Thick smoke still curled in lazy ribbons across the ruined gym, the golden spores drifting through it like the last embers of a dying fire. The air was heavy with heat, with dust, with the faint, sweet‑bitter tang of Stun Spore that clung to every breath and web.
In the centre of the battlefield, the sagging web swayed gently, its captives unmoving. Geodude and Butterfree lay tangled together, their bodies slack, the last faint crackles of static fading from the silk.
Twin beams of red light cut through the haze, pulling them back into the safety of their Poké Balls. The web sagged further without their weight, one final strand snapping with a soft twang.
Neither trainer spoke.
Ash's gaze lingered on the Poké Ball in his hand, his thumb brushing over the smooth surface. Gratitude and relief softened his expression.
"Thanks, Butterfree," he murmured, voice low enough that it was meant for the Pokémon alone. He pressed the button, shrinking the ball, and clipped it back onto his belt with deliberate care.
From the sidelines, Pikachu's ears perked, a bright "Pika!" breaking the silence in a cheer for his teammate. Flint's eyes narrowed slightly, one brow lifting as he studied Ash — and the memory of Butterfree's earlier bloated form. He'd already pieced it together.
Brock had too.
But where Flint's reaction was quiet understanding, Brock's was unreadable. His gaze was steady, his jaw set, and when he finally spoke, his voice was measured, almost flat.
"That was reckless."
Ash blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"The trick you used with Butterfree."
Ash's tone sharpened, defensive. "You mean my plan where Butterfree drank extra water before the match to make his webs stick harder? What about it was reckless? It worked in stopping your Geodude, didn't it?"
Brock's eyes narrowed fractionally as he looked at the spore-covered webs still clinging to the ceiling, walls, and floor, sagging in sheets, with dust and spores tangled in the threads. "So, you actually did that," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. Then, louder, with the authority of a Gym Leader addressing a challenger: "Yes. I'll admit — it was a clever trick."
Ash's lips curled into a faint, smug smile at the acknowledgement.
"…But it was reckless," Brock continued, his tone hardening. "Look at the field. You had Butterfree push himself past his limits to create this, putting him in unnecessary danger. That kind of strain could have cost you the match — or worse."
The words hung in the smoky air, heavier than the dust.
Ash bristled. "What do you mean? It all worked out in the end, didn't it?"
Being an aspiring Pokémon Breeder and an older sibling of a large family, Brock took the tone he used when addressing his siblings after they'd done something dangerous — but kept the edge of a Gym Leader speaking to a rookie trainer. His eyes didn't waver.
"You didn't win. You tied. That isn't a clean victory, which you might have had if you hadn't loaded your Butterfree with more water than it could comfortably carry. That slowed it down at the start, making it an easier target. If Geodude had landed a clean hit in those first exchanges, the battle would've been over before your plan even began."
Ash's jaw tightened. "But he didn't. It prevented Geodude from using the entire gym to attack from anywhere. We adapted to whatever was thrown at us and won."
"That's not the point," Brock said, the firmness in his tone now unmistakable. "A Gym battle isn't just about winning. It's about how you win — and whether your Pokémon can walk away from it ready for the next fight. You gambled with Butterfree's stamina and mobility for a trick that could've backfired in seconds. That's not a strategy, Ash. That's a plan that depended heavily on arbitrary luck."
The smoke curled between them, the golden motes of Stun Spore still drifting in the air, catching the light like tiny, accusing sparks. Flint's gaze flicked from one to the other, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp — weighing the words, the tension, the stubbornness in Ash's stance.
Pikachu shifted, ears twitching, sensing the change in tone.
Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again, his fingers brushing the Poké Balls at his belt — lingering a moment longer on Butterfree's. The heat of the battle was gone, but the weight of Brock's words lingered, pressing in heavier than the dust‑laden air.
From the referee's spot, Flint's eyes lingered on the battlefield hazard, then on Brock. The faintest ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth — but he said nothing.
Brock didn't look away. "You're responsible for your Pokémon's well‑being, Ash. Every choice you make in battle has a cost. Sometimes that cost is worth it. Sometimes it isn't. You need to know the difference before you push them past their limit."
Ash's shoulders stiffened. "I trust my Pokémon. Butterfree trusted me. That's why it worked."
"That trust is exactly why you have to be careful," Brock said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "They'll follow you into anything — even if it hurts them. Especially if it hurts them."
Ash's mouth opened again, but the words caught somewhere between pride and doubt. He glanced down at the Poké Ball on his belt.
Flint finally stepped forward, breaking the standoff with a low, even tone. "You've got heart, kid. And guts. But Brock's right — heart and guts will only take you so far. The rest is knowing when to push… and when to pull back."
Pikachu's tail flicked, the little Pokémon's gaze shifting between the two humans, ears still twitching at the undercurrent in their voices.
Ash exhaled slowly, the fight draining from his posture. "I'll… think about it," he said at last, though whether it was a concession or just a way to end the conversation was hard to tell.
Brock gave a single, short nod — not of victory, not of approval, but of acknowledgement. "Good. That's all I ask."
Flint spoke after a few seconds. "Now that's settled for now, we should finish this match, shouldn't we?"
Brock grunted his acceptance.
Ash turned to Flint, then glanced at the sticky strands still hanging between them. "Can you toss Pikachu to me? You know… because of this." He gestured at the webbing.
Flint followed his gaze, saw the problem, and scooped Pikachu up. With an easy motion, he lobbed the little Pokémon toward Ash.
Ash caught Pikachu against his chest. The little mouse's sparks tickled against his skin, a heartbeat of warmth in the heavy air.
Ash looked down at his partner. "You ready?"
Pikachu nodded, cheeks sparking faintly.
Ash met Brock's eyes across the ruined web-strewn battlefield.
"We're ready."
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"Trainers, send out your last Pokémon!"
Brock took out a Poké Ball and was ready to throw it when he saw that his opponent had not brought out a Poké Ball of his own. "Where's your..."
Ash pointed at his Pikachu, who puffed his chest out.
Looking at disbelief, he said, "You would not win with your Pikachu."
Ash pointed at Pikachu, who puffed out his chest. "Eevee. Butterfree." His voice carried quiet conviction — this wasn't boasting, it was trust.
That shut up, Brock. They had fought far better than he had expected of them as well, for their matchups. He spoke.
"You have faced and overcome the devastation and unpredictability of the mountains," Brock declared, his voice echoing in the smoke-choked gym. "But now… can you break the mountain itself? I, Brock, Pewter's Gym Leader, will show you my true grit, my rock-hard defence, my determination!" He hurled the Poké Ball forward. "GO ONIX!"
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The Poké Ball burst open with a blinding flash of light.
For a heartbeat, the smoke swallowed everything. Then the ground began to rumble. Dust sifted loose from the fractured ceiling as the silhouette of something enormous uncoiled upward from the light.
A jagged boulder broke through the haze, then another, and another — each segment of Onix's body slamming against the battlefield floor with the sound of falling rock. Every impact made the floor-shrouding webs shudder and snap. Strands stretched taut, quivering like ropes under strain, and some tore apart completely with sharp cracks — but whole sheets still clung stubbornly, now stuck against the stone serpent's ridged body.
Golden spores drifted down and caught on the tangled webs clinging to Onix's lower coils, glittering faintly as its head finally pierced the haze. Its eyes gleamed like molten iron, narrow and sharp, fixing immediately on Pikachu.
Onix let out a roar — a grinding, metallic bellow like stone shearing against stone. The sound rattled the ruined gym and tore through the heavy air. The sticky jungle swayed violently in response, ceiling strands snapping loose from the stone above, but the battlefield remained a treacherous snare waiting to punish the wrong move.
The PokéDex announced. "Onix, the Rock Snake Pokémon. A Rock/Ground dual-type Pokémon. As it grows, it becomes more rounded and smoother, eventually becoming similar to black diamonds. Inside its brain is a magnet that serves as an internal compass, guiding Onix wherever they need to go and preventing them from getting lost while digging. Onix tunnels under the ground at over 50 miles (80 kilometres) per hour, which causes tremors and a terrifying roar that echoes a long way. Hard objects encountered while tunnelling are absorbed into its body, which makes it very sturdy. It also consumes the boulders for food. The massive, winding tunnels it leaves behind are used as homes by Diglett. Onix is capable of rotating its head or any part of its body in a full 360 degrees. It is a very aggressive Pokémon that will constantly attack humans and other Pokémon when in pain. It can be found in mountains and caves."
Ash's breath caught in his chest. He'd seen big Pokémon before — but nothing like this. Onix wasn't just a Pokémon. Standing in the smoke, dust, and web-choked battlefield, it was the mountain Brock had promised.
The web-snared floor clung stubbornly to Onix's coils. Each shift of its massive body tore strands loose with sharp snaps, but enough remained to make every step a trap — one false move and even the mountain could stumble.
Pikachu crouched low on Ash's shoulder, cheeks sparking with a sharp crackle that cut through the haze. His ears flattened, his tail flicking, eyes locked on the towering stone serpent.
Ash's knees wanted to lock, but Pikachu's steady crackle of sparks on his shoulder reminded him he wasn't alone. He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "We're not backing down, Pikachu."
"Begin!"
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"Tackle!"
The word cracked through the haze like a whip.
Onix's lunge was a grinding avalanche of stone, its coils surging forward with the momentum of a landslide. The web‑snared floor resisted, sticky strands stretching taut before snapping in sharp, whip‑like cracks.
But the moment its rough, segmented hide scraped through the silk, the trap bared its teeth. Golden dust burst free in shimmering clouds, shaken loose from every coated thread. The spores swirled up in lazy spirals, catching the fractured light that filtered through the haze, before clinging stubbornly to the jagged ridges of Onix's body.
The giant serpent ploughed on, but each movement dragged more webbing with it — long, glistening ropes that wrapped around its coils and joints. The silk stuck fast in the crevices between boulders, refusing to let go, and with every twist of its body, more spores puffed into the air.
A faint, almost imperceptible hitch crept into Onix's motion. The paralytic dust was working its way in — not enough to stop the mountain, but enough to make its turns a fraction slower, its coils a shade less fluid.
From the floor, the sound was a strange duet: the deep, resonant grind of stone on stone, and the brittle, staccato snaps of webbing giving way. Above it all, the golden haze thickened, turning the battlefield into a shifting, glittering fog where even the mountain's outline seemed to waver.
"Charge Run!"
Pikachu hit the webbed, spore‑coated floor running, sparks crackling over his fur in sharp, staccato bursts. The sticky strands that clung to every other surface in the gym seemed to recoil from him, twitching and curling away as if repelled by an unseen force. The excess charge humming through his body turned the golden dust into harmless motes, the Stun Spore sliding off in faint, shimmering arcs that trailed behind him like a comet's tail.
The spores couldn't paralyse electric-types, and Pikachu was making that immunity work for him. He kept Charge humming at a low, steady output — not enough to store power for a full strike, just enough to match the voltage of a Thunder Wave. The residual discharge bled into the silk beneath his paws, creating a thin, insulating layer that let him skim across the floor with barely a whisper of drag, his movements fluid and unbroken.
Each pawstep sent a ripple of static racing through the webbing, shaking loose more spores in glittering bursts. They drifted harmlessly past Pikachu, but clung greedily to the jagged ridges of Onix's coils. The giant serpent's every shift and twist only pulled more of the sticky silk tight around its body, the paralytic dust working deeper into the cracks between its stone plates.
Onix's head tracked Pikachu's darting form, molten‑iron eyes narrowing. It lunged, jaws snapping shut with a thunderous crack where Pikachu had been a heartbeat earlier, the impact sending a shockwave through the floor. Webbing shuddered and snapped in sharp twangs, and another golden cloud billowed upward — straight into Onix's lowered face.
Pikachu didn't slow. He wove between sagging curtains of silk, tail flicking for balance, sparks dancing brighter with each bound. The air around him prickled with ozone, the scent sharp and clean against the dust‑and‑spore‑choked haze. Every movement was a taunt, every sidestep another chance for the mountain to stumble.
Ash's voice rang out over the grinding roar of stone on stone. "Keep it moving, buddy! Make him chase you!"
And Pikachu did — a streak of gold threading through the ruin, turning the battlefield itself into a weapon while Ash tried to run away from Onix's attack faster.
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This is going nowhere at this rate, and Onix will eventually tire out. Brock thought while glaring at the webs stuck to Onix that were starting to get bigger with time, and the Pikachu that was leading Onix to them. The small sparks on Onix meant that Paralysis was setting in. He had to end this fast.
Looking at the field, Brock grinned as he saw that some parts of the field had their webbing removed.
"Onix, Smack Down!"
Onix's head snapped toward the cleared patches of floor, molten eyes flashing. With a grinding roar, it reared back, coils bunching like a spring.
The massive tail whipped upward, stone segments blurring together into a single, brutal arc. The air cracked as the tip came down, smashing into one of the bare patches with the force of a falling boulder. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the gym floor, dust and loose debris exploding outward in a gritty wave.
Chunks of shattered stone — each the size of a fist — tore free from the impact site and hurtled toward Pikachu in a deadly scatter. The webs between them fluttered and snapped under the sudden gust, spores bursting into the air in chaotic swirls.
"Pikachu, Quick Attack to dodge!" Ash's voice was sharp, urgent as he himself barely dodged the onslaught, being slower than usual due to the webbing. His speed increased as more of the Stun Spore adhered to the soles of his shoes, making it easier for him to run and not get stuck in the web.
Pikachu darted sideways, paws barely touching the ground, weaving between the incoming rocks. One chunk grazed his tail, spinning him mid‑stride, but he landed clean, sparks flaring brighter in reflex.
Onix's tail was already rising again, aiming for another cleared patch — each strike threatening to collapse the web‑snared battlefield into open ground where Pikachu's advantage would vanish.
Brock's eyes narrowed. "Break the traps, Onix! Don't let him run you in circles!"
Ash's mind raced. If Onix cleared too much of the webbing, the spores would stop building up — and the mountain would be free to move at full speed.
"Buddy, we've got to stop that tail!" he called, already thinking three moves ahead. "Quick Attack!"
Pikachu dashed across the exposed and rugged surface to get to Onix. He jumped over the rocks and barely dodged out of the way of the last remaining falling rocks and reached Onix. Just as Onix was about to bring down his tail, Brock smirked and ordered only one word.
"Bind!"
Onix's tail froze mid‑arc, the massive coils beneath it suddenly surging like a living landslide. Segments twisted and looped with startling speed for something so huge, the grinding roar of stone on stone filling the gym.
Pikachu's eyes widened — the tail wasn't coming down. It was coming around.
The coils slammed together in a tightening spiral, the gaps between boulders closing like the jaws of a trap. Dust and spores billowed from the sudden movement, the golden haze swirling into choking eddies around them.
"Pikachu, jump!" Ash shouted, but the command came a heartbeat too late.
The Rock Snake's body looped over itself, cutting off every escape route. Pikachu darted left, then right, but another wall of stone blocked out each path. The grinding sound deepened into a low, crushing groan as the coils began to constrict.
Ash's pulse spiked. He could see the webbing still clinging to Onix's body stretching and snapping under the strain, spores bursting in glittering clouds — but Pikachu was trapped inside that tightening ring.
Brock's voice was calm, almost cold. "Don't let him go."
The pressure built, the floor trembling under the force. Pikachu's sparks flared wildly, electricity crackling against the stone walls closing in. The air inside the coil was thick with dust, spores, and the sharp tang of ozone.
Ash clenched his fists. "Pikachu!"
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The air was thick with dust and gold — every breath tasted faintly bitter; every blink left the world smeared in haze. Pikachu's paws barely touched the ground as he darted between the jagged stones, the hum of Charge still thrumming through his fur. The webs underfoot shivered with each step, sending little bursts of spores swirling up around him, harmless against his skin but clinging to the great stone coils behind.
He could hear him — the grinding roar of rock on rock, the deep tremor in the floor that told him the mountain was moving. Always moving. He kept my eyes on the gaps, the bare patches where the silk was gone, weaving his path to stay just ahead of that massive tail.
Then the sound changed. Not the heavy whump of a tail strike, but a sharper, coiling scrape, like boulders twisting against each other. His ears flicked back. The ground's vibration shifted — not chasing him forward but curling in from the sides.
Pikachu skidded, sparks flaring, and saw the walls of stone rising on either side. No tail coming down. No open lane ahead. Just the mountain folding in on itself, the gaps closing, the light narrowing.
His muscles bunched. He could still make it out — maybe. But the circle was shrinking fast, and the air inside was already thick with dust, spores, and the sharp bite of Pikachu's own ozone.
Suddenly...
---------------------------------------------
Onix's massive body jerked, segments spasming in uneven ripples. Sparks danced along the ridges of its stone plates, snapping and popping in bright arcs that lit the golden haze. The paralytic spores clinging to its body flared under the static, puffing into the air in glittering bursts with each twitch.
Brock's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading. Ash's eyes widened, and a smile bloomed on his face. Flint looked on impassively with a barely perceptible smirk on his face. All of them realised the same thing at the same time.
Onix had been paralysed by Butterfree's Stun Spore that clung to Onix by the web.
Ash capitalised on the unexpected opening. "Pikachu, climb!"
Still using Charge, Pikachu climbed onto Onix's body and raced up the body to get to the head segment. Pikachu's paws pounded against the uneven ridges of stone, each leap sending a faint jolt of static into the rock beneath him. The golden haze swirled past in ragged bursts as he climbed, the world narrowing to the next segment, the next foothold, the next breath.
Onix's body shuddered under him, the paralysis making its movements jerky and uneven. A coil twitched violently to the side, nearly throwing Pikachu off, but he dug his claws into the rough surface and kept going, sparks snapping from his cheeks in defiance.
The head segment loomed above — massive, angular, and crowned with the jagged horn that jutted forward like a spear. Pikachu's eyes locked on it.
"Iron Tail the horn!" Ash's voice cut through the haze, sharp and certain.
Pikachu's tail flared white‑hot with steel energy, the glow so bright it cut through the dust and spores. He launched himself upward, twisting in mid‑air, the charged tail arcing toward its target.
Brock's voice cracked with urgency. "Onix, shake him off!"
The Rock Snake tried — its head jerking, its coils writhing — but the paralysis slowed the motion just enough. Pikachu's tail came down in a clean, brutal strike.
The impact rang out like a hammer on an anvil, a sharp metallic clang that echoed through the ruined gym. The horn splintered at the tip, shards of stone scattering into the haze. Onix's roar was a deep, pained bellow that rattled the floor, the sound rolling through the golden fog like distant thunder.
Pikachu landed lightly on the head segment, tail still glowing faintly, sparks dancing along his fur. Below, Onix's massive frame sagged, the paralysis and the blow combining to slow the mountain's movements to a crawl.
Ash's eyes blazed. "Let's finish this!"
Onix's eyes snapped open and roared while lifting his head. Pikachu barely held on before Onix rotated its head segment and sent him flying off its head towards one of the gym's walls.
"Yeah, let's finish this!" Brock said to Ash's surprised and horrified face. "Onix, Dragon Breath!"
Onix took in a deep breath and released flames of ethereal colour towards the mid-air Pikachu. The blast of Dragon Breath tore through the haze — a stream of shimmering, otherworldly fire that should have struck Pikachu mid‑air. But Onix's damaged horn and spinning head threw its aim wide.
The flames slammed into the wall behind Pikachu. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the spore‑coated webbing ignited with a muffled whump, the fire racing outward in a hungry flash.
Golden motes became sparks, sparks became fire, and in seconds the blaze leapt from wall to wall, licking up the ceiling and racing along the floor's remaining silk. The heat hit like a physical blow, washing over the battlefield in a wave that made the air shimmer.
The explosion came next — a deafening, concussive BOOM that turned the world white. Shards of stone and burning silk whirled through the air. The ceiling groaned, cracks spider‑webbing outward before chunks of rock began to fall.
Ash threw an arm over his eyes, vision seared by the flash. Brock staggered back, shielding his face. Flint didn't move, but his gaze tracked the collapsing ceiling with sharp precision.
Above the roar of fire and falling stone came the grinding, splintering sound of the floor giving way — weakened by Geodude's tunnelling and Rhyhorn's earlier rampage. The ground buckled, then dropped, sending dust and debris billowing upward as the battlefield began to collapse beneath them.
------------------------------------------
The blast wave hadn't even finished echoing when the gym began to come apart.
A deep, groaning crack split the air, followed by the sharp snap of stone giving way. Chunks of ceiling — some no bigger than pebbles, others the size of boulders — broke free and plummeted, smashing into the floor with bone‑shaking force.
Ash threw himself sideways, shielding Pikachu with his arms as a slab of rock shattered where they'd been standing a heartbeat earlier. The heat from the burning webs rolled over them in suffocating waves, the air thick with the acrid tang of scorched spores.
Onix reared back with a roar, coils thrashing in panic as flaming silk clung stubbornly to its body. Each movement sent more debris raining down, and the floor beneath it groaned under the strain.
Brock was already moving, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Onix, hold still! You'll bring the whole place down!" But the Rock Snake's disorientation and the creeping paralysis made its movements jerky, unpredictable — a danger to everyone still inside.
Flint staggered as the blast wave slammed into him, the heat searing across his face and the grit of pulverised stone stinging his eyes. For a heartbeat, the collapsing gym was just noise and fire — and then his gaze locked on the widening cracks racing across the floor he'd once walked as its leader.
His jaw tightened. This was his gym once. Every stone, every beam, every mark on the walls was familiar — and now it was tearing itself apart in front of him.
"The floor's going!" he barked, voice rough from the smoke. He shoved a half‑fallen beam aside with his shoulder, eyes darting between the fighters and the buckling ground. "Move! Now!"
The ground lurched violently, a deep rumble rising from below as the weakened foundation began to give way. Cracks raced across the floor like lightning, splitting the battlefield into jagged islands of stone.
Ash staggered toward the nearest stable patch, Pikachu clinging to his shoulder, sparks still flickering along his fur. Behind them, a section of the floor caved in entirely, swallowing a tangle of burning web and shattered rock into the darkness below.
The heat, the roar of falling stone, the blinding flashes of fire — it was all one chaotic blur. And somewhere in that chaos, the battle wasn't over yet.
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The rumble faded into a tense, unnatural stillness, broken only by the crackle of fire and the slow, echoing drip of water from above. For a long moment, no one moved — the air was too thick with dust, smoke, and the acrid tang of scorched spores. Then, one by one, shapes began to stir amid the jagged mounds of fallen stone.
The battlefield was unrecognisable. Chunks of ceiling lay scattered like broken teeth, their edges glowing faintly where the ethereal bluish‑green flames licked at the webbing still clinging to them. The firelight painted the scene in ghostly hues, shadows stretching and twisting across the wreckage.
Ash pushed himself upright with a grunt, breath ragged. His jacket was scorched along one sleeve, and a thin line of blood traced a path down his cheek from a fresh gash, catching the eerie light. He swiped at it with the back of his hand, smearing it across his skin without noticing. Pikachu clung to his shoulder, sides heaving, fur singed in places but eyes still sharp and defiant.
Brock rose more slowly, brushing dust and fragments of stone from his vest. His face was streaked with soot, and a shallow cut ran along his temple. His gaze flicked to Onix — and his jaw tightened.
The Rock Snake was still upright, but its massive coils were draped in tattered nets of webbing, each strand dusted with the golden remnants of Butterfree's Stun Spore. Now, those same strands were alight. The bluish‑green flames crawled along the silk, flaring whenever Onix moved, the heat searing into the cracks between its stone plates. The smell of scorched silk and heated rock hung heavy in the air.
Onix's roars had changed — no longer the pure, defiant bellow of a mountain, but edged with pain. Each twitch of its body shook loose more burning strands, but others clung stubbornly, feeding the fire and releasing faint bursts of spores that shimmered briefly before burning away. The paralysis was still there, creeping through its massive frame, but now the flames were chipping away at its strength with every passing second.
Flint straightened with a wince, one hand braced against a cracked support pillar. His coat was torn at the shoulder, the fabric blackened where the flames had grazed it. For a moment, his gaze swept the ruined gym — the shattered lights overhead, the collapsed sections of wall, the once‑smooth battlefield now a jagged ruin — and something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
The overhead lights were dead, their glass shattered, leaving the gym in a dim, shifting half‑light. The only illumination came from the strange flames, their glow reflected in the puddles forming on the fractured floor. From above, the destroyed sprinkler system dripped steadily, each drop hissing as it struck the burning silk, sending up little curls of steam.
The air was heavy with heat and the scent of wet ash. Every breath carried the metallic tang of blood and the bitter residue of Stun Spore. The silence between the drips and crackles was taut — the kind that comes when everyone knows the fight isn't truly over, only balanced on the knife‑edge of its final act.
Normal people would have started to evacuate by now if they were in this scenario. So, what do five males, three humans, two Pokémon, filled with adrenaline, do in this scenario?
The air seemed to snap back into motion all at once.
Ash's shout cut through the haze. "Pikachu!"
"Pika!" came the answering cry, sharp and fierce.
Brock's voice followed, deep and commanding. "Onix!"
The Rock Snake's roar rolled through the ruined gym, vibrating in the cracked stone underfoot.
"Quick Attack!"
"Tackle!"
They moved at the same instant — a streak of gold and a wall of stone converging in the firelit gloom. The impact was a thunderclap of flesh and rock, the shockwave rattling loose pebbles from the fractured ceiling.
For a heartbeat, they were locked together — Pikachu's body straining against the unstoppable mass, Onix's coils braced like a fortress. Then the mountain shifted its weight, and the smaller body was flung upward as if launched from a catapult.
"Smack Down!"
Onix raised its head and tail before slamming the tail down on the floor and sending a rock covered with the burning web at Pikachu.
Pikachu's world spun — firelight and shadow, stone and smoke — before the ceiling rushed up to meet him. He twisted mid‑air, sparks flaring instinctively, but the momentum was brutal. His paws scraped the cracked stone overhead, sending a spray of dust and grit raining down.
"Double Kick to launch yourself!"
Pikachu's ears twitched at Ash's command, muscles coiling even as gravity began to drag him back down. His hind legs snapped out in a blur — one kick against the fractured ceiling to kill the spin, the second to launch himself downward like a bolt loosed from a bow.
"Quick Attack into Iron Tail!"
Onix was still under the effects of Dragon Breath, paralysis, and a little disorientation, and missed Pikachu's mark by a few centimetres. When the launched rock neared him, Pikachu used Quick Attack on the webbed surface of the rock, which had nearly lost its stickiness, and ran at full speed before launching himself from the rock at Onix.
Pikachu's tail glowed silver just as the rock hit the ceiling and broke it, making sunlight from outside fall through it. The sudden light blinded Onix, making Pikachu a silhouette, with the silvery appendage reflecting the light a bit.
For a heartbeat, the gym was split between two worlds — the ghostly bluish‑green glow of the burning webs below, and the harsh, golden shaft of sunlight pouring through the ragged hole above. Dust motes and drifting spores swirled in the beam, turning the air into a glittering storm.
Onix recoiled, molten‑iron eyes narrowing against the glare. The sudden light stabbed through the haze, washing out the fire's glow and leaving Pikachu as nothing more than a dark, lean silhouette framed in gold. The silver gleam of his tail caught the light, flashing like a blade.
Ash's voice was a whipcrack. "Now!"
Pikachu tucked in, every muscle tightening, the hum of Charge still thrumming through his frame. The Quick Attack's momentum and the Iron Tail's weight fused into one perfect, downward arc.
Onix tried to twist away, but the paralysis locked his coils for a fraction too long. The burning webbing clinging to his body flared hotter with the movement, sending a shudder of pain through his frame.
The strike landed with a ringing CLANG against the base of his horn — the same weakened point Pikachu had targeted before. Stone splintered under the blow, cracks spider‑webbing outward. The sound echoed through the ruined gym, sharp and final.
Onix's roar was half fury, half pain, reverberating through the fractured floor. His massive head dipped, the weight of it dragging his coils lower, the bluish‑green flames still crawling along the stubborn strands of webbing.
Pikachu's paws hit the scorched floor with a soft thud, knees bending to absorb the impact. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts, each breath pulling in the mingled scents of wet ash, scorched silk, and stone dust. Tiny arcs of static still leapt from his fur, fading almost as soon as they appeared. The sunlight streaming through the jagged hole above caught in his eyes, turning them into molten gold — fierce, unblinking, locked on the towering shape before him.
Onix swayed in place, coils shifting with the slow, uneven rhythm of a creature running on the last dregs of its strength. The bluish‑green flames still clinging to the tattered webbing along its body hissed and spat where the sprinkler water struck them, sending up thin curls of steam. Its breaths came as deep, rumbling groans, each one shuddering through the cracked floor.
The gym was silent save for the hiss of dying fire and the steady drip… drip… drip from the ruined pipes above. The air was thick, heavy — the kind of stillness that presses against your skin, waiting for something to break it.
Both Pokémon stepped forward at the same time, as if answering some unspoken challenge. Pikachu's paws dragged slightly on the stone; Onix's head dipped low, molten eyes narrowing.
And then, as though the weight of the battle finally caught up to them, they both collapsed. Pikachu dropped to one knee before rolling onto his side, his sides heaving. Onix's massive head thudded against the floor, the sound echoing through the ruined gym like the closing of a door.
Neither moved.
Just as Flint was about to declare the match, there was a movement. All of them waited before one of the Pokémon shakily rose, and all of the humans gasped.
Covered in grime and burns, steam curling faintly from scorched skin under the scattered shower of the sprinklers, the figure stood amid the wreckage. The ethereal bluish‑green flames clung stubbornly to the shattered floor and twisted beams around them, their ghostly light flickering across jagged walls and broken stone. Water hissed where it struck the fire, sending up thin veils of mist that swirled in the shaft of sunlight pouring through the torn ceiling.
Dust motes drifted lazily in that golden beam, catching on the ragged edges of the silhouette. A single droplet slid from their jaw to the floor with a faint plink. Every breath they took was visible in the cool, damp air — slow, deliberate, defiant. The sound of someone refusing to fall. The ruined gym seemed to hold its own breath, the only sounds the hiss of dying flames and the steady drip… drip… drip from above.
Ash's eyes widened. Brock's lips pressed into a thin line. Flint's gaze narrowed, unreadable.
And there, framed in light and shadow, unyielding despite the ruin around them, stood…
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AN: ...I might have gone down the deep end during this chapter. How was it? Was the Gym Battle up to the mark?