"Good grief... not again!"
Even Chief Sky, whose administrative composure was usually ironclad, couldn't help but sputter a rare profanity.
"Gardevoir, anchor the frame! Hold the perimeter!"
Gardevoir's expression turned extraordinarily grim as it concentrated its residual mental reserves, reinforcing the cracked telekinetic dome. A second later, an even more blinding, apocalyptic white light obliterated the airspace, accompanied by a cascading wall of pulverized stone dust and the deafening, world-shaking acoustic shockwaves of the dual impact.
The sheer concussive feedback slammed relentlessly against the psychic shield, embedding a dense network of deep, spiderwebbed fractures across the glowing violet barrier.
Fortunately, the Grandmaster's anchor held.
As the catastrophic shockwaves slowly decayed, the diagnostic readouts confirmed that both high-order titans had been simultaneously knocked out by the mutual kinetic feedback.
Gyarados lay flat across the broken turf, a significant portion of its heavy, crimson scales completely torn away, leaving deep lacerations that wept fluid into the dirt. Its massive leviathan framework was riddled with severe thermal burns, with small, stubborn pockets of black-and-crimson infernal fire still aggressively consuming its outer hide as its muscles underwent involuntary, post-combat spasms.
Moltres's condition was equally devastating. The legendary avian had been stripped of nearly its entire plumage, its bare, scorched skin exposed to the cold rain. Its massive wings were pinned beneath its torso at unnatural angles, clearly fractured by the crushing weight of the final Aqua Tail. It was breathing in shallow, raspy gasps, its biological engine operating on the absolute brink of total collapse.
"Leader Feng Che... here is your official verification token," Aaron muttered stiffly. Given that his primary anchor was entirely incapacitated and his active reserves were completely spent, the automated tournament array logged a definitive victory for the challenger, who still commanded two pristine, unused assets on his belt.
Aaron retrieved his fallen bird and exited the gate without another word. Feng Che quietly recalled his red sea dragon, stepping onto the central transport platform to await his transition to the final gate.
"Leader Feng Che, priority directives have just been issued from Chief Sky's executive office," the escort officer explained nervously as he stabilized the hover-pod. "Due to the extreme structural degradation sustained by the secondary courts, your final promotional match has been officially upgraded to the Grand Coliseum."
"That sector is a restricted, high-density battlefield engineered explicitly to sustain unrestricted, six-versus-six clashes between active Champions."
The hover-pod accelerated through the reinforced subterranean transit tubes, launching toward the primary stadium complex.
The Grand Coliseum
Concurrently, Elite Zera was being escorted into the ancient, open-air expanse of the Grand Coliseum.
The stadium floor was composed entirely of interlocking slabs of ancient, deep-grey Qingyu Granite—a rare, geologically dense mineral formation that radiated a weathered, historic gravity. The molecular density of Qingyu Granite was so extreme that even a maximum-output Hyper Beam delivered by an alpha-tier Gyarados would fail to shatter its surface, making it the ultimate canvas for high-tier destructive testing.
"The challenger arriving today commands a thoroughly distinct, heavy elemental frequency," Zera murmured, his sharp golden irises locking onto the massive iron gates of the opposing tunnel. "My skin can track his weight... I can taste his strength from here."
"Magnificent... it has been far too long since the scheduling board handed me a proper, high-tier combatant."
Zera unhinged his jaw, displaying a row of jagged, serrated, shark-like teeth as his tongue slowly traced his dry, cracked lips.
"Bring me high-purity water and fresh rations immediately. The nutrient pastes provided inside the central interrogation wings taste like garbage."
Zera directed a fiercely predatory glare at the accompanying logistics clerks. Caught within his tracking field, the staff stiffened instantly, their instincts screaming that they were currently being scrutinized by a feral, apex dragon.
"Right away, Elite Zera! We'll retrieve your requested allocations immediately!" the clerk stammered, scrambling toward the break rooms.
Zera's career track within the World League was uniquely brutal; he was tasked with managing the Primordial Fortress—the maximum-security sector housing the world's most dangerous transnational criminals and syndicates. He had spent the previous forty-eight hours conducting the neural breakdown of Hanzo Shura and the captured Poacher generals. Throughout the continuous interrogations, the recurring variable spoken by every broken criminal was the name Feng Che—the singular force who had dismantled their network.
"I want to see exactly what kind of mechanical tier a boy needs to command to single-handedly break a warlord like King Kai," Zera growled, rolling his shoulders as his joints popped in rapid-fire successions like exploding firecrackers.
"The environmental parameters are flawless today."
"The ambient sunlight is optimal for sustained draconic lung-compression."
"The air humidity metrics are perfectly balanced."
Zera snatched the delivered rations, devouring the high-calorie proteins within seconds with feral efficiency.
A few minutes later, Feng Che emerged from the opposing tunnel. His minor delay was entirely due to a navigation error committed by the transport clerk, who had inadvertently routed his pod through a locked security checkpoint.
"Hey, brat! So you're the entity challenging my gate today?" Zera called out, his voice booming across the stone field. "Your file is exceptionally popular across my cell blocks. You've handed my wardens a massive influx of premium high-tier targets."
Feng Che remained silent, his brow furrowing slightly as he analyzed the raw, uncontrolled aggression radiating off the proctor.
"I trust your team can maintain a decent velocity matrix. Don't disappoint me."
Zera unclipped a standard, heavy iron capsule, launching it onto the stone floor to deploy a massive Kommo-o—the pseudo-legendary dragon sovereign of the Alola region.
The dragon was heavily sheathed in a natural, overlapping coat of thick, polished, metallic armor-scales. Its primary hide was a deep, weathered slate-grey, punctuated by two distinct, needle-sharp horn protrusions jutting from the flanks of its lower jaw line. Its cranial crown was draped in an intricate, interlocking array of brilliant golden scales. Standing perfectly erect on its massive lower limbs, its elongated tail and upper arms boasted an incredible concentration of heavy, loose-fitting plates.
The moment a Kommo-o registered an encroaching entity within its tracking radius, it would systematically vibrate its tail armor, unleashing a sharp, metallic clinking sound to signal its absolute dominance over the ecosystem.
A Kommo-o's signature mechanical execution relied on its devastating upper torque; a single, maximum-velocity Sky Uppercut delivered from its lower stance possessed enough raw kinetic energy to launch a heavy target into the high clouds, permanently altering the surrounding geography through the sheer impact shockwaves.
This specific specimen boasted an exceptionally brilliant, high-purity gleam across its armor plates, every stride it took accompanied by the rhythmic, metallic clink-clank of its scales grinding together.
"Let's see how you handle the shifting sands. Go, Flygon!"
Feng Che tossed his luxury ball, releasing his Flygon onto the pristine granite.
The desert dragon vibrated its translucent, ruby-tinted wings with immense vigor, its large eyes locking onto the armored giant as its very presence triggered an instantaneous, localized Sandstream that scattered fine quartz grains across the stone blocks.
"Let us open the throttles completely, Kommo-o! Activate the ancient matrix—Bulk Up + Dragon Dance + Swords Dance!" Zera bellowed.
His eyes flared with a wild, feral intensity as an immense, visible column of pure, deep-purple Dragon Aura erupted from his chest, saturating the field.
The Draconic Overdrive
"Zera has entered his combat-frenzy mode again," Chief Sky murmured from the VIP viewing deck, letting out a long, weary sigh.
"The last time his nervous system hit this state of hyper-excitation, he manually demolished half of the League's central administrative wing. It required the personal, material intervention of his mentor, Lord Tian, to safely suppress his aura and confine him to the prison sector."
"Ensure your parameters are primed, Gardevoir. The exact millisecond Zera's psychological boundaries collapse into total madness, you will manually freeze his cognitive loop and abort the match," the old leader instructed gravely.
Down on the granite floor, Zera's raw Dragon Command Force systematically flooded into Kommo-o's nervous system.
The pseudo-legendary's muscle groups swelled exponentially, its tissue blocks bulging beneath its armor plates as it initiated a strange, rapid-fire martial choreography. Its heavy scales vibrated against each other, emitting a sharp, rhythmic, deafening hiss-shuck frequency that echoed through the stadium rafters.
Saturated by the raw influx of its master's internal aura, this Kommo-o had effectively converted into a biological berserker—an asset that completely suppressed its own pain receptors, its cognitive functions narrowed entirely to absolute, unrestricted slaughter.
"This is the ultimate secret methodology preserved within the ancient Dragon Clans," Chief Sky explained smoothly, watching the transformation. "It permits a human commander to directly bridge his internal energy into the biological core of a Dragon-type."
"This neural synchronization is the precise reason Zera's Kommo-o can collapse multiple high-tier stat-amplification moves—Bulk Up, Dragon Dance, and Swords Dance—into a singular, continuous execution window. This beast represents the absolute apex of his active roster."
Faced with the terrifying aura of the berserker, Flygon remained completely unmoved. It calmly fanned its wings, using its tail to direct the expanding waves of a shifting Sand Tomb across the granite blocks.
Ever since it had been integrated into Feng Che's specialized stable, Flygon had spent every single training cycle exposed to the crushing, high-order divine presences of Mewtwo, Dark Dialga, and Regidrago. Its nervous system had long since been conditioned to disregard high-volume pressure; compared to the terrifying majesty of those primordial deities, the aura rolling off this Kommo-o was nothing but a minor draft.
"Exceptional composure... to think a common desert flyer could remain entirely unfazed by my partner's Sovereign Pressure," Zera laughed manically, nodding in savage appreciation.
"Kommo-o, Mach Punch! Shatter its alignment!"
Having finalized its continuous amplification cycle, the armored dragon snapped its eyes open, its pupils completely washed out by a feral golden light. It braced its heavy hind legs and exploded forward, transforming into a blinding, golden-grey streak of light as it threw a massive, sandbag-sized fist straight toward Flygon's skull.
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