Miracles do happen in battle — but unfortunately, today was not one of those days.
"Raaaugh!"
Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, a thunderous roar erupted from the thick cloud of smoke that had swallowed the entire battle arena. A moment later, a sharp gust of wind tore through the haze, scattering dust and debris in every direction, and a massive figure rose steadily from the ground.
The Salamence spread its great wings wide. The turbulent air around the arena seemed to calm at its presence, as if recognizing its master and falling into line. Its deep crimson and blue body gleamed in the light, and aside from a few faint purple embers still clinging to its scales — the last remnants of whatever attack it had taken — it showed no signs of strain. If anything, it looked more alive than before. The thrill of winning its first battle since evolving had left it restless and eager, its wings beating slow, deliberate strokes as it circled the arena.
The contrast with its fallen opponent was stark.
Greninja lay motionless at the bottom of a large crater, its body charred black. It did not stir.
The crater itself told the story. This was, after all, just a school battle arena — built for student sparring, not for clashes of this magnitude. But David and his Salamence had clearly gone far beyond what this arena was ever meant to hold. The impact had left a deep, jagged pit in the center of the field, and Greninja had taken the full force of the blow.
Had David not held back, it was unlikely the opponent's Pokémon would have walked away from that at all. Even now, the only reason David was sure Greninja was still alive was the faint pulse of its life force that he could sense. It was utterly unable to battle.
The move that had done this was something David had developed himself. Working from Salamence's natural strengths — its overwhelming size, its raw physical power — he had combined the force of Body Slam with the momentum of Dragon Rush, shaping them into a single technique designed to strike from above like a falling star. With Salamence's immense body weight behind it, the resulting attack hit with crushing force.
Even David had been a little surprised. This was the first time he had used it in an actual battle, and the result had exceeded his expectations. Greninja had been a decent test subject for it, at least.
He had given the move a name he was quietly a little embarrassed about — "Holy Dragon Skyfall" — which, in practice, was essentially an upgraded Dragon Rush. It sounded dramatic, maybe a bit too dramatic, which was why he had decided against announcing it out loud during the battle. His Salamence, however, seemed to genuinely like the name. Despite its fearsome size and strength, it had never quite lost that eager, almost reckless streak from its days as a Bagon. That part of its personality still showed — though only around David and those close to him. In front of strangers, it was exactly what it looked like: an imposing, fully-evolved pseudo-legendary.
"Not bad, right? I'd say my team is in pretty good shape," David said, his voice carrying a light, deliberate taunt as he watched Kuuki Genichi return Greninja to its Poké Ball. "Who's next? I'm ready whenever."
Kuuki Genichi said nothing. He tucked the Poké Ball away quietly and walked back to his side of the platform without a word. But his fists were clenched at his sides, and his hands were trembling slightly. He was not as composed as he appeared.
Watching his ace Pokémon defeated so thoroughly — it stung. He had not expected this. If he had known David's team was at this level, he would never have agreed to step onto the field in the first place.
It was worth understanding the context. In the Sakura Alliance, old bloodline hierarchies ran far deeper than in the Cloudspire Alliance. Noble families still held real influence over nearly every corner of national life. Even the shift to the Alliance era had not fully erased that. Someone of Kuuki Genichi's standing was accustomed to a certain kind of deference — trainers tended to be cautious just standing near him, let alone battling him. Even rivals from equally prominent families treated one another with careful mutual respect.
He had expected difficulty when he arrived in the Cloudspire Alliance. He had steeled himself for cold shoulders, for being overlooked or quietly excluded. What he had not anticipated was this — being made to look like a beginner on his very first day.
"I concede."
He said those two words flatly, stepped off the battle platform, and returned to the spectator area without looking back.
From the crowd, Miles and the others let out a wave of jeers. This was their territory, and after watching David's Salamence deliver that kind of performance, none of them were in a generous mood.
Kuuki Genichi ignored the noise entirely. He had made his decision and he felt fine about it. He was not going to stand on a field and take more punishment for the sake of appearances. One battle was enough — he had participated, which meant he could report back without issue. He was done.
"Raaugh! Raaugh!"
High above the arena, Salamence let out a sharp, irritated cry when it saw its opponent withdraw. It had been ready for more.
Kuuki Genichi did not react. If anyone else wants to battle this trainer, be my guest. I've done my part.
He had figured out what was happening. David was using them as practice. He had no interest in being a punching bag.
"So, is that it?" David called out, looking toward the remaining members of the Sakura Alliance delegation. Salamence continued to circle lazily overhead, its shadow drifting across the arena. "Anyone else want to go? I'm not in a rush."
No one spoke.
The sheer presence of that Salamence had silenced the group. This was not the kind of opponent they had been prepared to face. Most of them had seen strong Pokémon before, but the pressure coming off this one was different — heavier, more real. It was not just strong. It was on a different level entirely.
David looked them over, then let a faint smirk cross his face.
"Is this really all the Sakura Alliance has to offer?"
The words landed hard.
"I'll battle any of you, one after another, for as long as you like. If you want, you can even take turns — I don't mind."
A ripple of disbelief passed through the Sakura Alliance group. They had met confident trainers before, but this was something else. What David was proposing — a gauntlet — was exactly the kind of challenge that should have been manageable at their level. Below the Gym Leader rank, before a trainer's Pokémon had fully undergone their energy transformation, even a strong individual Pokémon could be worn down by a sustained series of opponents. Numbers, in theory, could compensate for power gaps.
That was the logic. And yet, hearing David say it out loud — practically inviting them to try — something strange happened. The resignation that had been settling over the group began to crack. A small, stubborn spark of hope pushed through.
Maybe. If we all go one by one… maybe it's possible.
That thought, small as it was, changed the mood. The Sakura Alliance members who had already given up mentally began to straighten up. They gritted their teeth.
There were two reasons they could not simply walk away. The first was that David had — perhaps carelessly, perhaps deliberately — given them a possible opening. The second, and more pressing, was the matter of honor. Every trainer in this delegation had been selected because of their background. Returning home with nothing to show would have consequences. The senior members of their Alliance would not be forgiving about a loss like this, especially one that had happened so publicly.
If they had to fight, they would fight. Many small forces could wear down even the strongest opponent — or so the theory went. They were not ants, after all. And David was not an elephant.
That was what they told themselves.
The reality, however, turned out to be less kind.
"Sawk is unable to battle! The winner is Imperial Capital First High School's David!"
"Scyther is unable to battle! The winner is David!"