"Good luck."
Steven smiled quietly as he spoke to Cynthia, who stood at the entrance to the League building.
"Mm." Cynthia nodded once.
She faced the door ahead of her. Once she stepped through, there was no going back. There were only two outcomes: she would succeed, or she would not.
She took a breath, and walked in without hesitation.
The door eased shut behind her.
Steven watched it close, his expression still.
"Something on your mind?" President Goodshow stepped up beside him, an easy smile on his face. "You look worried."
"Not worried, exactly." Steven shook his head. "I have full confidence in her. But a gauntlet challenge takes a real toll on stamina — and when stamina drops, so does focus. A Trainer's ability to read the battle and give commands starts to slip. It's unavoidable."
"True enough." President Goodshow clasped his hands behind his back. "But that's precisely what separates those who reach the top from those who don't."
He gestured for Steven to follow him. "Come. Walk with me to the front — we can talk while we wait."
The corridor led toward the passage connecting to the Sinnoh Champion's Hall. Their footsteps echoed evenly in the quiet.
"By the way," President Goodshow said, glancing sideways with a hint of amusement, "I heard you gave Phoebe a Mega Stone. Apparently she's been showing it off around the League offices for the past two days."
"The Sablenite wasn't of any use to me," Steven said calmly. "I have no intention of catching a Sableye. And a Mega Stone in the hands of an Elite Four member strengthens the League overall — that benefits Hoenn far more than it sitting in my drawer."
It wasn't an isolated decision, either. Whenever Steven encountered a Trainer he felt was genuinely promising, he had a habit of passing along Mega Stones he had no personal use for. His collection of rare minerals and gems was extensive, but only what he could meaningfully use deserved a place in his team's strategy.
"A generous way of thinking." President Goodshow chuckled. "Though it looks like you won't have much time for official duties in the near future."
"Truthfully," Steven said after a pause, "I'm still not entirely sure how to handle them."
President Goodshow raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.
"What do you think the Champion's role actually is?"
Steven considered the question properly before answering. "Protecting the peace of the region, I suppose."
"That's not wrong," President Goodshow said, "but it's too broad. It doesn't capture the full picture."
He held up a finger. "First: the Champion's strength and character. A Champion is a standard — the figure that every Trainer in the region looks up to and aspires toward."
A second finger. "Second: driving the region's growth. In practical terms, that means the League's funding. Without revenue, everything else is just intention. Gym facilities don't maintain themselves. Pokémon Centers don't run on goodwill. When a natural disaster strikes a community, recovery doesn't happen without resources."
A third. "Third: when genuine danger comes, the Champion doesn't wait at the rear. The Champion is the first line of response — not the last."
Steven was quiet for a moment. Then something clicked.
"That's why Elite Four members appear at exhibition matches, commentary events, promotional appearances—"
"All of it generates funding," President Goodshow confirmed with a nod. "Every bit of it. The most direct example is Champion Lance — and across in Galar, Champion Leon handles everything personally. His Champion's Cape is covered in sponsorship logos, and the moment an incident occurs, he's already on the scene."
Steven absorbed that.
"There is something I could offer you, though," President Goodshow said, his tone shifting to something more measured. "A special arrangement. One that would exempt you from the standard administrative duties — the routine paperwork, the scheduled appearances you'd otherwise be obligated to fulfill."
Steven stopped walking.
"Exempt me?"
That would mean no more quietly redirecting files to Wallace every time something came up.
"There are conditions," President Goodshow continued. "You would still need to attend certain key events. And you must be able to reach the front lines in Hoenn immediately if something happens. No delays." He paused. "You've taken the Champion's position. That comes with a particular kind of responsibility that can't be set aside."
He looked at Steven steadily. "Being a Champion isn't simply about being the strongest Trainer and holding the title. The Champion represents the hopes and trust of every person in that region. That weight doesn't go away."
"The trust of the people," Steven murmured.
He turned it over in his mind. The arrangement President Goodshow was describing was almost exactly what he would have asked for, if he had thought to ask.
"Would something like this actually be possible?"
President Goodshow let out a hearty laugh. "Don't look at me — I can't approve something like that unilaterally!"
"Then..." Steven paused. "Why bring it up?"
"Because I can raise it for a vote within the League committee," President Goodshow said, clearing his throat with exaggerated dignity. "Whether it passes is another matter entirely."
Steven stopped and turned, dipping his head in a slight bow. "Then I'd be grateful if you would."
President Goodshow blinked. "You're serious, son?"
"I am."
The older man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "All right. I'll bring it up when I'm back. No promises on the outcome."
Steven straightened up. If the vote didn't pass, the plan was simple enough — he would find Wallace and tell him something like: I'll be away for a while. There's a chance I won't come back. The Champion's position — I'm trusting it to you. It wouldn't be an empty excuse either. What Steven ultimately intended to pursue would genuinely carry that kind of risk.
He simply didn't have the strength for it yet.
"I'm already grateful that you'd propose it at all," Steven said.
"Think nothing of it." President Goodshow waved a hand. "The Elite Four go through the same administrative grind, after all. You're not asking for anything unusual." He turned toward a side passage. "Now — let's go see how your girlfriend is getting on."
He led Steven through a corridor and into a small private viewing room. One wall was dominated by a large screen showing a live feed of the battle inside.
On the screen, Cynthia was facing a young man with dark green hair and an earnest expression — clearly no older than Steven himself.
"I thought the League battles weren't broadcast externally," Steven said.
"Of course not." President Goodshow settled into an armchair. "But you and I are hardly outsiders."
That was difficult to argue with.
Steven sat on the sofa, his attention moving to the screen.
"That young man is one of the newly appointed Sinnoh Elite Four," President Goodshow said. "He's about a year older than you. Bug-type specialist — his name is Aaron."
Steven opened his mouth. Then closed it.
On screen, Aaron's Flygon swooped low across the field, scales glinting under the arena lights.
"...Chairman." Steven pointed at the screen carefully. "Are you certain his specialty is Bug-type?"
"Cough — well. The majority of his team are Bug-type Pokémon."
Steven looked at the Flygon. Then back at President Goodshow. He decided to let it rest.
On screen, Cynthia raised her Key Stone. The light of Mega Evolution pulsed outward from Garchomp, reshaping its silhouette — fins extending, body lengthening, the air around it sharpening with draconic energy.
Mega Garchomp fixed Aaron's Flygon with a flat, patient stare.
Cynthia called Scale Shot. Garchomp launched a rapid barrage of scales, each strike boosting its own speed — compensating deliberately for the slight reduction that came with Mega Evolution.
It's trading defense for pure offensive speed, Steven thought, watching closely. She's committing to an aggressive style — dodge where possible, strike when there's an opening, don't give the opponent room to breathe.
Dragon Claw followed. Flygon hit the ground and didn't get up.
Aaron's head dropped slightly. Cynthia had cleared the first challenge.
The thirty-minute rest period began. Steven studied the condition of Cynthia's team on the status display. Milotic was running somewhat low — not critically, but noticeably. The rest of her Pokémon had come through in good shape.
"Next should be the newly appointed Fire-type Elite — Flint," President Goodshow said.
Steven considered the matchup. Cynthia had Gastrodon, a Water and Ground-type, along with Milotic. Both had a strong advantage against Fire. With Garchomp available as a secondary option, this round would likely go smoothly — provided Milotic was managed carefully given its current condition.
The more demanding matchups would come later. Bertha's Ground-type team would put pressure on, but Milotic and Gastrodon could handle it if they paced themselves. The real test would be Lucian.
Psychic, Ghost, and Poison — each of those types had a way of punishing overcommitment. Lucian had a reputation for being methodical and unpredictable in equal measure.
The thirty minutes passed.
Cynthia recalled her Pokémon, straightened up, and pushed open the door to the second room.
Inside, a young man with explosive red hair grinned at her from across the field, practically buzzing with restless energy.
"Hope you're ready — because I'm going to burn through everything you've got!"