The air in the training room was so oppressive it made one want to retch.
This was Ariel's seventh day at the Psychic Gym.
The surrounding walls were pure white, devoid of any decoration. This minimalist style was not just for visual focus, but also to reduce mental interference.
Ariel sat cross-legged in the center of the floor, sweat sliding down his temples and dripping onto the wooden floor, making an extremely faint sound.
He felt his brain throbbing now; it wasn't just simple pain, but felt like a thin, long steel needle slowly stirring inside his skull.
Psychic training is essentially the extreme control of mental power.
Tate and Liza stood not far from him, both with their arms crossed, their expressions not as relaxed as they had been in the past few days.
They had originally thought this guy who switched from being a Dark-type Trainer would at most only be able to learn a little bit. But reality slapped them hard in the face.
"Again."
Ariel gritted his teeth, squeezing these two words out from his throat.
In front of him floated three solid iron balls, each the size of a basketball.
At first, he could barely make one iron ball wobble; now, he could control three at the same time and maintain a relatively stable hovering state.
Liza narrowed her eyes slightly, staring at Ariel's temples.
Veins were bulging there, and every heartbeat was accompanied by intense fluctuations of mental power.
"His mental power reserves are too exaggerated."
Liza lowered her voice and said to Tate beside her, "For a regular Psychic, practicing for a month to achieve this level of precision is already the limit. He's only been at it for seven days, and he's a layman with zero foundation."
Tate didn't speak, just stared at the three iron balls.
As a Gym Leader, he had seen countless geniuses, but those so-called geniuses mostly had innate talent for mental power and had shown perception of objects from a young age.
Ariel was different. The feeling Ariel gave him was like a mechanic forcibly dismantling an engine, mastering this logic through constant trial and error and brute force.
"This speed of progress is truly infuriating."
Tate finally spoke, his tone carrying a trace of undisguised irritation.
Ariel heard their conversation, but he had no energy to respond.
All his attention was currently focused on the iron balls.
His mental power was like an invisible pair of hands; he had to precisely control the force, neither too heavy nor too light.
Too heavy, and the iron balls would smash into the ceiling; too light, and they would drop straight down.
This kind of fine manipulation was much more exhausting than commanding Pokémon in battle.
In battle, he only needed to give commands, and the Pokémon would execute them.
But now, he was directly overdrawing his own willpower.
"Withdraw."
Ariel exhaled a breath of stale air, and the three iron balls hit the ground simultaneously, making a dull thud.
He opened his eyes, his vision slightly blurred. A continuous week of high-intensity training made him feel like he had just been fished out of the water.
Tate walked up to him and handed him a towel. Ariel took it and wiped his face haphazardly.
"Your current level is enough to deal with basic Psychic-type interference."
Tate looked at Ariel, the initial contempt in his eyes replaced by a sense of scrutiny.
Ariel tossed the towel aside and took a deep breath.
These seven days were not only an improvement in his Psychic abilities but also a deepening of the connection between him and his Pokémon.
That feeling of mental power coursing through his entire body made his perception of his Pokémon even sharper.
He took out a Poké Ball and gently rubbed it.
"Krookodile, Gyarados, they're at level 49."
Ariel calculated in his mind.
During these seven days of special training, not only had he made rapid progress, but with the assistance of battles and Calm Mind, his Pokémon's levels had also undergone a qualitative change.
Krookodile and Gyarados were only a thin layer of paper away from Gym Leader Level; this level was already considered the top tier among his peers.
Malamar and Weavile had also steadily improved to level 47.
Greninja was level 45, and although Deino started late, it had reached level 30.
With this lineup, in any region, he would be qualified to challenge the League tournament qualifiers.
Ariel stood up and stretched his stiff neck. His joints made a crisp cracking sound.
"The training is over."
Ariel looked at Tate and Liza, "Since the special training is complete, according to the rules, it's time for me to state my request."
Tate and Liza exchanged a look, both wearing expressions of tacit understanding.
"Gym challenge?"
Liza spoke first, her tone carrying a hint of mockery, "Are you sure? This is a Psychic-type Gym, you know."
Ariel nodded, his tone calm, "This is the purpose of my coming here. Learning Psychic abilities was incidental; taking the Gym Badge is the main task."
Tate walked back to the Gym Leader's position, hands in his pockets, stared at Ariel for a while, and suddenly laughed out loud.
There was no mockery in that laughter, more of a helpless amusement, as if watching a show.
"Ariel, do you have some misunderstanding about your own team?"
Ariel was stunned for a moment, "What?"
"Look at your team."
Tate pointed to Ariel's waist, "Krookodile, Malamar, Weavile, Greninja, plus Gyarados. This team of yours is basically all Pokémon with the Dark-type attribute."
Ariel nodded matter-of-factly, "Yeah, what about it?"
"What about it?"
Liza took over, the corner of her mouth twitching, "Psychic-type moves are ineffective against Dark-type Pokémon. This is the most basic type effectiveness; you can't possibly not know that, right?"
In that instant, the training room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Ariel opened his mouth, and the tactical concepts he had prepared seemed absurd at this moment.
"So..."
Ariel asked tentatively, "You mean, we don't have to fight?"
"Fight what?"
Tate spread his hands and sighed helplessly, "You send a Krookodile out, and all my Psychic-type moves are immune. Even if the Pokémon I send out are higher level, in the face of type effectiveness, they'll be at a disadvantage. Are you here to challenge the Gym? You're here to sabotage it."
Liza added from the side, "Besides, we've seen your performance this week; you already have the qualifications to earn the badge."
Ariel felt speechless.
He had originally thought it would be a fierce battle, and had even mentally rehearsed countless times how to break through Psychic-type control moves.
And now they were telling him that because of type effectiveness, the opponent was just giving up?
"Then the badge..."
"It's yours."
Tate took a badge directly from his pocket and tossed it casually to Ariel.
Ariel caught the badge; it felt cold in his hand. He looked at the Gym Badge in his hand, then at the disgusted-looking Tate and Liza, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.
This was probably the easiest, and also the most absurd, badge he had ever received.
"Also, don't come challenging the Psychic Gym with this lineup of Dark-type Pokémon in the future."
Tate waved his hand and turned to walk out of the training room, "Although your mental power talent is good, this method of challenging is purely an insult to our professional standards. Bring some other types of Pokémon next time, and we'll consider giving you a real battle."
Ariel stood in place, holding the badge, watching their retreating figures.
He had originally thought there would be a hearty battle to test the results of this week's special training.
As it turned out, this Gym challenge ended in such a hasty manner.
He looked down at his Poké Ball.
This week of special training had turned him from a Trainer who only knew how to command Pokémon to clash head-on into a Psychic with basic perception.
Although he didn't get the badge through battle, the Confusion control techniques engraved in his mind were far more substantial than a badge.
Ariel looked back at the Gym's entrance.
"Then, farewell."
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