"Wilder, do we really have nothing to worry about? Even with your two Arbok and the Fearow, you ought to be a little careful out here."
Yara said it from within his arms, her face all charm and her voice all sweetness, putting out one pale little hand to draw circles on his chest.
"Don't fret. As long as you look after me properly, I'll see you come to no harm." Wilder's face was full of pleasure. "I've had the inside word from my uncle. The strongest thing on this Trial Island is Elite-class, and there aren't many of those. Don't fret."
"Elite-class Pokémon? Then we are in danger. Oh — stop it."
Wilder gave a handful of something soft a squeeze, and laughed quietly.
"Elite-class, is it? How do you know I can't handle them? Are you doubting my strength, you little minx?"
His hands did not stop while his mouth was busy, wandering over her and drawing out soft laughter and mock scolding from the woman in his arms.
When Vance arrived, the pair of them were flirting in just this fashion.
*He certainly knows how to enjoy himself. He must have something behind him.*
The one who knows you best is usually your enemy.
Of this particular enemy, Wilder, Vance knew a fair amount.
From the beginning Vance had made a study of him — his temperament, his tastes, how he dealt with people, who he dealt with — and had a clear picture of all of it.
Those things were also the reason he had come here now. As he understood it, Wilder repaid every slight, was pettiness itself, and once he had made up his mind to kill somebody he would not easily let it drop. Even if they did not meet on Trial Island, there would be no avoiding trouble outside.
Not unless Vance died on Trial Island, and that was not going to happen. So the only road open to him was to kill, and the one to die could only be Wilder, even with the risk that killing him would bring afterwards.
Vance looked about him, taking in the ground around Wilder in detail, turning over how to kill him quickly and cleanly.
*Two Arbok. And no sign of that Fearow — in his Poké Ball, I imagine. And there are the unexpected factors to allow for as well.*
One plan of attack after another surfaced in his mind, and soon Vance settled on the simplest way to do it: snap his neck the instant he closed on him.
"Hee hee. Stop it."
While the two of them were playing at their flirting, Vance suddenly Teleported in close, going all out from the first strike — enough to kill in one.
"Trouble—"
Wilder felt that sudden force the instant it appeared and was startled by it. A Poké Ball on him shook, and a towering Pokémon appeared, broke apart the force Vance had loosed and drove him back.
"Rooaar—"
The great shape stood in front of the pair of them, meeting Vance head-on, giving off a powerful presence, the weight of it heavy in the air.
"An Elite-class Rhydon!"
Vance's eyes narrowed and he pulled back to a safe distance quickly. He had not expected Wilder to have an Elite-class Rhydon guarding him. No wonder he had been so free of fear.
"It's you!"
Wilder had seen who the newcomer was as well.
"So you're a psychic! I never imagined it." Wilder said it with surprise — from that attack just now he had worked out that Vance was a psychic. Then something occurred to him and his face turned hard.
*He has to be killed here today while he's still weak, or the trouble will never end!* Wilder said it inwardly, and then gave the Rhydon its order.
"Rhydon, get in there and kill him. Use Rock Tomb."
"Rooaar—"
The Rhydon did not obey the order. It used Stone Edge instead, and sharp rocks flew at Vance one after another.
*I knew it. Fine, if it won't take my orders, it won't. As long as it kills him.*
Vance Teleported and dodged the Rhydon's attack, then threw several balls of energy up at it, all of which the Rhydon blocked easily.
The psychic force he set loose around Wilder was broken apart by the Rhydon too, and the ambush failed.
An Elite-class Pokémon has a very keen sense of the forces around it, and Vance's psychic power was one such force, on top of which its strength did not match an Elite-class Rhydon's.
Even so, the Rhydon could not bring Vance down for the time being. With the unpredictability of psychic power, Teleporting from place to place, he might not beat it head-on but he could evade its moves and look for a chance to strike back.
"Damn it. Come out, Fearow. Arbok, get over here, work with the Rhydon."
Wilder had noticed the same thing. He sent out a Fearow and called the two Arbok back to him.
"I did wonder why you were so confident. So you're a psychic. Not that it amounts to much."
Seeing his four Pokémon pen Vance in, Wilder felt somewhat easier and gave the order to attack.
"Ksss—"
The two Arbok opened their mouths and fired volley after volley of poison needles, thick as a net, blanketing wherever Vance appeared.
The Fearow cruised in the sky, swooping down to claw at him again and again, and the Rhydon loosed one powerful attack after another.
For a while, with that many attacks coming at him, Vance was looking distinctly the worse for wear.
*I need to think of something. This can't go on.* Vance's face turned grave, and while he dodged, his mind worked fast for a way out.
If he could not come up with something better, his only choice was to retreat before his strength ran out, or he was certain to be the one who died. On the system display was the Elite-class Rhydon's data.
> **Name:** Rhydon (male)
> **Type:** Ground, Rock
> **Ability:** Rock Head
> **Aptitude:** Gym-class
> **Level:** 42
> **Moves:** Fury Attack, Horn Attack, Stomp, Scary Face, Rock Blast, Cut, Hammer Arm, Rock Tomb, Roar, Stone Edge, Earthquake
Also on the field were the two Arbok, one at level 25 and one at 26, and the Fearow at level 29.
"Hahaha."
Seeing Vance pinned down so completely, Wilder laughed aloud. His mind at ease now, he drew Yara to him and spoke with a swagger.
"See that? That's what lets me look an Elite in the face. So you tell me, what have I got to fear on this Trial Island?"
"Hee hee hee, I always knew my Wilder was the best."
Yara flattered him, her manner more deferential than ever, keener than ever to please.
"Hahaha. This will make a fine show to watch."
"Boom—"
Vance slipped clear of the storm of attacks and landed in open ground, thinking it over.
Without the Rhydon, he would not have been afraid of the other Pokémon all together, even head-on. The trouble was precisely the Rhydon.
On his belt, the Poké Ball with the Gyarados in it was shaking — he wanted out to fight alongside him — but Vance held it down and would not let him join in. It was too dangerous out there. He could still evade; the Gyarados could not.
*If it comes to it, I'll have to pull out for now.*
Vance said it inwardly, and set a part of his attention on the system display to see whether there was anything he could use.
*The Slowing Potion — no. It works far too slowly on an Elite-class Rhydon. On a Raticate it would do.*
Vance's eye moved on down the list, looking for something suitable.
A fight in the wild is one side or the other dying. Whatever the method, winning is all that counts — not like those tournaments with their rules for this and their rules for that.