Ariana's expression shifted ever so slightly, a trace of tension flashing across her features. Without hesitation she gave a sharp command to her Vileplume:
"Protect—now!"
The moment the words left her lips, she knew it was the right decision. The flames that came surging toward her were terrifying—so scorching that even though the rain was pouring down in heavy sheets, the oppressive heat was still closing in on her with alarming speed.
Vileplume's small, stubby hands spread wide, and a shimmering green barrier unfolded in front of it, the absolute defense of Protect.
A blazing torrent of fire slammed mercilessly into the shield. The flames burst outward, illuminating the alley so brightly that Ariana had to squint. The light reflected clearly in her pupils, and within that glare flickered the unmistakable fear and gloom in her eyes.
"Who is it?!"
The moment the flames died down, Ariana snapped coldly, demanding to know the attacker's identity.
Vileplume's body wavered unsteadily—it was breathing hard, its expression strained. Clearly, blocking that Flamethrower, despite the shield, had drained it greatly.
After all, while in the games "Protect" was portrayed as an invincible defense, in reality there were limitations. The greater the gap in power between the user and the attacker, the more exhausting it was to endure. For Vileplume, that exchange had been anything but easy.
Step. Step. Step.
The steady rhythm of footsteps echoed closer and closer until, at last, a boy stepped out from the shadows of the alley. He wore a simple cap pulled low over his brow, rain dripping from its brim. Walking by his side, however, was a far more striking presence—an enormous Charizard, its wings folding and unfurling with restless firelight dancing in its throat.
It was Red.
"Team Rocket," Red's voice was low but firm, his crimson eyes fixed on Ariana. "So, it really was you stirring up trouble here."
Today Red had come to Celadon City only to resupply, but it had not taken him long to notice that something was wrong—the atmosphere, the chaos, the signs of a battle spreading across the city. And when he followed the trail, of course he found the culprits: Team Rocket again.
Red's heart was filled with nothing but contempt for them.
After the events aboard the S.S. Anne, he had learned just how vile they could be. To keep Lt. Surge's connection to them a secret, Team Rocket had even threatened the safety of his mother Delia and his younger brother Ash. That was something Red could never, ever forgive.
"Where is Archer?" Red asked, his tone heavy, almost dangerous.
Archer—the Rocket Executive who had dared threaten his family. Red swore he would never let that man go free.
"Archer?" Ariana frowned slightly at the mention of the name. From Red's words, it seemed her fellow Executive had a personal grudge with this boy.
But she quickly discarded the thought, her gaze sharpening. "Kid, if you don't want to die here, then get out of my way! I don't have time to waste on you. Otherwise—Team Rocket will make sure you regret it!"
She barked the words with icy authority, trying to push him back with nothing more than intimidation. Because in truth, she already knew this youth's strength was formidable. She had no better option than to invoke the Rocket name and hope it gave him pause.
Red, however, only shook his head. His eyes, glinting faintly red under the firelight, grew even colder.
"I see… so it's just as I thought. With villains like you, there's no point in trying to talk."
Without another word he lifted a hand.
"Charizard—Flamethrower."
The dragon's maw opened wide, light building once more at the back of its throat.
Ariana's pupils constricted. Damn it! Again? Already? She barely had time to think before the blast erupted.
BOOM!
The alley lit up like daylight. By the time the flames cleared, Ariana was slumped against a wall, her face pale, her breath ragged.
And Vileplume? Its entire body was blackened and scorched, completely incapacitated.
One of Team Rocket's four generals—Ariana—was down. Captured.
------------------------
Meanwhile, on the battlefield chilled by icy winds, Karen was in her element. She mocked Lorelei in a casual, almost playful tone as she directed her Houndoom and Weavile to press the attack.
Compared to Archer, who was struggling desperately, and Will, who was already being forced into a panicked retreat, Karen had firmly established control of her fight.
"It looks like the time is just about right," Karen murmured to herself, casting a glance toward the center of the battleground. That was where the clash between Lucas and his cousin Lance was raging.
Yet the scale of destruction there seemed noticeably smaller than before. One of them must have begun to gain the upper hand.
As for which of them it was?
Karen smirked faintly. Though Lucas was infuriating and arrogant, his strength was unquestionable. She was inclined to believe that he was the one suppressing Lance. After all, when all was said and done, Lance was still an outsider.
"Fire Blast!"
Seizing the opportunity, Karen snapped her command. Her Houndoom leapt into the air, its body igniting with searing flames that formed the shape of a blazing "大" character.
The attack crashed violently into Lorelei's Lapras. A cry of anguish rang out as the Pokémon reeled. With its Ice typing, Lapras had no resistance against Fire-type moves, and its injuries had already been accumulating. This strike was devastating.
"Damn it!" Lorelei cursed, her face twisting. She had been careless earlier, and now both her Dewgong and Lapras had been pressured into a corner. And now this?
But before Houndoom could press its advantage further, a blur streaked across the field.
Hi-yah!
A swift kick connected solidly with Houndoom's body, sending it crashing down.
"Dark Pulse!" Karen's cheerful smile faltered, her brows knitting in irritation as she snapped another order.
Houndoom twisted mid-fall and unleashed a wave of sinister purple-black energy. The orb of darkness exploded outward—yet the intruder had already struck.
The figure landed gracefully, crouched low, eyes sharp and unyielding.
It was a Hitmonlee.
Karen's frown deepened. A Hitmonlee of this caliber could only belong to one man. Its sheer presence radiated strength, its aura clearly at the level of a Champion-tier Pokémon.
And in all of Kanto, there was only a single person who possessed such a powerful Hitmonlee.
Fighting-type Elite Four—Bruno.
"Well, isn't this interesting," Karen murmured, narrowing her eyes. "Three of Indigo's Elite Four, all showing up together…"
That complicated things. She had no problem handling Lorelei one-on-one, but against both Lorelei and Bruno? Especially when Bruno specialized in Fighting-types, the natural counter to her Dark-types? No, this fight was no longer winnable.
It was time to retreat.
Lorelei exhaled slowly, some tension leaving her shoulders as she turned her head toward Bruno. Her tone, however, was icy.
"What took you so long, Bruno?" she demanded, unable to mask her displeasure.
It was no secret that she disliked him. Everyone in the League knew it. Of the Four, only Bruno seemed to march to the beat of his own drum, endlessly obsessed with training his body rather than working as a team. If not for his undeniable strength, Agatha would have already found a way to have him removed.
"I was busy capturing another Rocket executive," Bruno rumbled in his deep, gravelly voice.
He shifted his broad shoulders, and only then did Karen notice the figure slung carelessly across his back.
It was Will.
Karen's expression froze.
No way. This idiot got caught again?
Bound tightly and gagged with strips of his own ruined clothing, Will's eyes widened as he spotted Karen. He squirmed frantically, muffled cries of "Mmmph! Mmmph!" escaping as he desperately pleaded for her help.
Karen covered her face with one hand, mortified.
Absolutely disgraceful. Beyond embarrassing. Here we are, Lucas and I fighting tooth and nail against the Elite Four—and you, Will, keep getting captured over and over like some rookie grunt.
As much as she wanted to deny him, he was still one of her comrades. Normally, she would have to save him.
But then her gaze swept across the battlefield: Bruno's Hitmonlee and Machamp ready to pounce, Lorelei's Cloyster joining her injured Dewgong.
Karen forced a smile, though her feet shuffled backward ever so slightly.
Sorry, Will. I can't win this one. You'll just have to tough it out in prison for a while.
-------------
"Flare Blitz!"
At the very center of the battlefield, Lucas raised his voice sharply, giving his command directly to Reshiram.
Yes—he had chosen to unleash Reshiram, a Pokémon who is great at special attacks, in a head-on, close-quarters charge!
Although Reshiram was undeniably more skilled when it came to special attacks, that did not mean that its physical attacks were weak. Not at all. Even within the games themselves, Reshiram's base physical attack stat reached an impressive 120, a figure that placed it among the upper-middle to higher tiers when compared with all other Pokémon.
In other words, Reshiram's strength was not confined solely to special attacks—it had the potential to be trained as a physical attacker too.
Of course, if one were actually to train Reshiram purely as a physical attacker within the game, it would usually be considered more of a gimmick or even a kind of perverse amusement rather than a practical strategy.
But this was not a game. This was reality. And in real battle, situations were fluid. Sometimes close combat was not only useful but absolutely necessary.
To be able to adapt, to judge the momentum of the battlefield and choose the most suitable method of attack—that was the mark of a truly excellent Trainer.
Reshiram's melodious, resonant dragon cry echoed across the sky. In the next instant, searing flames erupted to cover its entire body, cloaking it in blazing fire as it hurled itself forward, straight toward Dragonair.
Its presence radiated overwhelming dominance.
Yes—today the White Dragon, too, had its moment of brilliance! Even though its opponent this time was not a legendary Pokémon, but rather a human's dragon, this clash still displayed its majesty—the dignity of the Dragon of Truth itself.
As for Lance's Dragonite, it had already lost its ability to battle.
"Dragonairs, use Dual Dragon Pulse!"
Lance's expression darkened, his voice cold as he issued the command to both of his Dragonair.
The two Dragonair let out harmonious, melodious cries, their voices intertwining as they combined their strength. A massive Dragon Pulse was condensed between them, its energy coalescing into a glowing sphere before being unleashed.
With a thunderous roar, the Dragon Pulse shot forth, meeting Reshiram's blazing Flare Blitz head-on.
BOOM!
Flames and dragon light clashed violently, the collision erupting into an explosion that sent rippling shockwaves surging outward in expanding rings.
But very soon, as Reshiram let out another mighty roar, its burning force surged forward, overwhelming and completely shattering the Dragon Pulse.
And then, in the very next moment, Reshiram's momentum did not stop. With unstoppable force, it smashed heavily into both Dragonair.
Ferocious flames burst forth, surging and coiling around their bodies, scorching their scales as the two Dragonair, locked together, were struck apart. Unable to resist, they were flung downward, plummeting helplessly toward the ground.
They hit the earth with a deafening crash, sending up a billowing cloud of dust and debris.
"As expected… they are no match for Reshiram."
Lance's eyes gleamed with a shadowed light, a somber gloom in his expression. Just as he had feared, even the combined power of the two Dragonair—fighting together with the secret Dual Dragon technique—was still not enough.
After all, that Dual Dragon method was already a formidable combat technique, able to fuse the strength of two Dragonair into something comparable to the might of a Dragonite. By itself, that was already an extraordinary and rare feat.
But to think that such a combination could leap across two whole stages of strength to contend directly with Reshiram? That was nothing more than wishful thinking. It was never going to be possible.
"Looks like the time I needed has already been bought. That should be enough. Cousin, we'll continue this little game another time."
Reshiram beat its wings and ascended once more, positioning itself gracefully above Lucas. The young Trainer cast a sidelong glance toward the distance, where two figures were rapidly approaching.
It was none other than Bruno and Lorelei—two of the Elite Four.
This operation in Celadon City had drawn out three members of the Elite Four altogether.
There was no need for further words. The situation was clear. Who knew how many of Archer's men would manage to escape? Perhaps some would make it out, perhaps none at all.
But that was no longer his concern. Lucas had already fulfilled his part—he had successfully occupied Lance and dragged out the battle until now.
"You're planning to run, aren't you, Lucas!"
Lance's face grew even darker at those words. He pulled out another Poké Ball, his voice low but firm as he prepared to summon yet another of his main battlers.
Yes, his Dragonite had fallen, his Dragonairs had been defeated—but he was not finished yet. He still had other partners, other weapons.
"Cousin," Lucas replied with a faint lift of his brow and a crooked, mocking smile tugging at his lips, "clinging too tightly to pride will only make you guard trash as if it were treasure. This is not called running away. This… is what we call a strategic retreat."
"Our battle isn't over yet!" Lance shot back without hesitation, his words resolute and unyielding.
He didn't care what Lucas said about pride. He was Lance, Dragon Master of Indigo. If he was arrogant, then arrogance itself was justified. And as long as he still had fight left in him, as long as he had not been utterly stripped of every means of resistance, then their battle could not be declared finished!
"It is over, Cousin. Right now, you are not my opponent." Lucas's voice was calm, steady, and almost pitying. "This time, perhaps your League can claim victory… but next time, the outcome may be very different."
With those words, Lucas mounted Reshiram's back, his smile faint but tinged with defiance.
Yes, in truth, he had overwhelmed Lance. But despite his personal triumph, the larger operation was still a failure. The League had intervened. And who could say how many of Archer's forces had managed to flee? Perhaps some… perhaps none at all.
(End of Chapter)