For most ordinary spectators, Pokémon battles were nothing more than competitions—thrilling matches to watch, but ultimately entertainment. Everyone knew that real combat wasn't as clean or simple as a League match, but seeing the raw cruelty of battle laid bare before their eyes? That was rare.
And today, at Rainbow University's exhibition match, the citizens finally witnessed it.
Trainer and Pokémon moved in perfect coordination, darting across the battlefield, hunting for footing and for openings in their opponent's defenses. Both Erika and Cynthia had taken light injuries already. Though not crippling—no shattered bones or mangled limbs—the sight of blood trickling down their arms and faces, met with calm focus and unwavering resolve, was enough to remind the crowd of just how perilous a Trainer's life could be.
Each falling petal cut through the air like a knife. Every roar from Garchomp split the earth beneath its claws. Had any ordinary human stepped into this arena without the protection of their Pokémon, they would have perished a hundred times over before the fight even began.
It was as though the Pokémon League itself, in collaboration with Rainbow University, had designed this match with intention: to remind the masses that Trainers were not mere celebrities or entertainers, but warriors—dangerous, brutal, and terrifying in their own right.
Girls in the audience covered their mouths, gasping at the blood-soaked spectacle. Yet beneath human instinctive fear, their cheers only grew louder, thunderous and unrelenting, shaking the very arena.
"Erika!"
"Erika!"
"Erika!"
The crowd roared for their hometown Gym Leader. Celadon City's citizens poured their voices into her, pushing her forward. On the surface, Erika seemed to have the advantage—her relentless offense forcing Cynthia to defend again and again.
But among the experts—among Champions like Logan watching from above—heads shook in quiet disapproval. Erika's furious barrage was only surface-level dominance. Such aggression consumed stamina at a frightening rate. If the fight dragged on even a little, she and her Pokémon would collapse.
Erika's desire to win was burning too hot.
Cynthia, by contrast, remained cold as steel. Every strike she made was merciless, but her control of stamina was flawless. She blocked Erika's waves of attacks with the smallest expenditure of effort.
"Now! Spiritomb, use Hypnosis!"
In a sudden turn, Cynthia's eyes sharpened. From her side of the field, Spiritomb's eerie presence surged—and the hypnotic force wasn't aimed at Erika's Pokémon. It was aimed directly at Erika herself.
Even with a protective aura around her, Erika's vision swam, her thoughts blurred.
Damn!
She snapped herself back almost instantly, but a single moment of daze was all Cynthia needed.
"Dragon Pulse!"
The atmosphere rippled. Garchomp roared, unleashing a devastating surge of energy. Erika had no choice but to throw herself in front of the blast, forcing her Vileplume to shield her. But the force ripped through them both, slamming into Erika's fragile body.
A pained cry escaped her lips as she and Vileplume were driven back across the arena, bodies dragging deep gouges in the earth.
When the light cleared, the ground around her was shattered and cracked. Erika's pale arm, raised defensively, was reddened and twisted unnaturally, as though fractured by nothing more than the vibrating shockwave.
The stadium fell deathly silent. Spectators and even the referee stared in horror. Some parents covered their children's eyes, unprepared for such brutality in what was meant to be an exhibition.
"Hhh…" Erika exhaled through clenched teeth. Her left arm bled freely, the skin ruptured from Garchomp's Dragon Pulse. Yet to her, it was nothing. She had endured worse, even near-death wounds, during her journeys.
Raising her gaze, she locked eyes with Cynthia. The Sinnoh Champion stood tall, her once-soft gray eyes now icy and merciless. In battle, she was an entirely different person—no warmth, no leniency.
From the stands, Yellow trembled. She couldn't understand. Why were Erika and Cynthia—two women so gentle and kind—now clashing with such cruelty? Was this… the true face of a Pokémon battle?
Even if she hated the blood, even if she feared the cruelty, Yellow clenched her fists. If that's what real battles are, then I'll endure it too… I won't hold my brother back.
Nearby, the young Planteena paled, trembling as though drained of strength. She had read about the brutality of real battles, but seeing it unfold before her—blood staining the stage—shook her heart to its core.
"Erika, you're too impatient. This isn't like you at all," Cynthia said, striding forward with long, commanding steps. Her voice was steady, victorious. For the first time in ages, she felt a rush of genuine satisfaction. Her lips curled into a smile.
Erika let out a bitter laugh. She was too hasty. She wanted too badly to prove she was stronger than Cynthia, to defeat her in the short ten-minute span. From the start, she'd let emotion overtake her, driving her into reckless attacks. It wasn't her style. She excelled at subtlety, at graceful strategies, not blunt force. But her jealousy, her pride as a woman standing against Cynthia—it had consumed her elegance.
This was her proposal. Her chosen opponent. And yet, it felt like she'd spun her own web and fallen into it. But—
"Cynthia, did you think it was over already?"
Erika lifted her face, her lips curving into a smile that sent shivers through the air.
"Yes, I rushed. But you, Cynthia… you've grown arrogant."
"What?!"
Cynthia's heart jolted. Her eyes flicked around—and she realized what she had missed. The petals Erika's Pokémon had scattered across the battlefield earlier… they were rising, swirling without wind.
Though Erika had been reckless, her instincts hadn't faded. Her artistry in battle remained. And when she saw Cynthia relax, she knew her chance had come.
The petals danced like a storm of blades, converging on Cynthia from all sides.
"Ughh—!"
Cynthia grunted, throwing an arm up to shield her face. The storm shredded her clothing, leaving her body crisscrossed with countless cuts. Blood seeped from the shallow wounds, staining her Champion's attire red.
In an instant, both women stood battered. Erika, her arm nearly broken from recklessness. Cynthia, slashed and bloodied from arrogance. Their gazes locked, both burning with fury.
"Women… terrifying," Alder muttered from the stands, his snack forgotten, his throat dry.
Then, suddenly, fire blazed down from above. A towering wall of flames split the battlefield, forcing them apart.
Both women froze, their next strikes halted.
On the platform stood a Flareon, flames licking across its body, and beside it, a man with his hand raised.
"Enough!" Logan's voice thundered. "Cynthia. Erika. The battle ends here."
The Champion of Kanto had stepped in at last.
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