The clearing on Route 8 still vibrated with the aftershock of Tem's barked orders. Pine needles quivered on their branches; dust spiraled in thin, nervous columns. Above it all, Golbat circled—broad wings cutting pale crescents through the noon light—while the Arbok at Heihua's side lay sprawled near its trainer, smoldering from earlier exchanges.
Ethan didn't wait for anyone to breathe.
"Charmeleon, Ember—now!"
The newly evolved Shiny sprang forward, a flare of heat igniting in his throat before bursting toward the lounging serpent. The strike was sudden and shameless—exactly the kind of opening gambit that would make a rulebook purist faint. It also worked. Arbok flinched, scales flashing, the pain of the scorch ringing across the field.
Tem rounded on Ethan, fury knitting his brow. "You don't even follow battle rules!"
Rules? Ethan met his glare without blinking. You're a Rockets cadre who kidnaps people and flips stolen Pokémon on the black market—and you want to talk about rules? Out loud, he said nothing. Time was a resource, and he wasn't going to spend it on Rocket theatrics.
"Close the gap—keep the pressure! Scratch on approach; be ready to finish!"
"Rua!"
Charmeleon streaked through the dust, claws glinting. Arbok squirmed to recover, but a second Ember caught the serpent just as it raised its head. Fire kissed purple scales; the hiss that followed was ragged and ugly.
Tem finally snapped into action. "Golbat—Air Cutter, now!"
A silvered gust scythed from Golbat's wings, slicing the sunlight into knives.
"Eyes up! Dodge what you can—if you can't, catch it!"
Charmeleon twisted, ducked, and when a blade of wind came too fast, he slashed through it with a cross of claws, the impact jarring his forearms. He didn't break stride. In three beats he was behind Arbok; a heartbeat later, the remaining wind scythes—meant for him—carved into the serpent instead. Arbok's body shuddered under the layered cuts, the earlier burns now crosshatched by pale streaks where the wind had bitten.
"Finish!" Ethan's voice landed like a gavel.
Charmeleon's claws flashed one last time. Arbok slumped, out cold. Heihua's breath stalled; Golbat shrieked overhead, wheeling in agitation. Charmeleon—ever the showman now—cocked his head at the bat and lifted two talons in a tiny, taunting beckon.
Tem's mouth curved into a humorless smile. "You want a real fight? Golbat—Wing Attack!"
The air cracked white as Golbat folded its dive into a single murderous line.
"Hold—catch it! Scratch on contact!"
Against a foe ten levels higher, dodging a dive like that outright was fantasy. Charmeleon anchored, focus narrowed to a needlepoint. At the split-second of impact—wing edges about to rake him—his claws snapped up, catching the wing-ridge with a grunt. The force was enormous; Golbat wrenched free on raw momentum and still clipped him across the chest. Charmeleon flew, skidding hard along packed earth.
"Air Cutter!" Tem pressed.
"Flip! Claw the ground—Smokescreen!"
Charmeleon twisted mid-air, slammed both claws into the soil, and carved a gouge to stop his slide. Black smoke poured from his mouth in a billowing sheet, swallowing the field. Ethan saw the wince—the Air Cutter had landed—but the smoke continued to bloom until it draped the clearing like a storm cloud.
Lena clutched Mr. Fuji's sleeve. "Grandpa, that'll barely delay Golbat—ultrasound will find him in seconds."
Fuji didn't look away from the haze. "We have to trust Ethan's call." Even so, a thin seam of worry creased his brow.
Within the dark, Ethan's voice carried, calm as a metronome. "Remember our target."
Tem blinked. "Target? What—"
He didn't finish. Golbat snapped out a pulse of sound that thrummed in the bones; the smokescreen tattered under the sonic pressure. In the gap, a shape appeared—silent, low, and terrifyingly close.
Charmeleon stood two meters in front of Tem, smoke curling off his shoulders, eyes bright and unblinking.
Tem's scalp prickled. He's going to attack me. The thought hit like icewater. Who's the Rocket here—him or me?
He staggered backward. "Golbat—stop him! Wing Attack!"
The bat plunged.
But Charmeleon didn't strike Tem. He snatched something from the ground where Tem had been standing a heartbeat earlier and sprinted—straight for Ethan.
A familiar sphere gleamed in his claws.
"Poké Ball." Tem checked the pouch at his belt on reflex—everything accounted for. Heihua and Takashi did the same, shaking their heads. And then, in a single fluid motion, Charmeleon pressed the ball into Ethan's hand.
Light flashed. Charmeleon vanished into the capsule.
Tem's eyes went round. "What—how is his Poké Ball here?!"
Because Lena's dropped it earlier… because Tem had moved without noticing where he'd stepped… because Ethan had made "the smokescreen that won't work" into the perfect cover for a retrieval run. The Rocket cadre understood it all a half-second too late.
The capsule clicked once in Ethan's palm.
Registered partner confirmed: Shiny Charmeleon.
Intimacy +30 → Current 42.
Threshold reached — First-Tier Partner Reward unlocked.
Ethan exhaled—once, slow—and hurled the ball. In a pulse of light, Charmeleon reappeared, braced and ready. Data overlaid Ethan's sightline: level gains from the Houndoom and Arbok victories were holding firm; the gap to Golbat had shrunk, but only to ten levels. Still a canyon—unless the reward was game-changing.
Tem had seen enough sleight of hand for one day. "New plan. Golbat—carve them apart!"
"Let's test our luck. Ember—pin it high!"
Charmeleon spat a wave of fire straight up, not to hit so much as to box Golbat's flight path. The bat twisted to slip the heat—but heat was bait, not the trap.
"Smokescreen, tight cone! Now—Dragon Breath through the cone!"
The smoke narrowed the spread, the way a nozzle focuses a hose; the black flame lanced out as a dense beam. Golbat corkscrewed, barely dodging—close enough for Ethan to feel the wind shear—but its wingbeat stuttered.
Tem's jaw set. "Again!"
High above, Golbat raked the air into another Air Cutter.
Ethan's reply was already moving. "Anchor—two-step: Scratch intercept, then Ember!"
Charmeleon braced. The wind-blade met claw with a screech; the instant it split, Charmeleon's Ember followed, forcing Golbat to break angle. Momentum shifted, one click at a time.
On the fringe of the field, Takashi swore. Heihua bit down on her lip. This wasn't raw power; this was control—of space, of tempo, of nerve. And that made it worse.
Tem's gaze knifed toward Ethan. He's stalling. For what?
A whisper skated across Ethan's vision—the system reward finally unspooling details:
First-Tier Reward: Charmeleon's Qualification upgraded from Elite → Quasi-King.
Bonus: One-time Skill Disc — (Choose & imprint once; single-use).
Ethan's pulse kicked. Quasi-King wasn't just a line on a profile; it was a higher ceiling for every stat curve, a deeper reservoir for stamina, a cleaner channel for move power. And the disc…
He didn't have time to theorycraft a full loadout tree. He needed an immediate, Golbat-relevant spike—something to punish a fast, airborne target and disrupt tempo.
"Charmeleon—hold!" he called, buying himself three breaths with footwork feints and a fake-out Ember that forced Golbat to rise.
He palmed the disc, felt it spark warm against the ball's lock. The system asked nothing out loud; he willed the choice.
Skill Disc imprint: Aerial Ace.(One-time boost; immediate mastery at baseline; future growth unlocked.)
"Up you go. Aerial Ace—now!"
Charmeleon launched like a shot, feet tearing divots from the earth. For an instant he seemed to blur, the line of his charge tightening into inevitability. Golbat juked left—too late. Charmeleon carved past in a clean, impossible arc; a heartbeat afterward, the impact landed, delayed but savage, and Golbat tumbled, wings scrabbling to catch air.
Tem's eyes flashed. "Get altitude!"
"Don't let it. Dragon Breath—clip the climb!"
The black stream caught Golbat's wingtip, resetting its balance. It saved itself with a wrenching flap, but the rhythm was gone.
"Again—Aerial Ace!"
Charmeleon ghosted forward, hit the seam where wing and body met, then vanished under Golbat's belly as the delayed force detonated through the bat's frame. The larger Pokémon reeled, altitude bleeding away in ragged meters.
Heihua's breath stuttered. Takashi's hands tightened white. Tem ground his teeth. Winning by force was one thing; being dismantled by strategy was another.
"Wing Attack! Press!" Tem barked.
"On my mark—Smokescreen cut, Ember screen, then Ace right through!"
Smoke snapped into a narrow banner; heat flickered to blind; the strike followed, as sure as a signature. The two Pokémon collided in a flash of light and dust. When it cleared, Golbat hovered—barely—and Charmeleon crouched, trembling with effort but grinning, flame-tail high.
Tem yanked a Poké Ball from his belt, fury burning cold. He didn't throw it. Not yet.
Ethan lifted his hand, palm outward. "Stand down." His voice was steady, not loud, but it carried. "You got your 'trade.' You're not getting the aftermath."
A long, brittle beat. In the trees, a twig snapped—one of the trainers Ethan had called earlier, watching for the signal that never came.
Tem read the air: the old man's Hypno, the Shiny Charmeleon that was fighting ten levels up and stealing tempo, the possibility of cops or worse if this dragged on. He spat a word that wasn't a command, then sliced a hand toward the woods.
"Fall back."
Golbat labored into a climb; Heihua recalled Arbok with a glum frown; Takashi shot Ethan a look that mixed hatred with something more dangerous—respect.
The Rockets dissolved into the trees, shadows swallowing uniforms, the crimson R's winking out one by one.
Silence drifted down at last.
Charmeleon exhaled, shoulders slumping—then straightened when Ethan's hand found the side of his jaw. "You were brilliant," Ethan said softly. "We were brilliant."
Charmeleon's grin returned, toothy and proud. "Rua."
Lena hurried across the clearing and threw her arms around Fuji. "Grandpa—"
He clasped her tight, then looked over her shoulder at Ethan, eyes bright with something like wonder. "You've earned him, beyond question. Charmander… Charmeleon… he's yours."
Ethan glanced at the gleaming capsule in his hand—their bond forged twice now, in fire and in choice. "Yeah," he murmured. "He is."
In the quiet corner of his vision, the system's final line settled like a promise:
Quasi-King unlocked.
Path forward widened.
Ethan's smile sharpened. Team Rocket had just learned the first lesson: a trainer with vision turns numbers into inevitabilities. And this was only the first reward.