As the old saying goes, wealth has a way of moving the heart, and if anyone had asked whether Gilbert's offer had moved Nova, the honest answer was yes. Part of him couldn't help thinking that if someone handed him the keys to a major Gym, he'd take the deal even if the only payment involved were a Pokémon with rare, once-in-a-generation potential.
Still, being a Trainer wasn't like his old life, grinding away for whoever happened to be paying that month. Back then, loyalty had simply gone to whoever offered the better wage. But a Trainer's path was something he was building for himself, and when it came to something that was truly his own, what mattered wasn't only the size of the reward, but whether he could live with the choice afterward.
Nova had made a quiet promise to himself, now that he'd been given this second chance at life: a person shouldn't go running to whoever happened to be offering the biggest handout that day. He couldn't very well become Gilbert's disciple this morning simply because the offer was bigger, only to abandon that the moment somebody else came along with something better still.
Mort might have been a shameless old troublemaker, but he was also the one who had handed Nova his very first real opportunity, the one who had gotten him started on the road to becoming a Trainer at all. In his heart, Nova still counted the man as something close to a master, and over these past two months, Mort had proven surprisingly quick to help whenever Nova actually needed something.
More than that, Mort's two great ambitions in life were to finally beat Marty Davison and to prove, once and for all, that he was the better trainer compared to Gilbert. If Nova turned around and became Gilbert's personal disciple after everything, it would make him look like the worst kind of turncoat, the sort who switched sides the moment it was convenient.
So even with Gilbert pouring every ounce of sincerity into his offer, Nova turned him down.
Gilbert's face crumpled like a wrung-out rag. He genuinely hadn't expected that a kid so obviously obsessed with money would have the nerve to actually refuse him.
Had he simply not offered enough? That didn't seem possible. He was handing over an entire Gym as the prize. What sort of person turned down a fortune worth billions in league currency?
Worked up and increasingly frustrated, Gilbert reached for the one trick reliably available to men his age. He couldn't quite bring himself to make a scene by wailing and threatening dramatics, not with his dignity on the line, but he could still manage a solid round of stubborn insistence. One way or another, Nova wasn't leaving until he had a proper explanation.
"Give it up, kid," Gilbert said. "Every last corner of Sand River City belongs to Armed Mountain."
Worn down by equal parts pressure and persuasion, Nova finally caved and admitted the truth.
"Wait, you're Senior Brother's disciple? Why didn't he ever mention that to me?"
Gilbert looked as though he'd just heard the strangest piece of news imaginable, his expression somewhere between disbelief and pure bafflement.
Nova clicked his tongue, thinking the question was in rather poor taste. "Sir, have you noticed how much your senior brother seems to dislike you?"
"I am NOT disliked," Gilbert shot back.
"When was the last time you actually spoke to my master?" Nova asked.
"Just this past New Year. I even sent him a proper holiday message."
"And did he answer?"
"...That's beside the point!" Gilbert huffed. "That old traitor, hiding out there and completely ignoring the Layered Peaks Gym, and I never said a word about it! Now he's gone and found himself an heir, and instead of thinking about what's good for the Layered Peaks Gym, he wants you to take over his own crumbling little Gym instead. Where's the fairness in that?"
Nova privately thought Gilbert had something of a point there, though he still felt obligated to defend his cheap excuse of a master's honor, at least out loud.
"What you're saying makes sense, but this is an old grudge between the two of you. It really has nothing to do with me."
Gilbert's expression shifted into something sly and calculating, so different from the noble reputation "Armed Mountain" carried across the region that Nova almost didn't recognize him.
"How does it have nothing to do with you? I assumed you belonged to some other Gym entirely, which is exactly why I never tried to poach you before. But if you're already my senior brother's disciple, then what real difference is there between his student and mine? Don't you worry about a thing, kid. I'll have a personal word with that old traitor myself."
This was turning out better than expected. Nova had come to Sand River City planning to leave that very day, never imagining he'd walk away with a show like this instead. The long-simmering rivalry between two of the region's most famous Ground-type masters was finally about to boil over, and somehow he'd become the spark that lit the fuse. Privately, Nova was cheering the whole thing on.
Gilbert dialed immediately. No answer.
He tried again. The call was rejected outright.
On the third attempt, the line reported the number was unreachable, plain proof he'd been blocked entirely.
Fuming, Gilbert rounded on Nova. "Use your phone. Call him."
Nova, uncharacteristically eager to cooperate, worried that Mort might simply refuse to pick up for Gilbert and ruin the whole spectacle, dialed the number himself without hesitation.
This time, Mort answered almost instantly, proof enough of the gap between a favored student and a brother he could barely stand.
"What's going on?" Mort asked.
"I'm at the Layered Peaks Gym right now," Nova said.
"He knows you're my disciple?"
"He knows."
"You didn't actually go through that ridiculous VIP challenge of his, did you?"
Nova hadn't, technically, though the outcome had amounted to much the same thing, so he didn't bother correcting the assumption and simply agreed.
Mort's voice picked up with obvious interest. "So? Did you win or lose?"
"I won," Nova admitted.
Laughter erupted from the other end of the line, loud enough that Nova worried the old man might actually choke on it. "Gilbert, oh Gilbert, your day has finally come! Beaten by a complete rookie! Well done, Nova! Name your reward and I'll make sure you get it!"
Gilbert couldn't stand to listen any longer and snatched the phone straight out of Nova's hand.
"Don't trouble yourself over his reward, Senior Brother. I've already given him the position of heir to the Layered Peaks Gym."
"Gilbert, you absolute menace! You started out as nothing more than an intern here! What gives you the right to steal my own heir?"
"Watch your mouth, Mort, before something falls on you for saying that. Every single Pokémon in your possession was chosen for you by our master, and you dare talk about heirs? His memorial sits right here in the Layered Peaks Gym. If you've got the nerve, come look our master in the eye and tell him yourself that you mean to abandon the Layered Peaks Gym, that you'd rather tear up its roots and start some rival Ground-type Gym of your own!"
That barrage left the other end of the line completely silent.
Nova could only marvel at the display. Someone who had actually served as an Elite Four member clearly operated on a different level from an ordinary Ground-type master, verbal sparring included. Invoking their shared master's memory like that was a masterstroke, seizing the moral high ground simply by being the one who still tended the family shrine.
It took Mort a long moment to recover from the onslaught. When he finally spoke again, his voice carried an edge of real warning. "Stay right where you are and wait for me at the Layered Peaks Gym. I'm coming to get you myself, right now."