Her eyes scanned the room and landed on the beverage station. She beelined for it, humming a tune under her breath as she poured herself a cup of coffee. As she turned, her gaze swept across the lounge and met Elias's.
She looked at him. His white hair, his blank expression. A flicker of curiosity crossed her face. Then, a friendly, uncomplicated smile bloomed.
"Hellooo! Are you a pokemon trainer in this region?" She said, walking over and plopping herself into the chair opposite his.
"I am." Elias answered with a nod.
"Cool. My name's Ellen, and I'm from Saffron City in Kanto Region. I'm registered to the tournament in Metrolink City. Are you too?"
Her introduction was like a splash of color in the sterile, grey-scale world of Elias's thoughts. Kanto. Saffron City. The names were data points from League geography files, associated with strong trainers and dense urban centers.
Ellen looked less like a seasoned battler and more like… an idol. Her bright hair, her coordinated outfit, her easy smile—it was a cultivated image. In Xycle, image was a uniform, meant to intimidate or conceal. Here, it seemed to be about attraction, about standing out in a different way.
"Yes." Elias replied, his tone neutral. "The Metrolink tournament."
"Great! Maybe we'll face each other!" Ellen's smile widened, showing perfectly white teeth.
"What is your goal?" Elias asked suddenly. The question slipped out, sharper and more direct than he'd intended. It was the question that haunted him, the one he asked of everyone now.
Ellen blinked, caught off guard for a second. Then she laughed, a light, musical sound.
"My goal? To win, of course! To have amazing battles with amazing people!" She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "And… to be seen, you know? To show everyone what me and my partners can do!"
To be seen. Elias turned the phrase over in his mind. It was the opposite of everything he'd been doing. His work with Xycle was about operating unseen. His personal quest was to see, to observe from the outside. Ellen wanted to be at the center, in the light.
It was another type of dream. Not a shared dream like Shan's, not a desperate grab for power like Rein's, but a performative one. A dream built on recognition.
Ellen grinned, seemingly delighted.
"What's your team like? I've got my partner, Pikachu. It's the cutest!" She patted a pokeball on her belt with obvious affection. "And I just caught the cutest little Ghastly in the ship I've ridden on my way here. It's a bit shy, but we're working on it."
She spoke of her pokemon not as tools or assets, but as individuals with personalities. The words were foreign in this context.
Elias looked down at his own belt, at the emptiness of it. How would he describe his pokemon?
"I have a Krokorok." He said finally. "And a Starly."
"Oh, a ground type and a flying type!" Ellen nodded, her expression turning analytical for a second before melting back into cheer. "Krokorok are so cool! They look like they mean business. You must be a really confident trainer."
Before Elias could formulate a response, Nurse Joy's voice called from the counter:
"Trainer Elias? Your pokemon are ready!"
Elias stood, a sudden, inexplicable urge to end the conversation gripping him. This interaction was outside his parameters. It was messy.
"I have to go." He said, the words coming out more abruptly than he intended.
Ellen's smile didn't waver.
"Oh, of course! Good luck with your training! Maybe I'll see you at the tournament brackets!" She gave a little wave.
Elias nodded stiffly, collected his healed pokeballs, and shouldered the black plastic bag. As he walked towards the door, he could feel her gaze on his back. It wasn't suspicious or assessing like Sarah's. It was just… friendly.
He stepped out into the cool night, the door hissing shut behind him, sealing away the warmth and the chatter. The weight of the bag with the mask and coat felt heavier than ever.
***
The second week before the tournament is not much eventful than the first week. He just evolved his Starly into Staravia on the third day and continued his training until he finally made it to the final week before the tournament.
This time it was different. The final week before the tournament will be much eventful than the others. All the trainers registered for the tournament will meet in the arena where it will take place. Its purpose was to introduce them and make them assess each other so they will have idea on who's going to be their opponents.
The Metrolink City Battle Arena wasn't just a stadium; it was a colossal, modern colosseum of gleaming steel and reinforced glass, it dominated the city center, a temple to public combat.
Elias stood in the shadows of a soaring archway leading to the competitor's entrance, watching. Trainers streamed past him—a river of bright colors, confident laughter, and the clatter of pokeballs. They moved in groups, comparing strategies, boasting about captures, their faces alight with a nervous, giddy energy.
A security guard with a clipboard gave him a once-over, checked his registered Trainer ID, and waved him through a side door marked "COMPETITORS ONLY - LOUNGE."
The lounge was vast. Plush couches were arranged in conversational clusters. Massive screens displayed tournament rules and promotional videos of past champions. A refreshment table was filled with snacks and drinks.
Elias moved to the farthest corner of the room. He chose a single armchair tucked behind a large, potted fern, a position that gave him a panoramic view of the room.
He observed.
He saw Ellen holding court near the refreshments. A small crowd had gathered around her, drawn by her vibrant energy. She was laughing, her Pikachu perched on her shoulder, waving its little tail. She was performing, just as she'd said she wanted to. To be seen.
He saw a trainer with a shaved head polishing a single pokeball, his expression one of focus.
He saw a pair of twins finishing each other's sentences as they pointed at different trainers, clearly analyzing types and team compositions.
He saw a girl clutching a Cherubi to her chest, looking equal parts terrified and exhilarated.
Suddenly, the main doors to the lounge swung open with a flourish. A man with curly, purple hair walked in confidently. He is wearing a opened, brown polo paired with black pants.
"Hello! Novice trainers who are gathered for the tournament, I am the host for this year's Novice Clash Tournament, John Wellingham!"
John Wellingham spoke with the booming ease of someone used to commanding attention without raising his voice. His purple curls were perfectly coiffed, and his smile was wide, white, and financially backed. He moved to the center of the lounge as if it were a stage, the sea of trainers parting slightly for him.
"Welcome, welcome! I know you were all expecting the tournament to begin next week. But, as many of you know, time is the one commodity even I can't manufacture more of!" He gave a self-deprecating chuckle that a few sycophantic trainers in the crowd echoed. "Between the Adelian Charity Gala and overseeing the expansion of my Battle Chateau in Kalos, my schedule is, as they say, packed tighter than a Diglett's tunnel!"
He waved a dismissive hand, as if shooing away his own fabulous burdens.
"So, I've decided to expedite matters. The Metrolink City Novice Clash will begin not next week… but tomorrow!"
A wave of stunned murmurs rippled through the lounge.
Elias watched the reactions. Ellen's bright smile froze for a second before snapping back, brighter than ever. The grim trainer with the single ball simply nodded, as if he'd expected no less. The twins looked at each other, a flash of panic before they began whispering furiously. The girl with the Cherubi looked like she might faint.
John soaked it all in, clearly enjoying the chaos he'd sown.
"Consider it your first test! A true trainer is always ready! The brackets will be randomized and posted at midnight tonight on the tournament hub. Be here, in this arena, at 8 AM sharp. Lateness means forfeiture. No exceptions, not even for my dear, distant cousin Bartholomew."
His eyes scanned the crowd, lingering for a microsecond on faces here and there. His gaze swept past Elias's dark corner without stopping.
"Now!" John clapped his hands together. "Mingle! Size up your competition! The bar is open—on my tab, of course. Just don't do anything that would require my lawyers. I'll see you all in the morning, ready to put on a show!"
With a final, glittering smile, John turned and exited the lounge the same way he came, leaving behind a room buzzing with energy.
Elias remained in his chair, unmoved. The change in schedule was irrelevant to his mission parameters. He was to compete. That was all. Whether it was in a week or in twelve hours changed nothing.
Elias slipped out of the lounge through a service exit, the frantic buzz of the room fading behind the heavy door. He emerged into a quieter corridor lined with pipes and supply crates.
He had taken only a few steps when a familiar, sharp voice cut through silence.
"Elias."
He turned. Sarah leaned against the wall where the corridor intersected with a delivery alley, half-shrouded in shadow. She was back in her more typical attire—a sleek black pantsuit, her red hair down and framing her face.
He walked over, stopping a few feet from her.
"Commander."
"I see that you're still the same." She said, her lips curving in a thin, amused smile. "Your objective has been upgraded."
She pushed off the wall and took a step closer, her voice dropping.
"Win this tournament, Elias. Not just participate. Win it."
Elias processed the command. Victory had never been a stated parameter before.
"Why?"
"The Boss believes the 'Cycle' can only be broken by those who understand the system well enough to dominate it from within. A public victory, under your registered identity, serves multiple purposes. It validates his choice in you. It creates a credible, even celebrated, persona for you to operate behind."
"But there is a more reason." Sarah continued, her voice becoming even quieter, almost a whisper in the concrete corridor. "In three days, the Boss is leading a team to Maribell Town. There is someone at the top of the Bell Tower we have reason to believe holds critical knowledge in the history of our region."
"The team will be composed of Senior Grunts and above. If you win this tournament, the Boss will raise your rank to Senior Grunt on the spot. You will earn your place on that mission."
The offer hung in the air, heavy with implication. Maribell Town. The Bell Tower. The missions were escalating in scale and symbolism. And rank… rank within Xycle meant access, trust, a deeper understanding of the organization he was part of.
"Win the tournament." Sarah reiterated, finality in her tone. "Become Senior Grunt Elias. Then come to Maribell and help us reach the top."
She gave him one last, assessing look, then turned to melt back into the shadows of the alley.
"Don't disappoint him."
She was gone.
Elias stood alone in the corridor. The mission was no longer about observation. It was about conquest. A victory here was a key to a higher-stakes game.
He turned to leave, his mind already running probabilities, and then he froze.
At the far end of the service corridor, back near the lounge door he'd exited, a shadow moved. A figure had been leaning against the wall, partially hidden behind a large metal electrical box. As they stepped slightly into the light, the familiar wavy blonde-and-blue hair came into view.
Ellen.
She wasn't smiling. Her usual vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a still, pale shock. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the spot where Sarah had just been standing. She'd heard. Not everything, perhaps, but enough.