"So then… how will you deal with this one?"
Peter's lips curved upward.
"Max Hailstorm!!!"
Max Hailstorm — an Ice-type Max Move that never misses. After striking, it summons a raging hailstorm across the battlefield.
"RAAAH—!"
Before the shockwaves from Max Knuckle had fully dispersed, the towering Vigoroth lifted its massive arm once more.
The clear sky was swallowed by white frost clouds.
At first, pebbles of ice began to fall.
Then they grew.
And grew.
Within seconds, a colossal hailstone over forty meters wide plummeted toward Garchomp at blinding speed.
Cynthia's expression shifted.
She hated being suppressed like this.
"Dragon Claw—split it! Then follow with Dragon Rush!"
Garchomp's blade-like claws flashed. A streak of white light carved through the sky—
The massive hailstone was cleaved cleanly in half.
The cut was smooth as polished glass.
"BOOM—!"
Shards exploded across the plaza, releasing freezing torrents of air—
And Garchomp was already charging, draconic aura surging like a tidal wave.
Peter narrowed his eyes.
Two commands chained in an instant.
Champion-level execution.
"But…" Peter murmured with a faint smile,
"I'm still at full Dynamax."
"Vigoroth—again! Max. Hail. Storm!!!"
"RAAAH!"
This time, with Garchomp closing in, there was no time to condense another sky-falling meteor. Instead, Vigoroth thrust its arm into the frost clouds—
Ice condensed directly around its fist.
A frozen giant gauntlet formed—
And slammed downward.
Garchomp's arm fins and dorsal blade ignited with dragon energy. The blue draconic phantom sharpened into something almost tangible—
Its already terrifying speed increased again.
"BOOOOM—!!!"
Twin ice fists crashed down from both sides, trapping Garchomp in a crushing pincer.
Ice shards filled the air.
The violent Ice-type energy whipped Cynthia's golden hair across her face. Peter, still in short sleeves, shivered from the blast of freezing wind—
But his gaze never left Vigoroth's hands.
There—
A dark-blue aura pulsed violently.
"Break through! Aim for the abdomen!"
"GRAAAASS!!!"
Cynthia's command landed—
Dragon energy erupted.
In an instant, the draconic phantom pierced straight through Vigoroth's abdomen.
"Aaagh—!"
The gigantic body collapsed.
Red light faded.
Vigoroth shrank back to normal size and crashed to the ground, breathing raggedly.
Just like Lopunny.
Not fainted.
But finished.
"Switch," Cynthia said calmly.
But beneath her composure, waves churned.
Without realizing it, she had long since stopped treating this as a senior instructing a junior.
Information gaps.
Unfamiliar battle systems.
Unpredictable pressure.
One miscalculation—and even she could stumble.
And Vigoroth—
After tanking two quadruple-effective Max Hailstorms—
Garchomp was breathing harder.
"Raah…"
Vigoroth forced itself upright.
Its abdomen bore a horrifying wound.
Blood stained its fur.
Peter took it all in silently.
He recalled it gently.
"Come back. Your effort won't go to waste."
The Poké Ball trembled.
"I know," he whispered softly.
"I understand everything you're trying to say."
He released the third Poké Ball.
"Arboliva—you're up!"
"Dragon Claw!"
"Sweet Scent!"
Both commands rang out simultaneously.
Cynthia's brow lifted.
Facing Garchomp's incoming blade—
Peter chose Sweet Scent?
Fragrance spread through the battlefield.
Garchomp's claw hesitated—just for a fraction—
Then carved deep into Oliva's heavy foliage.
"Li… va…"
Arboliva staggered back several steps.
But it did not fall.
Cynthia's lips twitched.
It tanked that?
I wasn't going all out… but still—
Give the Champion some face, at least.
A dark seed dropped from Arboliva's branch.
Lush green grass rapidly spread beneath it.
Seed Sower activated.
Grassy Terrain bloomed.
Notably—
The terrain covered only a small radius beneath Arboliva.
Thus, the healing would not benefit Garchomp.
Months of precise terrain control training had made that possible.
"Is this a pure wall build?" Cynthia wondered.
She had offered Peter two victory conditions—
Survive twenty minutes.
Or force Garchomp out of bounds.
At first, she merely wanted to gauge potential.
Now—
She simply wanted to win.
"Continue. Dragon Claw—again!"
Peter's eyes sharpened.
"Maintain Sweet Scent—Protect!"
Green light flared.
Arboliva raised a shimmering barrier—
But Champion-level Dragon Claw shattered it within seconds.
The second slash struck solidly.
"Li—va!"
Arboliva dropped to one knee.
Another seed fell.
Fragrant olive aroma filled the air.
Cynthia frowned.
It endured two Dragon Claws?
The second was a direct hit.
This wasn't a game simulation.
Advanced-level Protect could never fully block a Champion's strike.
Peter smiled faintly.
Holding Grassy Seed on Grassy Terrain—
Arboliva's physical bulk was absurd.
"Dragon Claw. Finish it."
Cynthia pressed.
She knew Arboliva possessed recovery potential. If she allowed tempo to slip—
The match could become a grind.
As Garchomp lunged—
Peter spoke softly.
"You can't dodge this."
"A parting gift."
Cynthia's pupils contracted.
Too late.
Arboliva shimmered—
Then a gray-black mist drifted outward, wrapping around Garchomp like an ornate gift box—
And detonated.
A dull red glow flared beneath Garchomp's feet.
Attack ↓↓
Special Attack ↓↓
Memento.
A self-sacrificial move that drops the opponent's offensive stats by two stages.
Peter recalled Arboliva, smiling.
"Normal debuffs barely tickle Garchomp. So I chose something… absolute."
Cynthia sighed inwardly.
He was right.
Intimidate? Charm?
Against a massive level gap?
Nearly meaningless.
But Memento—
At the cost of one's own vitality—
Guaranteed impact.
And after luring her into aggressive play through prolonged Sweet Scent pressure—
It was nearly unavoidable.
Cynthia looked at him carefully.
"Your style… is quite versatile."
When hot-blooded, he overwhelmed.
When calm, he dirtied the field.
Even now—
She couldn't define his core strategy.
Was he an all-out attacker?
Or a tempo manipulator?
Peter grinned.
"Different Pokémon. Different tactics."
"As a Trainer, choosing the way they enjoy fighting—the way that suits them—that's my creed."
Snow continued to fall.
Sandstorm had vanished.
The battlefield shifted once more.
And the match—
Was only getting deeper.
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T/N:
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