"It's settled." Gilbert finished scolding his senior brother and handed the phone back to Nova.
Nova, however, didn't think anything had been settled at all.
"Um, is Master coming to beat you up? Martial Uncle, maybe you should lie low for a while. Don't worry, when he gets here I'll try to talk him down before things get out of hand!"
Gilbert glared at him. "Me, avoid him? That old man has one foot in the grave already. I could pin him down and beat him with one hand tied behind my back!"
Nova didn't have time to point out that Gilbert wasn't exactly younger than Mort. He needed to get his next line out before it was too late.
"Martial Uncle, whatever happens, please don't fight each other! Whatever happens, don't fight each other!"
As a rule, once that particular line gets spoken, a fight is more or less guaranteed.
Gilbert was sitting in the Layered Peaks Gym's top battle arena, a venue built to withstand Champion-level battles and found only in the Alliance's highest-ranked Gyms across the Norlandia region.
Mort, meanwhile, was practically shaking with anger. The moment he hung up the phone, he climbed onto his Garchomp and shot off toward the Layered Peaks Gym at top speed.
As for the flight regulations of Sand River City, Mort couldn't care less. Let the Alliance officers write him a ticket if they wanted to try.
He flew straight over the Gym, pulled out a megaphone, and bellowed, "Gilbert! Get out here! I'm going to beat you black and blue today!"
He'd barely gotten two shouts out before a Psybeam streaked up from below.
Garchomp banked hard to dodge, and Mort, still cursing, nearly bit through his own tongue from the sudden jolt.
Down in the arena, Gilbert raised his own megaphone. "What are you barking about up there? If you've got the nerve, come down here and say it!"
Mort didn't bother trading words. He landed his Garchomp directly on the battle field. The two men's eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to crackle. Nova, still playing his part, called out weakly, "Please... please don't fight..."
Both older men turned to him at the exact same moment. "This is grown-up business. Kids don't get a say."
Nova had been waiting for that line the whole time.
"Alrighty then!"
Pretending to be reluctant, Nova scooped up Meowscarada and hurried to the spectator seats, sitting down like the most obedient boy in the world, ready to watch two old rivals collide like colliding planets.
It was a shame nobody was selling sunflower seeds or chocolate. Watching a good fight without snacks just wasn't the same.
Word had already spread through the Gym staff that Mort was here to crash Gilbert's territory, and since this counted as an internal matter for the Layered Peaks Gym, it wasn't appropriate for outsiders to watch. With Gilbert's quiet approval, the whole area around the arena was cleared out.
Within two kilometers of that battlefield, only three living people remained.
The surroundings were eerily empty, but the battle itself was anything but quiet.
Nova and Meowscarada sat side by side in the stands, watching and giving commentary as the fight unfolded.
"Whoa, Psybeam used like that?"
"Garchomp against Garchomp, now this is a real showdown!"
"Not another Earthquake, my brain can't take it!"
"Nice, nice. Trained under the same master, so of course neither of them can crack the other's defense!"
"Wait, hold on. Didn't you say this was a Ground-type grudge match, Martial Uncle? Then what's a Baxcalibur doing out there? That's just not fair!"
Even though this was a battle between a Trainer Master and a member of the Elite Four, there was little real suspense about how it would end.
On one side stood a Ground-type specialist of the Elite Four who had held his position for years, had challenged the Champion's seat more than once, and currently outranked every other Elite Four member in seniority.
On the other side stood a Ground-type Master who, after life had knocked him down hard, had spent years doing little more than lounging at home.
If a younger Mort had once matched Gilbert blow for blow in the Master Tournament, or even beaten him outright, that gap had reversed completely by now. The Gilbert of today, seasoned and sharp, could crush a rusty, worn-down Mort without much trouble.
Looking only at team composition, Mort's odds weren't good to begin with. Even now, his main lineup was built around the same partners who had carried him through the Master Tournament years ago. Gilbert, on the other hand, training for a shot at the Champion's throne, had long since stopped limiting himself to Ground-types alone. Even the old Pokémon that had made his name back in the tournament days had been shuffled down to his second or even third team.
Watching the two of them fight, Nova became even more certain about the path he wanted to take as a Trainer.
Committing to a single specialty early could make it easier to shine in the Master Tournament, where type restrictions were strict. But once a Trainer had mastered one type and set their sights on the Elite Four or the Champion's seat, that same specialty could become a real weakness.
Mort had fallen straight into that trap. After his defeat at the hands of Marty Davison, he had convinced himself the loss meant he and his Pokémon simply weren't good enough, and that he'd never get another shot at redemption.
Gilbert, who had always trained one step behind him, saw things more clearly. If Ground-types were naturally weak against Flying-types, why not raise a few Pokémon specifically to cover that weakness, especially with a rematch against Marty Davison in mind?
Ten years later, Gilbert finally got past Marty Davison, the towering obstacle standing over every Ground-type Master, claimed his seat among the Elite Four, and raised the Layered Peaks Gym's reputation to new heights.
Still, what truly made Nova admire Gilbert wasn't his battling skill or how strong his Pokémon were. It was how smoothly he could talk circles around anyone right after a match.
Nova half suspected Gilbert rehearsed these speeches alone in front of a mirror beforehand.
Once Mort's Garchomp had gone three rounds and finally collapsed from exhaustion, Gilbert began his real performance.
"Wonderful, truly wonderful, Senior Brother! Your Garchomp never disappoints. Do you remember how you felt the day Master handed this Garchomp to you? It's fine if you don't, because I remember exactly how I felt watching it happen.
You were given a Gible with incredible promise. Meanwhile, as the intern, all I got was a Barboach Master fished out of his own bathtub for my first partner.
Sure, I eventually found success and caught a fine Garchomp of my own. But the one Pokémon I've wanted most, my whole life, has always been yours.
You've spent your whole life complaining that I stole everything from you. Did you ever once consider that your life is the one I've envied all along?
Do you have any idea how much Master favored you?
And what did you do with that? You chose to slack off. You chose to walk away. I don't blame you for looking down on your junior brother, but was that ever fair to Master?"