Watching Myst step onto the battlefield, Cynthia couldn't help but sigh.

  Some of it was relief, the tension finally draining from her body, the weight lifting now that she held the cool metal badge in her hand.

  The rest?

  Myst’s eyes caught hers and he smiled.

  Then, in true Myst fashion, he exaggerated a bow and waved like the crowd watching had shown up just for him. He even blew a couple of dramatic kisses towards the crowd, who rumbled humorously at the sight.

  Her cheeks warmed despite herself.

  It was almost infuriating.

  Almost.

  Because no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She gave him a small, exasperated wave.

  Myst froze mid-stride when he saw it, then lit up like a child at a festival. His grin stretching so wide that she could see the flash of his teeth even from across the field.

  Honestly.

  She rolled her eyes and made shooing motions, pointing toward Benkara, who was standing at his side of the field with an expression that hovered somewhere between puzzled and mildly offended. Probably wondering why he, the actual Gym Leader, was being so thoroughly ignored. To be fair, most people entered their first Gym battle at least a little nervous, maybe even a little star struck. Gym Leaders were celebrities, after all.

  Never mind that it was just their first badge, and no one really expected much from them.

  Never mind a lot of them were still standing across from their childhood idols.

  It was still their first.

  That mattered.

  Myst?

  He walked like he was on a leisurely hike through the woods. Like the battle was just a quick detour. He only turned to face Benkara once he was halfway across the field, as though he'd only just remembered why he was there in the first place. Then when he met Benkara in the middle, he opened his mouth to speak.

  Benkara answered something back.

  They exchanged a few quick words. Cynthia strained her ears, trying to make out the words through the low hum of the crowd. But it was all muffled, drowned out by the noise and the distance.

  Still…

  Something felt off.

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes, watching them closely. She couldn't hear their words, but their body language said enough. Benkara raised an eyebrow at something Myst said, then gave a short reply that made Myst blink, visibly confused.

  Myst answered, and Benkara let out a sigh so heavy she could almost hear it from where she sat.

  Then Myst gestured—

  Towards her.

  Benkara followed the motion, and when his gaze landed on her, he rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth and said something just loud enough for her to catch the tail end of it:

  “—is different from you.”

  Cynthia froze, her heart skipping a beat as a cold feeling slid down her spine. Different from her how?

  A dozen answers leapt into her mind, tangling together. So she didn’t notice—

  The way Myst glanced her way. Just a flicker, before he turned back to Benkara.

  He opened his mouth.

  Closed it.

  Opened it again and said something else.

  But Cynthia didn’t even bother trying to understand what he said.

  No.

  Instead her brain paused for a moment, every thought vanishing as she locked onto his expression.

  Unsure.

  Myst was a lot of things.

  Kind.

  Stupid.

  Genuine.

  Her friend.

  But above all that—

  Myst was frustrating.

  Not because of his jokes. Not because of his stupid smile. Not even because of the way his blue eyes darkened whenever someone tried to talk behind her back, like she needed somebody to protect her.

  No. None of those were the frustrating part.

  Those things?

  They were annoying, sure. Quirky? Well, she couldn’t exactly throw stones. Maybe she could, even as loath as she was to admit it, call them charming.

  But that didn’t excuse him, didn’t change how he sometimes simply—

  Didn’t believe in himself.

  It didn’t happen often. It wasn’t that noticeable. But when it did happen? She wanted to strangle him. Her hands tightened on the bar again as she watched Benkara answer with a dismissive shake of his head.

  The coldness slipped deeper into her bones. Benkara let her battle at a higher level.

  He’d given her advice.

  Had spoken to her like it was obvious she was talented. Like it was obvious she could handle a higher level battle. She’d thought that meant he understood, that he’d seen past the fanfare surrounding her name and recognized what she could do, not just who she was. Her fingers drifted to Queenie’s Poké Ball, thumb brushing its smooth surface.

  Benkara’s earlier words replayed in her mind.

  “You Carolina’s granddaughter?”

  It was stupid, maybe she was just overthinking. He could have a million reasons for being so dismissive with Myst.

  But…

  Now she was remembering what being a generational Gym Leader really meant. What it meant to be part of the Natane clan, and what it meant for her to be a Shriona. She stood still, one hand resting on the railing—

  And didn’t notice how it slowly turned white.

  ….

  For what felt like minutes, Cynthia just stared at the field, her thoughts blazing. Her eyes locked onto Benkara, like if she watched him long enough, closely enough, his movements might give something away.

  But they didn’t.

  Of course not.

  Cynthia wasn’t some kind of empath, after all… not that it stopped her from scanning him anyway. Taking in the easy confidence in his stride as he walked over to a nearby table and picked up a couple of Poké Balls. Noticing the way his face slipped back into that same unreadable mask he’d worn while facing the challenger before her.

  So, when the referee stepped onto the field, she felt it.

  “On our left we have Gym Leader Benkara Natane of Eterna city.”

  The coldness?

  It gave away.

  Gave away to something hot.

  Myst stepped forward and reached for a Poké Ball.

  Cynthia’s eyes stayed locked on Benkara. She didn’t know exactly what Myst had asked. Didn’t know why Benkara had reacted like that.

  “On our right we have our challenger, Myst—”

  But she did know one thing. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, voice echoing through the arena:

  “MYST! YOU SMASH HIM, OKAY? DON’T YOU DARE HOLD BACK!”

  Myst froze mid-step, and Cynthia felt her heart give a little prick…

  Because when Myst turned toward her—

  He wasn’t smiling.

  ……….

  “By the challenger’s request, this will be a two-on-three battle.”

  Even though she didn’t regret it, really, Cynthia still had to force herself not to curl into a fetal position as the referee continued after her minor interruption.

  “The challenger has registered two Pokémon.”

  Just because she’d screamed at the top of her lungs, like, really screamed, and made everyone turn to look, didn’t necessarily mean they knew it was her.

  Right?

  “As compensation, the challenger is granted one switch.”

  And really, even if people did notice, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Cheering on your friends was a normal, completely fine, totally acceptable thing to do.

  Totally.

  Acceptable.

  “The Gym Leader will have none. The battle will be at a one-badge level.”

  Honestly, even if they had realized it was her, it wasn’t like anybody had recorded—

  Her gaze locked on a camera.

  A very professional-looking one, pointed directly at the battlefield.

  And through it, directly at the stands.

  “May both trainers release their first Pokémon?”

  Shit.

  For a moment, Cynthia stared blankly into the lens. So blankly, in fact, that she almost missed Benkara speaking, his voice cracking over the speakers.

  “You ready?”

  Myst didn’t answer, he just threw his Poké Ball. A burst of red light, and Ralts stood on the battlefield.

  The crowd, buzzing with low murmurs, paused at once. Her small form, already striking, was made even more noticeable by the glint of her blue cap. Ralts were rare Pokémon, but because of their strength and looks, they were still famous. Famous enough that a crowd willing to show up for early-season Gym matches could recognize what that blue meant.

  Shiny.

  Ralts looked around, visibly thrilled—

  —for all of two seconds.

  Then she stilled.

  She glanced behind her, toward Myst and stood there for a moment, just looking at her trainer.

  Cynthia didn’t know why, but the hairs on her arm rose as Ralts tilted her head slightly… and then, slowly, mechanically, turned back toward Benkara. Her eyes hidden beneath her cap.

  Benkara raised an eyebrow, then straightened, his expression shifting subtly as he took in Ralts.

  “Well then,” Benkara muttered, straightening and reaching for his own Poké Ball, “guess you are.”

  He tossed it.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Let’s show him flowers have thorns, Budew!”

  With a flash of red, the small Grass-type landed on the field with a determined cry.

  For a moment the two Pokemon took in each other, but before anything could happen the referee nodded, raised his hand one last time, and—

  “Let the battle begin!”

  Cynthia tensed.

  And tensed.

  And kept tensing.

  Ten seconds passed. Nothing happened.

  She let herself breathe. Mostly because still nothing was happening.

  Benkara blinked. “You’re not going to take the first move?”

  Myst tilted his head, as if considering the question for the first time. Then he shrugged. “Why would I?”

  Benkara frowned. “Excuse me?”

  Myst continued, calm as ever. “I saw you battle that other guy, the one before Cynthia. If you’re planning to use Pokémon at that level, with that kind of direction…” He tilted his head the other way. “Then, like I told you, that’s the only move you’re gonna be allowed to make…” He paused for a moment, before opening his mouth, his words taking on a slightly biting tone, “No offense, of course.”

  Benkara’s frown deepened. “I told you, comparing yourself to somebody like—” He cut himself off when he noticed Myst just rolling his eyes, “Ok, I see you are not listening. Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll just start. Budew—”

  The little grass-poison type looked up—

  “Poison Sting!”

  — and let out a cry as its Poison-type energy flowed through its body, only using half a second to form a dozen small needles.

  Then, in a split second, they launched forward, aiming towards Ralts.

  Cynthia blinked at their speed and amount. Or more accurately, the lack of both.

  “Stop it.” Myst’s voice rang out.

  It was flat.

  Not that he needed to say anything, Ralts had already raised a hand, its eyes glowing purple.

  And the needles—

  Froze.

  From a hundred to zero, they just stopped, stuck midair, like physics had given up.

  Huh.

  In response to the manhandling of its attack Budew cried out, its small body trembling with the effort of trying to will the attack forward.

  It didn’t matter.

  The needles remained suspended, harmless in the air. Ralts didn’t even blink, she held her pose a few more seconds… Then flicked her wrist. The needles veered sharply and buried themselves in the dirt, neatly, as if placed there by hand.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  During her battle, Cynthia could barely think over the roar of the crowd, the chaos of moves slamming back and forth. The crowd cheering after every clash.

  Now?

  She could even hear the soft hum of type energy dissolving.

  Benkara’s eyes flickered towards the ground, at the type energy having formed them running out of steam. His mouth still moved though.

  “Absor—”

  Ralts didn’t let Budew even think about following that command.

  She simply vanished, then reappeared, right in front of Budew, her hand tapping gently against its forehead.

  Hypnosis.

  It didn’t make a sound, but Cynthia could see it, the gentle waves of psychic energy radiating outward. Budew staggered, eyes blinking slowly as the half-formed Absorb it had tried to conjure fizzling into nothing.

  “Shake it off—Worry Seed, on yourself!” Benkara snapped, a sudden urgency in his voice.

  Cynthia wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, her eyes were fixed on Ralts.

  She knew how Rei fought, brutal, fast, and wild, with instinct guiding her every move. The bunny loved battle like it was a game and never looked happier than when she was smashing her ears into someone’s face.

  If Myst had been any other trainer she would imagine Ralts would fight a similar way. Most trainers operated like that, with a single real style, a single main typing. It made things easier; you could train your Pokémon together, you could have Pokémon teach moves to each other, making your entire team power up faster.

  She didn’t know why she imagined Myst would be similar.

  Because Ralts?

  Wild was the furthest thing from her opening move.

  No, this was controlled.

  Almost surgical.

  Budew forced itself upright and flooded itself with Grass-type energy, forming a single seed and swallowing it down.

  It didn’t matter.

  Ralts didn’t wait.

  Another teleport, this time behind.

  Distracted by the effort of using Worry Seed to shake of the Hypnosis the Grass-type didn’t notice.

  “Behind you!”

  Didn’t have time to notice.

  Ralts entire body flared a brilliant purple.

  Confusion.

  A psychic field exploded around Budew, its body outlined in blinding violet as it lifted helplessly off the ground.

  Budew screamed.

  “Stun Spore!” Benkara’s voice cracked with panic.

  Cynthia felt her chest clench. Not because she feared for Ralts or thought Myst would somehow lose. But because—

  Ralts could multitask.

  Disgustingly well.

  Before the spores had time to spread another purple shimmer surrounded them, Confusion moulded into a barrier.

  Then it shrunk.

  The cloud collapsed inward, drawn to Budew like a vacuum.

  Cynthia winced as the yellow spores coated its body in a suffocating film, so thick she couldn’t even see its face anymore.

  And Ralts still hadn’t taken a single step.

  “Finish it please.”

  Ralts nodded and raised her other hand. A deep purple ball of energy began to gather, crackling as Budew struggled helplessly in the air, writhing against the crushing grip of Psychic-type power.

  Cynthia already knew it wouldn’t be able to break free. She could see it, the disturbance in the green Grass-type energy Budew tried to form giving it away.

  Budew was confused.

  “Ralts,” Ralts said, her voice cold and regal, like an empress passing judgment.

  A spiraling beam of Psychic energy burst from her palm, crashing toward’s Budew with merciless precision.

  Psybeam.

  “I retire Budew!” Benkara didn’t hesitate more than a second. A flash of red light snatched Budew from Ralts’ grasp just before Psybeam could land.

  Silence stretched and even the referee seemed at a loss, uncertain how to respond to a battle like that.

  Cynthia understood why. Even when a Pokémon was outmatched, it could usually do something. Get off a move, land a glancing blow, something.

  Anything.

  But this?

  This was domination. A clear mismatch, as one-sided as a fight ending in a single blow.

  If Ralts had been a more physical Pokémon, one who favored raw power over control, it might have even been dangerous.

  Benkara stood still for a few seconds, eyes downcast toward his side, where three more Poké Balls rested. One held another Pokémon probably around Budew’s level.

  The other two? His Aces.

  One standard and the other a contingency, reserved for if Myst swept through his team. Benkara reached for the second Poké Ball on his belt… then hesitated.

  His hand moved back.

  Just one slot.

  “Give it all you’ve got—”

  He flicked his wrist.

  “Turtwig!”

  A green turtle materialized onto the field, leaves rustling in a phantom breeze. This time, Benkara didn’t offer Myst the luxury of a moment’s reprieve. The instant Ralts locked eyes with Turtwig, Benkara opened his mouth.

  “Razor Leaf!”

  Turtwig didn’t hesitate. It threw its head forward, launching half a dozen razor-sharp leaves from its back. They cut through the air with lethal speed, closing the distance between the two Pokémon in an instant.

  Ralts didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t raise a hand.

  She simply vanished, letting the leaves tear through the place she stood a moment prior.

  Teleport.

  In the blink of an eye, she was next to Turtwig.

  The Grass-type’s instincts kicked in before Benkara could even issue a warning. The moment Ralts feet touched the ground its head snapped towards her, and its body flared white as it launched forward.

  Tackle.

  A fast reaction.

  It was too slow.

  Ralts opened her mouth—

  And s???????????????p?????????o????????????????????k?????????e???????????.

  A word that was too beautiful. Too enchanting. Too alien.

  Disarming voice.

  Turtwig didn’t stumble.

  It crashed.

  Its legs lost all strength, its momentum sending it tumbling past Ralts like a white rolling boulder.

  Without hesitation, Ralts seized the opportunity. She spun gracefully, raised a hand—

  The ground split beneath Turtwig as a pulse of telekinetic energy surged. The Grass-type was forced to the earth, unable to rise as Confusion pressed down like an invisible weight, pinning it in place.

  Turtwig moaned in pain but slowly still managed to get to its legs. For a moment, it even looked like it would even be able to move, but instead, it could only stand there, legs wobbling as it fought against the telekinetic force.

  Like Budew, it was bound, unable to move.

  Different from how that had been though, Cynthia could see Ralts’ hand trembling; the strain from holding down Turtwig obviously much greater than when she had trapped Budew. With no other choice, Ralts slowly raised her other hand, giving up on charging another Psybeam and focusing on maintaining the force.

  The battle entered a stalemate. Ralts was unable to charge another attack, her energy drained by maintaining Confusion. Turtwig, for its part, was using every ounce of its strength just to stay upright.

  A casual observer might think this favoured nobody.

  Cynthia wasn’t casual.

  The situation might look equal, but it was really on Benkara and Turtwig to do something. Because while Ralts may have been burning through her energy reserves, she was still the one attacking. Every second Turtwig remained under Confusion's grip was another second it took damage. More than that, once Confusion triggered its secondary effect, once Turtwig became confused and couldn’t fight back properly, the battle would be over instantly.

  So she wasn’t surprised when Benkara opened his mouth.

  “Use B—”

  She was surprised when he almost broke the rules. Of course, he caught himself before finishing the sentence. While Normal-type moves like Tackle were accepted, not really being considered coverage, Bite would be a clear violation.

  The fact he almost commanded Turtwig to use it anyway said everything about the pressure Ralts and Myst were putting on him.

  It also meant he was probably out of options.

  Still, it spoke to how good Benkara was that he only used a split second to try something else.

  “You need to disturb their concentration, stop resisting and focus!” Benkara barked.

  Turtwig narrowed its eyes but listened. Even while every instinct in its body probably screamed at it, it stopped resisting the telekinetic force, letting its body slam into the ground. It used the freed-up focus to instead summon Grass-type energy.

  It would be the last thing it ever did.

  “Disrupt it first.”

  Ralts instantly dropped Confusion.

  Turtwig blinked in surprise as the pressure vanished, dragging its body upright instinctively.

  A moment wasted.

  Just long enough.

  Ralts opened her mouth—

  And s???????????????p?????????o????????????????????k?????????e???????????.

  Disarming Voice.

  This time, Cynthia could see it. Pinkish waves of noise rippled outward, the Fairy-type move washing Turtwig like a wave, seemingly doing nothing.

  Then its effect showed.

  The Grass-type energy Turtwig had been gathering rebounded violently, and the Tiny Leaf Pokémon groaned in pain as it tried to wrestle back control. To its credit, for a moment, it seemed like Turtwig might regain control, Cynthia saw its muscles tighten, its breath steady—

  But it didn’t.

  It let out a cry—

  And then got blasted in the face by a Psybeam. The purple spiral smashed into the grassy turtle, sending it flying.

  When it landed, it didn’t get up.

  “Turtwig is unable to battle, may the Gym leader send out his last Pokémon!”

  The crowd cheered this time. Cynthia wanted to join them, but she didn’t. Instead her eyes roamed over the battlefield, locking onto Ralts. Compared to the first battle, where she’d looked untouched, this one had clearly taken a toll. She hadn’t been hit, but the strain of consecutive fights, all that Psychic-type energy spent…

  For all that type energy sometimes seemed endless, you could still exhaust it, training showed you that. So right now?

  Running out wasn’t impossible.

  Her eyes moved back to Benkara, noting how he reached for the fourth ball on his belt, how his expression had shifted.

  Through the battle it had evolved.

  From dismissive.

  To relaxed.

  Now?

  He looked completely serious.

  A Poke Ball expanded.

  “Roselia, it’s your turn.”

  A familiar Pokémon materialized onto the field, and Cynthia could tell instantly, this was the Pokémon meant to stop a sweep.

  Her eyes flicked to Myst, then back to Ralts.

  Ralts looked tired.

  She’d already fought twice.

  But honestly?

  “Roselia—"

  “Ralts—"

  Cynthia couldn’t imagine her losing.

  “Spray it down!”

  “Let’s put on a show!”

  At their trainers’ respective commands, both Pokémon acted at once. Roselia raised a hand, launching countless needle-like shards of Poison-type energy, straight toward Ralts.

  Was it aimed at the right Ralts?

  That was another question.

  Double Team filled the arena. In an instant, Ralts split into a crowd of mirror images, surrounding the field.

  Poison Sting shot through the air—

  —and passed cleanly through an illusion.

  Roselia lowered its hand, glancing around as it cracked open one eye, scanning for any clone that looked off.

  “I guess I underestimated you,” Benkara began, his eyes sweeping the field.

  Myst grinned in response.

  “You were right, you probably could’ve taken on my second—”

  Every single Ralts copy grinned with him.

  “—badge team.”

  Myst slowly began to raise a finger to his lips.

  “Just understand I had nothing against”

  Every Ralts raised a hand to their lips.

  “—you, just can’t—”

  Benkara didn’t get to finish.

  In perfect sync, all the Ralts and Myst, shushed him. A soft, mocking chorus, like they were telling him to just shut up and battle.

  Cynthia resisted the urge to face palm… mostly because she was too busy grinning.

  Honestly.

  Benkara stared blankly at Myst, but he didn’t really get mad. Instead, he shook his head, a wry smile on his lips.

  “I guess I deserved that one,” he said, before straightening up. “Well, if it’s a battle you want, then a battle you are going to get. Roselia, cover the area!”

  Roselia threw both hands to the side, and green powder flowed out of its petals.

  Sleep powder

  “Contain it!”

  Ralts didn’t let it cover the field. Every clone raised a hand, Confusion instantly gathering in the air. Two shimmering barriers formed, collecting the drifting powder and slowly compressing it.

  But while the clones had raised their hands—

  “Clone six a clock!” Benkara called out.

  —it didn’t mean their eyes glowed with the telltale shine of Type energy.

  Roselia spun around and flicked a single hand upward, the fallen leaves on the ground following its motion.

  Magical Leaf

  For a split second, the glowing leaves hovered in the air, giving Ralts just enough time to slam the compressed Sleep Powder into the dirt, burying it.

  Then countless leaves, radiant with green energy, homed in on the small Psychic-type.

  Cynthia was honestly surprised when Ralts still managed to vanish a split second before the leaves smashed into her body.

  Roselia apparently wasn’t.

  The leaves curved sharply in the air, tracking their target without pause. They twisted toward the spot where Ralts reappeared, her Double Team flickering out, unable to maintain focus any longer.

  Still, Ralts had bought herself a second. She opened her mouth again and s????????????????p?????????????o??????????k????????e?????????????????????.

  Pink waves pulsed out as she spoke, a single, ringing word. The Disarming Voice cut through the air, aimed to disrupt Roselia’s concentration just like it had with Turtwig.

  It almost worked.

  Roselia staggered slightly as the sound hit her, but that was all.

  Cynthia saw Myst’s eyes narrow, catching the same realization she had the moment Ralts attacked: Roselia’s Poison typing had dulled the impact of the Fairy-type move, letting her push through it.

  Which meant—

  Ralts cried out as Magical Leaf struck home. The glowing leaves whipped forward in a spiraling arc, each one like a tiny blade slicing through the air and slashing into Ralts’s side.

  “Get out!” Myst called.

  Ralts grunted, but still obeyed and she vanished.

  It just didn’t help much, as before Ralts could even think about counterattacking, the countless emerald dagger-like leaves had already zoomed across the field, tracking her down like sharks sensing blood.

  Ralts teleported again, just in time.

  Cynthia frowned as she watched Ralts appear and vanish, teleporting from spot to spot as she tried to avoid the storm of Magical Leaf.

  It wasn’t sustainable. Just like the previous situation where Turtwig getting pressured by Confusion, this situation had a similar problem. While Ralts might not have been taking heavy damage, she was burning through far more energy than Roselia. Eventually, she’d run out, and if that happened, there was no way she could win by relying on Fairy-type moves alone.

  Apparently, Myst had realized the same.

  “Ralts, get close!” He commanded.

  Magical Leaves swept by Ralts’ location, just for her to vanish—

  And then reappear, inches away from Roselia.

  Ralts raised a hand.

  Roselia reacted instantly. She snapped one arm upward, firing a cluster of poisoned needles, straight at Ralts, realizing guiding Magical Leaf wouldn’t be fast enough.

  For the first time, Poison Sting hit.

  The needles struck home with a sickening precision, sinking deep into Ralts’s side.

  A sharp, ragged cry tore through the air, her small body jerking back as she nearly collapsed. Toxic energy lanced through her Aura, bright and violent, and Cynthia could feel it just from watching.

  Ralts was scared.

  She took a step back, desperately covering herself with her arms, and for a moment Cynthia thought the battle would end just like that.

  Myst’s voice tore through the silence.

  “HYPNOSIS!”

  Ralts’s eyes snapped open, glowing with a sudden, searing—

  Blue.

  The same shade as Myst’s. And for a heartbeat, Cynthia could almost see it: the connection between trainer and Pokémon, burning bright and focused.

  Ralts didn’t fall.

  No.

  She stared.

  Straight at Roselia.

  And the world went still.

  “Ignore it!” Benkara’s voice rang out.

  Too late.

  Roselia's hand, the one that had been sending out a barrage of Poison Sting's slowly fell to its side.

  It took half a step forward.

  Staggered

  And then crumpled to the ground, already deeply asleep.

  Ralts slowly made over to her opponent.

  She raised one trembling hand.

  A Psybeam began to form, light gathering in her palm.

  The crowd erupted into cheers.

  And this time?

  Cynthia cheered with it.