, Staravia!"
Wings burst open in a flash of light, feathers sharp, eyes narrow. The bird circled high, crying once before diving low, skimming just out of reach.
I opened my hand. "Luxio."
Lightning cracked into flesh. He exploded onto the dirt, mane bristling, sparks crawling across his body. The crowd's cheer swelled, hungry for the clash.
The ref dropped his flag.
Staravia dived first, wings slicing the air.
"Dodge!" I snapped.
Luxio leapt aside, dust kicking. The bird skimmed past, banking sharp.
"Now—Spark!"
Sparks burst full across Luxio's mane. He sprang, claws extended, body a bolt of lightning. He clipped Staravia's wing, static crawling across feathers. The bird shrieked, banking wide.
The crowd roared.
"Don't let him breathe!" Kellen barked.
Staravia spun mid-air, wings glowing white—Wing Attack. It slashed down, cutting across Luxio's shoulder. He snarled, sparks flaring hotter, but his paws dug into the dirt, holding ground.
"Bite!" I shouted.
He lunged, jaws snapping. Teeth clamped down on feathers, dragging the bird low. Staravia thrashed, wings beating frantic. Dust spiraled.
Kellen's grin faltered. "Shake him off!"
The bird screeched, twisting. Luxio's claws dug deeper, sparks snapping louder. His eyes burned wild. He didn't want to let go.
"Luxio—down!" I barked, sharp.
His ears flicked. For a heartbeat, he resisted. Then he slammed the bird into the dirt with a snarl, sparks bursting across its body. Staravia cried once, then stilled, wings twitching weakly.
The ref's flag cut the air. "Winner: Orion and Luxio!"
The roar that followed rattled the stone walls.
Luxio stood over the downed bird, sparks crawling down his mane, chest heaving. His eyes locked on the crowd, on me, on the next fight waiting. Pride burned through him like lightning.
I walked forward, resting my hand against his shoulder. His fur stung, static sharp against my palm, but I didn't pull back. "Good work," I murmured.
He growled low, pleased, and lifted his head higher.
Kellen recalled his Staravia, his grin gone. "Not bad," he muttered, eyes narrowed. "But let's see how you do in the next round."
I didn't answer. My pulse was still racing, the crowd still roaring. Luxio prowled at my side, sparks dimming only slightly. Tyrunt's ball rattled, eager for his turn. Grotle's shifted, patient. Honedge's tassel brushed my wrist, steady and cold.
The announcer's voice rose over the crowd again, calling the next match. My name stayed on the board. One win down. More to come.
The Junior Tournament had only just begun.