Enzo slept like shit.
Not because the bed was bad. That would have at least given him something honest to blame. Steven's guest wing remained perfect in every way a rich man's guest wing could be. The mattress adjusted to his weight. The air stayed cool without ever becoming cold. The windows darkened before the morning sun could touch his face, and even the lock had started recognizing his hand before he fully reached for the panel.
None of it helped.
He kept waking up.
Not fully, not violently, and not with any clear nightmare worth remembering. Just small, irritating returns to consciousness that left him staring at the ceiling with the unpleasant certainty that something had been interrupted. Once, he woke with his fingers clenched around the edge of the blanket. Another time, his eyes opened toward the dark window, and for half a second, he thought the glass looked too deep, as if there was more night inside it than outside it.
That passed quickly.
The feeling behind his eyes did not.
It was not pain. Not exactly. More like pressure. A dull presence under the skull, silent enough to be ignored and persistent enough to make ignoring it feel like a mistake.
Enzo hated vague problems.
Vague problems could not be stabbed, bribed, blackmailed, recruited, bought, trained, or fed to Ronnie's Steelix.
So he did the next best thing.
He got out of bed before the room had finished pretending it was morning, showered, dressed, and forced himself to look like someone who had slept. The mirror in the bathroom showed him a young man with calm eyes, controlled hair, and no visible trace of exhaustion. It was not accurate, but it was acceptable.
By the time Enzo reached the breakfast room, Steven was already sitting at the table with coffee, a folded newspaper, and the face of a man who had slept three hours but was wealthy enough to make it look like a lifestyle choice.
Steven looked up, and his expression brightened at once.
Not with concern.
With opportunity.
Steven set his cup down with exaggerated care. "Oh, Good morning, Enzo."
Enzo stopped beside the chair opposite him. "Good morning."
Steven smiled like a man who had just found a rare stone on the floor. "You look terrible."
Enzo sat down and reached for the coffee waiting on his side of the table. "I look normal."
Steven lifted his cup again, still smiling. "You look like someone spent the night counting Wooloo and losing track every time."
Enzo took a slow drink before answering. "Lately, I have been having bad sleep."
Steven's smile widened over the rim of his cup. "So, you are nervous."
Enzo lowered the cup. "No."
Steven leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying every second. "You are definitely nervous."
Enzo looked at him across the table. "If I were nervous, Steven, I would not come down here and give you the satisfaction of noticing."
Steven considered the answer with the expression of a man examining a mineral sample that might or might not be valuable. "A fair argument. Not a convincing one, but fair."
Enzo rested one elbow on the table. "You are enjoying this too much."
Steven did not even try to deny it. "Of course I am. Yesterday, you walked into a Hoenn League meeting, manipulated the Champion into liking you, cornered Glacia with refugees and public infrastructure, and bought a mountain. Today, for once, someone else gets to make you uncomfortable."
Enzo's expression remained flat. "She does not make me uncomfortable."
Steven smiled harder.
Enzo looked at him over the rim of his cup. "If you say nervous again, I will steal every rock in this house."
Steven immediately stopped smiling.
Steven placed one hand protectively near his cup, as if the threat had extended to everything precious in the room. "That was uncalled for."
Enzo took another drink. "It was precise."
The amusement lasted a few more seconds before Steven's expression settled into something more serious. He pushed the newspaper aside and turned a small tablet toward Enzo. The screen showed a League assessment facility near the Lilycove coastline, with several restricted areas marked in pale blue.
Steven tapped one of the marked zones. "Glacia requested a closed evaluation. No media, no public observers, no League gossip circling the field. Just her people, a few authorized staff."
Enzo studied the map. "Does she usually test people like this?"
Steven folded his hands loosely on the table. "She usually does whatever she thinks is necessary and then makes everyone else realize they should have expected it."
Enzo's eyes stayed on the facility layout. "That sounds inefficient."
Steven corrected him immediately. "That sounds like Glacia. And before you make that face, understand something. She does not care whether you can impress a crowd. She watched you do that yesterday. She does not care whether you can battle either. Your record is public enough."
Enzo looked up from the tablet. "Then she wants to know if I am safe."
Steven was quiet for a moment.
Then Steven nodded. "Yes. That is probably the closest version."
The answer was too honest to be casual.
Steven's voice dropped slightly. "She is not asking whether you can help Hoenn. She already knows you can. She is asking whether Hoenn can survive being helped by you."
That was a better question than most people asked.
Enzo did not say that.
His TR Device vibrated once on the table, then again, then again. Steven looked down at it.
Steven tilted his head toward the device. "Your city?"
Enzo picked it up. "It is not a city yet."
Anna's message was first.
Initial entrance secured. No expansion performed. Basic interior mapping started only from the first chamber. Ventilation unknown. Water source marked but untested. Meowth has complained twelve times.
Enzo's mouth twitched.
Proton followed.
Perimeter stable. Material personnel are divided into groups of five. Xenon coordinates movement and task discipline. Xedron is marking blind spots, approach routes, and potential observation points. Jessie is irritated but cooperative. James is cooperative after corrections. No external contact.
Ronnie's message came last.
Boss, if Steelix carefully widens the entrance, does that count as construction or as helping?
Enzo stared at the message long enough for Steven to lean slightly forward.
Steven blinked. "Should I ask?"
Enzo did not look up. "No."
He typed back quickly.
Anna: You have logistical authority until I return. No expansion without a structural survey. No one enters deeper sections without two escorts and an exit marker.
Proton: Security authority remains yours. Keep groups small. Nobody approaches the site without clearance. Xedron's marks are to be treated as provisional perimeter data.
Ronnie: If Anna and Proton both said no, the answer is no.
Then Enzo put the device away.
Steven finished the rest of his coffee before heading for the door. "Come on. If we are late, Glacia will assume it was intentional and test you harder."
The assessment facility did not look like a place built for spectators.
That was the first thing Enzo liked about it.
It sat on high ground near Lilycove's coastline, far enough from the city to avoid curious crowds and close enough to the sea that the air smelled of salt, wet stone, and warm wind. There were no banners, no public stands, no decorative League nonsense. The building was pale, rectangular, reinforced, and deeply unromantic. Several training yards spread behind it in controlled layers: obstacle structures, mock streets, emergency barriers, water channels, low walls, elevated platforms, and old damage marks from exercises that had clearly gone badly before being repaired.
This was not a Gym arena.
Steven's car stopped outside the main gate. The guards recognized Steven first, then Enzo, and the recognition on their faces was much more contained than the public version in Mauville. League personnel were trained to stare less obviously.
They still stared.
Steven stepped out first and adjusted his jacket while looking toward the main building. "I can only go as far as the reception. Glacia's orders."
Enzo got out after him. "She told you to wait outside?"
Steven nodded toward the entrance. "She told me that if I walked you all the way in, she would consider it interference."
Enzo looked at the building. "Well, it is what it is..."
Steven's mouth curved slightly. "Try not to make her hate you too much. I would like this to be finished before lunch."
Enzo smoothed his sleeve. "Your concern is touching."
Steven opened the facility door for him. "My concern is practical. Glacia, annoyed and hungry, is worse than Glacia only annoyed."
Enzo stepped past him. "Thank you for the ride."
Steven gave him a slightly surprised look, as if he had not expected simple politeness at that exact moment. Then he nodded.
Steven's voice softened by a fraction. "Good luck. Don't be nervous."
Enzo gave him a flat look.
Steven lifted both hands. "Fine. I will wait."
Enzo left him there before Steven could enjoy himself further.
The reception area was quiet, clean, and colder than it needed to be. Polished floors, pale walls, a League emblem behind the front desk, and two staff members waiting near the terminal. One was a young woman with soft brown hair tied neatly behind her head. She had the alert posture of someone new to an important position, trying very hard to look more experienced than she was. The other was a man in his forties with a supervisor badge, narrow eyes, and the unpleasant confidence of someone who enjoyed having a small amount of authority over smaller people.
The young woman saw Enzo first.
Her eyes widened before she caught herself.
The young woman straightened so quickly that the tablet in her hands almost slipped. "Mr. Vance, good morning. Elite Four Glacia is expecting you. I just need to confirm your registration, and then I will escort you to the assessment chamber."
The man beside her clicked his tongue. "For Arceus' sake, Clara. Do not stutter in front of guests. How many times do I need to tell you? You look like an idiot when you panic."
The girl froze.
The words were not loud enough to fill the room, but they were sharp enough to cut the air. Clara's fingers tightened around the tablet. She forced a nervous smile toward Enzo, cheeks reddening with humiliation.
Clara lowered her gaze to the screen. "I'm sorry, sir. It will only take a moment."
The supervisor leaned over her shoulder. "It would take half a moment if you actually knew your job."
Enzo looked at him.
The man did not notice at first. People like that rarely noticed eyes unless they came from above.
Clara tried to enter something on the tablet, but her hands were shaking now. The supervisor leaned closer, voice lower but not softer.
The supervisor spoke through his teeth. "Move. You are embarrassing the department."
Enzo placed one hand on the edge of the reception desk. "That is enough."
Both of them looked at him.
The supervisor blinked. "Excuse me?"
Enzo kept his voice calm. "She made a small mistake. You are turning it into a performance."
The man's expression shifted into offense so quickly it looked practiced. "Mr. Vance, with respect, this is an internal League matter. I am responsible for staff discipline."
Enzo interrupted before the man could continue. "You are responsible for staff discipline, not public humiliation."
Clara looked like she wanted to disappear behind the desk.
The supervisor's face darkened. "You are here as an applicant, not as an administrator. I suggest you remember where you are."
Enzo tilted his head slightly. "That sounded close to a threat."
The supervisor straightened. "It was advice."
Enzo's voice stayed flat. "No. Advice is useful."
The silence that followed had teeth.
The supervisor took one step forward, his voice dropping into something uglier now that he thought he had authority and a private room. "Listen carefully. I do not care who you are, how famous you are, or which tragedy you are using to get attention. In this building, I do what I want with my staff, and nobody can stop me."
Enzo's expression did not change.
He lifted his phone.
The recording light was already blinking.
The supervisor's mouth closed.
Enzo turned the screen so both of them could see the captured audio timestamp. Then he copied the file and sent it to the contact card displayed on Clara's badge.
Her tablet chimed.
Enzo looked at Clara rather than the supervisor. "If he tries anything strange with you, use that. Do not be afraid of people who only look powerful when someone else gives them a badge."
Clara stared at the tablet.
The supervisor's face turned pale with anger. "You cannot record inside a League facility."
Enzo slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Then file a complaint. Make sure to include the part where you explained you could do whatever you wanted with your staff."
The man had no answer for that.
Clara swallowed, then took a breath that steadied her more than her hands. She entered the registration properly this time and gave Enzo a small bow.
Clara's voice was quieter, but steadier. "Your identity is confirmed, Mr. Vance. I will escort you to Elite Four Glacia."
Enzo nodded. "Thank you."
He followed her through a side door.
The corridor beyond reception was long and bright, with windows on one side overlooking a lower training yard. League trainees moved in formation below, some practicing with Water-types near the channels while others adjusted equipment. Clara walked half a step ahead of Enzo, still stiff from what had happened at the desk.
For almost a minute, she said nothing.
Then Clara glanced back at him. "Thank you for what you did."
Enzo kept walking. "You do not need to thank me."
Clara turned her eyes forward again. "I do. A lot of people would have ignored it."
Enzo's gaze drifted briefly to the training yard below. "Most people ignore small cruelty because it is easier than admitting they saw it."
Clara looked at him for a moment, then returned her attention to the corridor.
They passed another staff member near a trophy display, a young man wearing a League badge and holding a stack of files. He looked up, recognized Enzo, and nearly dropped the files.
The staffer quickly tightened his grip on the papers. "Mr. Vance, I am sorry, I know this is probably inappropriate, but could I get your autograph? My little brother is a huge fan. He bought the black Devon jacket from your collection, and he wears it everywhere. My mother hates it."
Clara slowed slightly.
Enzo noticed.
Of course.
He took the pen the staffer offered and signed the back of one of the man's spare forms, keeping the signature small enough not to compromise the form's intended use.
Enzo glanced at the staffer. "What is your brother's name?"
The staffer answered quickly. "Luis."
Enzo wrote beneath the signature: To Luis. Train seriously.
The staffer stared at it like it had become rare treasure. "Thank you, sir. Really. He is going to lose his mind."
Enzo handed the form back. "Then make sure he does it after school."
The staffer laughed nervously and hurried away.
Clara continued walking, but there was something different in the rhythm of her steps now. Lighter. More relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who had just been verbally crushed by a supervisor and rescued by a famous trainer she had never met.
Enzo said nothing.
They turned down another corridor.
This one was quieter, more private. The windows disappeared, replaced by pale walls and reinforced doors. Clara slowed as they approached a pair of double doors at the end, but before reaching them, she stopped.
Clara turned toward him. "Mr. Vance."
Enzo looked at her.
She was beautiful. That was probably intentional. Not in an absurd way, not in a manner that screamed seduction, but enough that a less careful person would have noticed the softness of her eyes, the shape of her mouth, and the way nervous gratitude could be mistaken for invitation.
Clara stepped closer. "I really do want to thank you."
Enzo did not move. "You already did."
Clara reached for his arm, her fingers resting lightly against his sleeve. "I mean properly. I finish work at six. If you want, I could show you Lilycove. Somewhere private, maybe. As thanks."
Enzo looked down at her hand.
Then he looked back at her face.
Clara's expression was good. Not perfect, but good. A little nervous, a little hopeful, a little too carefully vulnerable.
Enzo gently removed her hand from his sleeve. "No."
Clara's cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
Enzo's tone stayed even. "If this is gratitude, keep it. You do not owe your body to people who help you."
Clara went completely still.
Enzo looked toward the double doors. "Is Glacia behind those?"
Clara swallowed. "Yes."
Enzo stepped aside so she could lead. "Then take me to her."
Clara studied him for one more second, something like respect replacing the false softness in her eyes. Then she opened the doors.
The training chamber beyond was larger than the building's exterior suggested. It was not an arena for spectators. There were no stands, no banners, no dramatic lighting. Just a wide reinforced floor, several layers of emergency barriers, observation glass high on the walls, and a battlefield marked with clean white lines. The temperature dropped the moment Enzo stepped inside.
Glacia waited at the far side of the field.
She wore pale formal clothes under a long coat, her posture straight enough to make the room itself look less disciplined by comparison. Behind her stood two League officials with tablets. No cheering. No music. No performance.
Clara stopped near the entrance and bowed.
Clara spoke formally. "Elite Four Glacia, Mr. Vance has arrived."
Glacia nodded once. "Thank you, Clara."
Clara left without another word.
Enzo walked forward until he stood several meters from Glacia, then inclined his head with the correct amount of respect.
Enzo addressed her calmly. "Elite Four Glacia."
Glacia's gaze moved over him once, cold and precise. "Enzo Vance."
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Glacia lifted her tablet loosely at her side. "We can begin whenever you are ready."
Enzo looked at her for a moment.
Then he smiled faintly. "So I passed your first tests?"
One of the officials behind Glacia looked up from his tablet.
Glacia did not move. "My first tests?"
Enzo's smile remained small. "Please do not insult my intelligence. The assessment started before I even met you."
Glacia watched him in silence.
Enzo lifted one hand and counted calmly. "First, the reception. A nervous staff member and a supervisor who abuses authority in a way obvious enough to be noticed, but small enough that most people would pretend not to see it. You wanted to know whether I let petty injustice pass when it was inconvenient to intervene."
The nearest official looked uncomfortable.
Enzo continued before Glacia answered. "Second, the autograph. Not difficult, not threatening, just a small taste of fame. You wanted to know if I would get distracted by admiration."
Glacia's face remained unreadable.
Enzo lowered his hand. "Third, Clara. Gratitude, attraction, opportunity. You wanted to know whether I confuse someone owing me thanks with someone owing me access to them."
The silence deepened.
Glacia studied him for several seconds longer before finally speaking.
Glacia's voice was calm. "Clara is not a receptionist."
Enzo nodded. "I know."
Glacia's eyes stayed on him. "She is also not afraid of that man."
Enzo glanced briefly toward the doors. "I assumed."
One of the officials coughed into his hand.
Glacia ignored him. "You noticed all three."
Enzo answered easily. "They were not exactly hidden."
Glacia's eyes narrowed a fraction. "They were hidden from people who expect tests to be announced."
Enzo held her gaze. "Where I grew up, announced tests are light work."
For the first time, Glacia's smile appeared. It was brief, icy, and potentially threatening.
Glacia said, "You are special."
Enzo inclined his head. "Thank you."
Glacia's smile vanished. "That was not praise."
Enzo did not miss a beat. "I accepted it anyway."
The nearest official looked like he regretted being assigned to this room.
Glacia turned toward the battlefield and lifted one hand. "Now we test the part everyone already thinks they understand."
The floor shifted.
Panels opened near the edges of the arena. A thin mist rolled across the ground, pale and cold. Frost spread outward from hidden vents in delicate lines, coating parts of the field without making it unusable. Water channels opened across the center, shallow but wide enough to matter. The room had been prepared for Ice-types, Water-types, and mistakes.
Enzo stepped into position.
Glacia took the opposite side.
Glacia raised her voice just enough for the chamber to carry it. "This will be a three-on-three battle. All Pokémon on the field simultaneously. No audience, no commentary, no public narrative to carry you. I want to know whether the Rookie Tournament was skill, luck, or chaos pretending to be strategy."
Enzo's fingers moved across his belt. "Any special rules?"
Glacia answered without hesitation. "No lethal force. No destruction of the facility. No, deliberately targeting humans. Other than that, battle as you naturally would."
Enzo almost laughed.
Instead, he drew three Poké Balls.
Glacia released first.
White light flashed across her side of the field.
Glalie appeared in the air, its frozen body hovering with a jagged, ugly stillness. Beside it landed Sealeo, bulky and round, whiskers twitching as it slapped one flipper against the icy floor. Last came Walrein, massive and calm, settling into the central water channel like a king entering his own court.
The temperature dropped again.
Enzo opened the System.
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Specimen: Glalie
Trainer: Glacia
Level: 49
Potential: BLUE
Ability: Inner Focus
Typing: Ice
Moves Detected: Ice Beam, Protect, Crunch, Headbutt
Obs: "Direct pressure unit. Durable frontal attacker. Likely used to force reactions."
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Specimen: Sealeo
Trainer: Glacia
Level: 47
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Ability: Thick Fat
Typing: Ice / Water
Moves Detected: Aurora Beam, Brine, Aqua Ring, Icy Wind
Obs: "Support and attrition unit. Fire resistance enhanced by ability and typing."
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Specimen: Walrein
Trainer: Glacia
Level: 49
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Ability: Thick Fat
Typing: Ice / Water
Moves Detected: Surf, Ice Beam, Body Slam, Hail
Obs: "Primary field control unit. High endurance. Fire-based offense inefficient."
Enzo closed the windows.
Thick Fat on both Sealeo and Walrein.
Of course.
Glacia had not brought an Ice team to lose to the first Fire-type he threw forward.
Enzo reached for his belt and released his own Pokémon.
Houndoom appeared first, black fur bristling as heat shimmered around his horns. He lowered his head and gave Glalie a long, hateful look, recognizing the obvious target immediately. Krookodile landed beside him, claws scraping the frost, red eyes narrowing as his Intimidate rolled across the field like a predatory wave.
The third Poké Ball opened.
Another Houndoom stepped onto the field.
For a moment, both hellhounds stood side by side, identical in height, posture, expression, and the faint heat trembling around their bodies. The two League officials behind Glacia reacted before she did, their eyes flicking between the pair with immediate uncertainty.
Glacia did not look surprised.
Her gaze sharpened instead.
Glacia looked at the second Houndoom and spoke with calm certainty. "Zoroark."
The second Houndoom did not answer.
Enzo's mouth twitched. "You don't like it?"
Glacia's expression remained unreadable. "Predictable."
Enzo looked across the field again. He studied the water channels, the frost, the way Walrein owned the center simply by existing there, and the way Sealeo was already positioned to interrupt any direct pressure from Houndoom.
Glacia had built her field well.
That only meant he needed to ruin the way she read it.
Enzo lifted two fingers. "Switch pattern."
Both Houndoom moved at once.
Not toward Glalie.
Around each other.
The real Houndoom cut left while Zoroark mirrored him right, their bodies crossing through the falling hail in a clean diagonal blur. Krookodile stepped forward at the same time, dragging attention to the center with the heavy scrape of claws against ice.
Glacia watched the two Houndoom without blinking.
Enzo gave the next order before she could settle on either one. "Again."
The two hellhounds crossed again.
This time, Zoroark moved through a patch of steam created by Houndoom's heat against the frosted floor, and the illusion carried the motion perfectly. One Houndoom slid low. The other leaped over Krookodile's tail. Then they split, circled, and crossed again.
It was not random.
It only looked random.
Every exchange happened close enough to a burst of steam, hail, or Krookodile's body that the eye could follow one shape but not confirm the identity beneath it. The League officials behind Glacia were already losing track. Their eyes moved too slowly. Their attention kept snapping to the wrong side.
Glacia remained calm, but Enzo saw her focus narrow.
Good.
He wanted her watching.
Enzo pointed toward the center. "Krookodile, hold Walrein. Do not let it take the middle for free."
Krookodile answered with a low rumble and slammed one claw into the frozen ground, cracking the ice around the water channel. The move was not an attack. Not yet. It was a statement. If Walrein wanted the center, it would have to step over him.
Glacia gave her first order. "Walrein, Hail."
Walrein lifted its head, and the air answered.
Cold slammed into the room. Not a natural cold, not simple weather, but a controlled arena storm that filled the field with spinning white flecks and a constant grinding whisper. The frost thickened underfoot. Visibility dropped just enough to make the distance annoying.
Sealeo slid toward the left channel.
Glalie floated forward, guarding the path between Houndoom and Walrein.
Enzo smiled faintly.
She was already protecting against the obvious Fire-type threat.
Enzo gave the next command. "Houndooms, rotate."
Both Houndoom moved again.
One darted behind Krookodile, disappearing for half a second behind the crocodile's broad body. The other moved through the steam trailing from the first one's paws. When they emerged, they had switched sides again.
Glacia's eyes followed one.
Then the other.
Then both.
For the first time, she did not issue a command immediately.
Enzo did.
Enzo pointed at Glalie. "Houndoom, Flamethrower."
One of the Houndoom lunged.
The attack came fast and clean. A stream of fire cut through the hail, turning the cold air into screaming vapor as it drove straight toward Glalie. The angle was perfect: direct, aggressive, exactly the kind of move a trainer would use if he believed Fire's advantage could force the Ice-type to defend.
Glacia reacted at once.
Glacia's voice cut through the storm. "Glalie, Protect."
The green barrier snapped open.
Flamethrower crashed against it and spread around the shield in a violent bloom of fire and steam. The attack did nothing to Glalie. It only filled the right side of the field with a thick white fog as heat met hail, frost, and the edge of the water channel.
Glacia's eyes moved immediately.
Not to the Houndoom that had attacked.
To the other one.
Enzo saw the calculation happen.
It was beautiful.
She thought she understood him.
She thought the first attacker had been Zoroark, thrown forward to force Glalie's Protect. She thought Enzo had sacrificed the illusion's attack to open the real Houndoom's kill window. It was the obvious Zoroark play. Bait the shield. Make the opponent count the wrong threat. Bring the real Fire-type through the opening.
That was exactly what Enzo wanted her to think.
Glacia's gaze locked onto the second Houndoom as it appeared through the fog, racing toward Glalie from the left.
Glacia raised her hand. "Sealeo, Brine. Walrein, Surf. Stop that one."
Sealeo fired first.
A sharp stream of water cut across the field, aimed not to damage lightly but to break the charge completely. Walrein followed a heartbeat later, and the difference in power was immediate. The Surf rose from the central channel like a moving wall, heavy, wide, and cold enough to drag frost with it as it rolled toward the second Houndoom.
The two attacks crossed at different heights, sealing the angle.
If that Houndoom was real, it would be crushed before it reached Glalie.
The second Houndoom grinned.
Not like Houndoom.
Like Zoroark.
Enzo's eyes flicked once toward the center of the field. "Krookodile, split the ground."
Krookodile reacted before the Surf fully crossed the channel. His claws slammed into the frozen floor with brutal precision, and the ground between Walrein and Zoroark cracked open in a jagged line. It was not a full Earthquake, not yet. It was a controlled fissure, carved through ice, stone, and channel edge at just the right angle to break the wave's body.
The Surf hit the fracture.
For half a second, the water lost its shape.
Part of it collapsed into the fissure with a violent crash, steam and frost bursting upward as the field swallowed the lower half of Walrein's attack. But Walrein was too strong for the move to be stopped completely. The remaining wave surged over the broken ground anyway, thinner than before, weaker than before, but still powerful enough to flatten most Pokémon if it landed cleanly.
Enzo's voice came from behind the fog, calm and low. "Zoroark, Protect."
The green barrier opened.
Brine struck first, cracking light across the shield. The weakened Surf crashed into it a heartbeat later, still heavy enough to drive Zoroark backward across the ice. The barrier trembled under the combined impact, lines of strain spiderwebbing across its surface as Zoroark's feet scraped long marks into the frozen floor.
For one second, it looked like the shield would break.
Zoroark held.
Barely.
His illusion flickered violently, the shape of Houndoom tearing apart in strips of black smoke until the fox beneath it appeared with teeth bared, wet fur whipping around him, one knee almost touching the ground.
The League officials behind Glacia went still.
Glacia's eyes narrowed.
She had been tricked.
Glacia spoke without raising her voice. "The first one was real."
Enzo answered from inside the fog. "Yes."
The real Houndoom had not retreated after using Flamethrower.
He had dropped low.
When Protect collided with fire and turned the field white, he had flattened himself against the ice under the fog line, body pressed close to the ground, heat restrained, breath held, almost invisible beneath the rolling vapor. Glacia had looked for the next attacker. She had looked for the obvious real Houndoom charging through the opening.
She had not looked down.
Enzo's voice cut through the mist. "Houndoom, now."
The fog lit from below.
Houndoom's mouth opened from near the ground, and a concentrated Flamethrower tore upward at a brutal angle. It did not spread wide. It did not waste heat. It punched through the fog like a blade of fire and struck Glalie from beneath.
Glalie had just used Protect.
It had just shifted attention toward Zoroark.
It had no shield ready.
The fire hit clean.
Glalie vanished inside the blast for a moment, swallowed by steam and orange light. The sound that followed was not a roar, but a violent hiss as ice, hail, and frost turned instantly into vapor. Then Glalie crashed backward, struck the frozen floor, bounced once, and slid across the field until it stopped near Glacia's side.
Smoke rose from its body.
But it was not out.
Glalie's eyes flickered open.
The Ice-type trembled, damaged badly enough that the air around it warped with escaping cold, but it still tried to rise. Its jaw tightened, and the frost beneath its body began to thicken again as it forced itself back into the battle.
Glacia's gaze sharpened.
Enzo did not give her the chance.
He turned his attention to the center. "Krookodile, Earthquake. Short burst."
Krookodile's grin widened.
The crocodile slammed both claws into the cracked ground.
The entire field shook.
Not wildly. Not enough to bring the facility down or tear apart the whole arena. Enzo did not need that. He needed one controlled shock through the fissure Krookodile had already opened. The tremor raced along the broken line in the floor, using the crack as a path, and struck the section of ice beneath Glalie before the Ice-type could fully rise.
The floor buckled.
Glalie's body jolted upward, then slammed back down with a heavy crack.
Its eyes went dim.
This time, it did not move.
Glalie was fainted.
For several seconds, the fog hid everything.
Then it began to clear.
The field had changed.
Glalie was down.
Sealeo was out of position after committing to the wrong target.
Walrein remained strong, still massive, still dangerous, still the heaviest presence in the arena, but Krookodile had cut its Surf, cracked the center, and proved that even Walrein's field control could be interrupted.
Enzo had all three Pokémon still on the field.
Krookodile stood in the center, breathing hard but upright, claws sunk into the fractured ice.
Houndoom rose from the thinning fog on the right side, flames still licking around his mouth, body bruised but steady.
Zoroark remained near the left channel, his illusion gone, one knee almost touching the floor. Protect had saved him from being crushed, but barely. He was more out than in, fur damp from the water impact, shoulders trembling with effort.
Still, he had done his job.
He was standing.
That mattered.
Glacia looked first at Glalie.
Then, at the fissure cutting through the center of the battlefield.
Then at Zoroark.
Then at the real Houndoom.
For the first time since the battle began, the structure she had built had been broken in a way that could not be repaired cleanly. Walrein and Sealeo could still fight. But the next exchange would be ugly. Houndoom had room. Krookodile had the center. Zoroark, wounded or not, could no longer be ignored because every movement he made would force doubt.
Glacia saw the disadvantage.
She also saw that the purpose of the test had already been answered.
Glacia raised one hand. "Enough."
Houndoom stopped, flames still gathering between his teeth.
For several seconds, the only sound was the hiss of steam under hail.
Enzo looked across the field. "The battle was not finished."
Glacia recalled Walrein calmly. "No. The test was."
Enzo's eyes stayed on her. "You stopped before the decisive exchange."
Houndoom growled softly.
Enzo raised one hand, and the hellhound went silent.
Glacia approached the center of the field. "You are truly talented." She paused a few meters away. "Initially, you relied too eagerly on Fire-type advantage and noticed a big flaw in your style."
Enzo clipped Houndoom's ball back to his belt. "Really, can you tell me?"
Glacia held his gaze. "I can."
For a moment, Enzo said nothing.
He had expected criticism. He had expected suspicion. He had even expected some cold remark about his methods being unpleasant or dangerous. But acknowledgment from Glacia felt different from praise coming from Steven or the crowd. It did not try to flatter him. It simply landed on the table as a fact she had been forced to accept.
Then Glacia looked toward the place where Zoroark had nearly been crushed by Sealeo and Walrein's combined attack.
Glacia's voice remained calm, but the edge in it changed. "Your all-in style will get your Pokémon killed if you are careless with it."
Enzo's expression did not change, but his attention sharpened.
Glacia continued, her eyes still on the battlefield rather than on him. "This was an evaluation. There were rules. There were limits. I stopped when I had seen enough. Out there, against Team Aqua, Team Magma, or anyone with real intent to destroy you, no one will stop because your tactic was clever."
She finally looked back at him.
Glacia's tone became colder. "If you sacrifice one Pokémon's position to create an opening for another, your enemies will not admire the strategy. They will kill the exposed Pokémon. They will do it deliberately, because weakening your team is the simplest way to weaken you."
The words settled over the field more heavily than the hail had.
Enzo's thoughts drifted back involuntarily to memories from a past life—Trial Island. Koffing was hurled like a bomb. For years, this was about survival, later, it became a habit, and eventually a style. He cared for his Pokémon well, but in battle situations, he hadn't changed much.
He looked briefly toward Zoroark's Poké Ball on his belt.
Zoroark had survived because Krookodile had split Walrein's Surf and because Protect had held, but thinking about it, it was a gamble he relied too much on suicide tactics. Without that fissure, without that reduction in force, Zoroark might not have been kneeling at the end of the exchange.
Glacia watched the realization move behind his eyes, though she did not soften. "Use deception. Use bait. Use pressure. Those are valid tools. But understand the difference between risking your Pokémon and spending them. A Gym Leader can risk his team. A commander can risk his team. A butcher spends it."
Enzo looked at her for a long moment.
The answer that came to his tongue first was defensive. He swallowed it.
Because she was right.
He was no longer that man.
Enzo inclined his head, just enough to make the gesture respectful rather than submissive. "Thank you for the advice."
One of the League officials behind Glacia looked surprised.
Glacia did not.
Glacia studied him for another second before answering. "Do not thank me. Prove you heard it."
Enzo's mouth curved faintly. "I will."
Glacia's gaze did not leave his face. "Good. Because if you intend to build a city, Enzo Vance, you will have more than Pokémon depending on whether you know the difference."
Only then did her voice become formal again.
Glacia said, "You passed."
Enzo looked at her for a moment. "Everything?"
Glacia nodded once. "The girl at the desk was a test of whether you tolerate petty abuse when it costs you nothing to look away. The autograph was a test of vanity. Clara's offer was a test of appetite."
Enzo repeated the word. "Appetite."
Glacia's expression hardened. "Power gives men appetite. Fame makes them believe appetite is deserved."
Enzo's expression remained calm. "You expected me to fail that one?"
Glacia answered plainly. "I expected to learn something either way."
"And did you?" Enzo asked.
Glacia held his gaze. "Yes."
She did not elaborate.
Enzo smiled faintly. "Good."
Glacia studied him with the same cold attention she had given him in the League meeting. "Do not mistake passing for trust."
Enzo answered immediately. "I would not."
Glacia turned slightly toward the officials, who began typing. "The settlement proposal may proceed as a provisional development project. No civilian habitation until structural integrity, ventilation, water safety, and medical access are certified. The Joy Clan will review healthcare readiness. The Jenny Clan will review security protocols. Devon will remain as support and partial guarantor."
Enzo nodded. "Understood."
Glacia continued, still watching him. "The Gym proposal remains a candidacy. You are not a Gym Leader. You are not authorized to operate as one. You may prepare facilities, submit philosophy, submit battle format, and build training infrastructure. Actual approval will require further evaluation."
Enzo asked, "By you?"
Glacia replied, "By the League." Then she added, "And me."
Enzo's tone stayed polite. "Of course."
Glacia continued listing conditions. "I will conduct surprise inspections."
Enzo nodded again. "I expected that."
Glacia's eyes narrowed slightly. "If reports are falsified, I will shut the project down."
Enzo answered calmly. "I expected that too."
Glacia's voice dropped, and even the air seemed to become still around her. "If people are harmed because you rushed construction to feed your own ambition, I will do more than shut it down."
Steven was waiting outside the main building, leaning against the car with his arms crossed. The moment Enzo stepped through the door, Steven looked him over, then glanced toward the building behind him.
Steven pushed himself off the car. "Well?"
Enzo walked down the steps. "She likes me."
Steven stared at him.
Steven paused with his hand on the door. "Did you pass?"
Enzo gave him a sidelong look. "Yes."
Steven let out a breath he had clearly been holding. "Good."
Enzo's mouth curved slightly. "Were you worried?"
Steven straightened. "No."
Enzo smiled. "You were definitely worried."
Steven looked at him for a second.
Then Steven narrowed his eyes. "Do not use my own joke against me."
Steven got in after him.
Before the driver pulled away, Enzo's TR Device vibrated.
Anna had sent another report.
No expansion. No casualties. Ronnie attempted to name the entrance "Big Rock Door." Rejected. Meowth attempted to sell complaints as consulting. Also rejected.
Enzo stared at the message.
A second message arrived from an unknown number.
Coordinates received. Arriving in three days. Have maps ready.
— Graves
Enzo saved the number.
Steven noticed the name. "Your construction contact?"
Enzo put the device away. "Yes."
Steven's expression tightened. "Should I be worried?"
Enzo looked out the window. "Probably."
Steven leaned back with a sigh. "That was not the answer I wanted."
Enzo replied, "It was the honest one."
Steven closed his eyes briefly. "I am starting to miss when our biggest problem was identifying rocks."
Enzo looked at him. "Those rocks gave you Mega Metagross."
The car pulled away from the facility, leaving the League grounds behind. Hoenn rolled past the tinted window in warm greens and coastal blues, beautiful enough to lie convincingly about itself.
Enzo looked out at the region he had just entered a little deeper.
Glacia had not given him freedom.
She had granted him permission, but it came with restrictions, inspections, conditions, and threats. That was acceptable. Freedom was beneficial. Accessibility was even better.
The League had opened a door. Steven had given him cover. The mountain had given him space. Graves was coming in three days. Anna was already mapping. Proton was already securing.
The machine was moving.
Steven glanced at him from the other side of the car. "You look pleased."
Enzo kept his gaze on the passing coastline. "I am."
Steven looked more worried than reassured. "That is somehow more worrying than when you looked tired."
Enzo allowed himself a faint smile. "You should get used to it."
Steven asked, "To what?"
Enzo finally looked back at him. "Being worried."
Steven closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer to every stone in Hoenn.
Enzo looked back out the window.
The test was over.
The work had started.