The sound of the crowd was like a crashing wave.
Shion stood in the center of the arena, dust and light swirling around him as thousands of voices cried out from the stands. The Alakazam's barriers were fading now, their psychic glow softening as the match officially ended.
And above the thunder of cheers, he could hear them
"LY-CAN-ROC! LY-CAN-ROC!"
"THAT ACCELEROCK DID YOU SEE THAT?!"
"HE DRILLED A RHYPERIOR INTO THE FLOOR!"
"WHO IS THAT KID?!"
Shion blinked in disbelief. The crowd was actually… chanting?
He turned, panting, and looked down at Kiba.
The orange Lycanroc was covered in scuffs and bruises, his sides rising and falling with exhaustion. But he still held his head high. His amber eyes locked with Shion's.
Proud.
Strong.
Shion crouched and ran his hand gently across Kiba's fur. "You were incredible out there," he whispered, trying not to smile too hard.
Kiba gave a soft bark, then slumped onto his haunches.
Shion chuckled and reached for his Poké Ball. "Let's get you healed."
He tapped the capsule, and in a beam of light, Kiba vanished inside.
The ten surviving trainers were escorted through a wide archway at the base of the stadium.
The hall beyond was quieter, cooler a marble corridor with blue banners lining the walls, each bearing the crest of Ravelle's Grand Tournament: a silver lion wreathed in flame. Guards flanked the path, and several clerics stood ready with healing kits and potions.
"Winners of Round One," a steward announced. "You will receive full treatment and rest. Please follow the assistants to your designated recovery suites."
Shion followed the group into the healing wing.
It was a domed chamber filled with curtained booths. Pokémon Center staff, medics in white, and a few Audino moved from bed to bed, checking vitals, applying sprays, and offering calming auras to agitated Pokémon.
Shion found himself seated in a small alcove with a bowl of water, a cloth to clean his face, and a quiet moment to breathe.
It hit him all at once the dust, the adrenaline, the sheer chaos of the past half hour.
He leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.
Bidoof popped his head out of the satchel on his lap and promptly climbed into Shion's arms, holding a half-eaten berry in its chubby paws.
"Well," Bidoof mumbled with his mouth full, "you didn't die."
Shion snorted. "Thanks."
"Still got kicked in the ribs by, like, four monsters, though."
"Okay, thanks."
As Shion cleaned off his face and caught his breath, he let himself glance around the chamber.
The other nine trainers sat or stood nearby, each within their own space.
Some were stoic. A few joked quietly with their medics. One was already fast asleep. Most were tending to their Pokémon or staring at the tournament bracket board, newly posted on the far wall.
Shion's eyes drifted.
And stopped.
There, in a quiet corner where the shadows were longer, sat a tall woman with long, violet hair tied into a ribboned braid. Her posture was casual one leg crossed over the other, a faint smirk on her lips.
She was stroking the head of a Gengar that sat calmly beside her.
That was her Pokémon.
The one that had lurked. Waited. Struck only when needed.
Her eyes flicked up and for a second, Shion thought she looked straight at him.
Just for a moment.
Then her gaze slid past, indifferent.
Shion shivered and looked away.
She's strong. And smart. Gengar didn't waste a single move.
He glanced again. Her expression hadn't changed.
Unbothered. Elegant.
And somehow… off.
There was something about her presence not threatening, exactly, but poised. Measured. Like a blade half-drawn but smiling at you anyway.
"Don't stare," Bidoof murmured, glancing at her while chewing. "That one gives me the heebie-hooties."
"That's not a word."
"She smells like cult."
Shion blinked. "...what?"
"Just a vibe."
He shook his head and looked down at his hands.
They were still trembling slightly.
We made it, he thought. Kiba… you pulled us through.
But now he saw what the real tournament would be like. The trainers here weren't normal. They weren't just adventurers or merchants with a badge. They were warriors. People who had trained their Pokémon for years, across regions. They moved with intent. They spoke in half-commands. They knew how to win.
Shion exhaled and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I need to be ready for tomorrow…"
---
From the arena outside, the crowd roared again.
The next preliminary round had begun.
Shion glanced toward the open window where the sound drifted in. Even now, the stone beneath his feet seemed to vibrate with the noise. A chorus of anticipation and battle.
He could go train. Find a quiet space and run Kiba through drills. Maybe test Raku's form. Or he could watch the matches, learn how others fought.
He hadn't seen Ren yet.
Or Belle.
He was curious how they'd fare.
But more than that, he was starting to feel something new in his chest.
Excitement.
Even after the bruises, the chaos, the danger he wanted more.
This wasn't just a tournament.
It was the proving ground for something greater.
The noise from the arena was thunderous again.
Even from the outer halls of the coliseum, Shion could feel the crowd's energy bleeding through the stone the distant sound of roars, commands, explosions of power, and rising cheers that moved like waves over the stands.
He finished the last sip of the berry tonic a medic had given him and rose to his feet. His limbs were still sore, but his steps felt lighter.
I should watch a few more rounds, he thought. It might help... and honestly, I'm kind of curious who else is fighting.
Bidoof grunted from his satchel. "Just don't trip walking up the stairs. You're dramatic, not graceful."
Shion gave the Pokémon a light tap on the head, and Bidoof promptly curled up with a huff. "I'm serious."
As he climbed the curved stone staircase toward the viewing platforms, he could see more of the city from the open balconies rooftops glittering with festival lanterns, banners flapping in the wind, the golden dome of the Ravios Grand Cathedral gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
By the time Shion reached the upper stands, the arena was already alive again.
The fourth preliminary round had just begun.
And chaos… was in full bloom.
Dozens of Pokémon rampaged across the arena below forty-nine of them all moving, charging, attacking, and leaping in coordinated or desperate movements. The battle was just as wild as Shion's had been. The ground had already cracked under several seismic blows. Fire and lightning twisted across the battlefield like dueling serpents.
And there right in the center a calm figure in a dark-blue coat.
Shion blinked.
"…Ren?"
He leaned forward on the railing, eyes wide.
It was him.
His childhood friend stood tall and composed, arms loosely crossed, not barking frantic orders like many of the other trainers. His gaze was steady measuring. Patient. He hadn't even moved yet.
His Haxorus, on the other hand, had.
The dragon roared and launched forward with terrifying speed, a gleaming blade of Dragon Claw erupting from each arm as it struck down a charging Rhyperior with surgical force.
The giant fell in a heap.
A red flare.
Haxorus spun, tail crashing into a Graveler before it could launch a Rock Blast. Another strike another red flare.
Then a Gardevoir from across the field launched a Psyshock at it, trying to catch it off guard.
Ren raised an eyebrow that was all.
"Haxorus," he said calmly, voice barely audible even in the stands, "Protect."
A translucent shield shimmered into life in front of the dragon just in time to deflect the psychic blast harmlessly. Haxorus didn't even flinch.
He's not panicking, Shion realized. He's not reacting he's controlling the whole flow.
Ren extended a hand. "Iron Tail."
The dragon spun again, its metallic tail glinting like a polished blade and with a flash of movement, it crashed it down on the battlefield, creating a shockwave that sent three lighter Pokémon flying backward.
Red. Red. Red.
Three knockouts in one move.
The crowd roared with approval.
Shion blinked. "He's… incredible."
For a moment, Shion just watched not out of admiration or envy, but awe. Ren hadn't just grown stronger. He had become something else entirely. He was calm in the storm. Every command was low, clear, confident as though this wasn't a life-or-death brawl between the continent's fiercest, but a routine spar in a practice yard.
Shion had battled in terror.
Ren battled in command.
He looked down at his own hands, scarred and still slightly bruised. Kiba had given everything out there and they barely made it through.
And yet…
Shion smiled.
"That's my friend," he said quietly. "That's the Ren I knew."
Below, the battle was starting to narrow.
An Aggron charged toward Haxorus with a massive Head Smash, steam pouring off its metal body.
Ren's hand moved slightly. "Avoid. Dual Chop."
Haxorus sidestepped with shocking grace, spun, and struck the Aggron once then again. The dragon's axes glowed green-blue with sheer energy, cutting deep. Aggron fell with a roar.
Red flare.
Again.
A ripple of chatter moved through the spectators in Shion's row.
"That Haxorus… terrifying."
"Who is that trainer?"
"I heard he's from the Royal Academy."
"No way he's not top rank. He hasn't even broken a sweat!"
Shion leaned on the railing, a breeze brushing his hair. Below, Ren stepped lightly across the fractured arena. Not hurried. Not worried.
He really belongs here, Shion thought. He's meant for this.
He didn't feel small. Not exactly. He felt… inspired.
Kiba, Rune, Raku they'd fought with their hearts. They'd pulled off the impossible.
But Ren? Ren was already walking a few steps ahead.
Shion narrowed his eyes, grinning faintly.
"Guess I'm chasing you again," he whispered.
From somewhere deeper in the coliseum, a great bell rang.
The fourth round had ended.
Ten Pokémon still stood Haxorus among them, untouched.
Ren recalled his partner calmly and turned away from the field.
Shion leaned back, eyes following his silhouette.
For a moment just a blink Ren's head tilted slightly in his direction.
Not quite a look.
Not quite a recognition.
But something stirred.
Shion blinked.
Then Ren walked into the shadows of the tunnel, gone once more.
The crowd began shifting, preparing for the next round.
Shion turned away from the stands, heart steadying.
"Alright," he muttered. "Time to train."
Bidoof peeked up from the satchel. "You gonna try the 'stand there and look cool' approach too?"
Shion raised an eyebrow. "No. I'm gonna train till I pass out, thanks."
"Reasonable. Let's get wrecked."