The air crackled with anticipation, the stadium nearly vibrating with the energy of thousands of eager spectators. The tournament's contestants marched into the colosseum's grand arena in a slow, deliberate procession, each group of fighters — from the seasoned teams hailing from distant cities to the brave individuals stepping up alone — drawing gasps and cheers as they made their entrance.

The sight of them, their proud postures, fierce expressions, and battle-worn uniforms sent ripples through the crowd. It was a spectacle unlike any other, the fierce resolve of the combatants mirrored in the roars of the audience. The cheers, chants, and whistling that rose from every corner of the colosseum was almost deafening, the sound a powerful force of its own.

The stands were packed, a wave of excited faces stretching all the way to the highest seats, leaving no space unfilled. Spectators from every corner of the continent, from the bustling streets of Gladiator City to the far-reaching shores of Maelstrom Isle, packed the colosseum with a contagious fervor. Not just the elite, but people from every walk of life, standing shoulder to shoulder in the aisles, eagerly peering over the edge of the stands or gathering around the screens set outside, watching every moment unfold in real-time. They were all here for one thing: the tournament, the ultimate contest of strength, will, and pride.

But to its host… So much more. Romulus, standing tall in his prestigious box overlooking the arena, couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. The spectacle below was everything he had hoped for and more.

To his right, Captain Leon stood in silent observation, his cold, calculating eyes scanning the competitors below. To his left, the elegant form of Talleon, headmaster of the Academy, his robes rich with symbolism, surveyed the crowd with a quiet, knowing smile. Romulus felt a surge of gratitude toward the academy's sponsorship, their investment helping make this day possible. It wasn't just the fighters who had shown up to play their part in the grand spectacle; the entire world had come together to witness it. The magnitude of the event was almost overwhelming, yet Romulus revelled in it.

The roar of the crowd filled his ears, a sound that had once been so familiar but now carried an intensity he had never experienced before. The moment felt monumental, and in it, Romulus realized just how far he'd come. It was his vision, and his hard work, that had brought this tournament to life. His heart swelled with satisfaction, but he knew the real test was just beginning. Yet as the cheers of the spectators washed over him, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that today, this event — his event — had become a resounding success.

He wished that Luminara, and their daughter Marilla, could have been in the box with him to share in this moment. The thought of their presence brought a warmth to his chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by a pang of regret. The roars of the crowds had proven to be too much for young Marilla in recent days. She had never been fond of the overwhelming noise, and Romulus couldn't help but feel a tinge of sorrow as he imagined her sensitive little face wincing at the sound.

Both he and Luminara knew that, in time, they would have to ease her into it more slowly, allowing her to adjust before she could experience the excitement of such an event. For now, it was just him… And of course, the ever-grounded captain of Team Warmachine and the stoic academy headmaster.

"I trust you've worked out a speech for yourself, Romulus?" Leon's voice cut through the noise, the Empoleon's steel-clad flippers folded across his chest as he surveyed the crowd with his usual stoic demeanour.

Romulus gave a low chuckle, his eyes never leaving the field below. "I've always played it by ear," he replied with a confident smirk. "Speaking naturally and plainly. Isn't that the better way to do it?"

Leon raised an eyebrow at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his beak. "I suppose," he conceded, though his tone carried the weight of someone who preferred a more structured approach.

Romulus grinned, feeling a quiet satisfaction knowing that this day, with its roaring crowds and the promising excitement of the battles to come, should have been a triumphant moment for him. But he had to remind himself not to revel — to remember what this tournament was really about… It was not just a commemoration, not just a great spectacle. There was more beneath the surface, a deeper purpose he had carefully cultivated.

This tournament was the beginning of something much grander, a stepping stone toward his vision. His plan had always been bigger than just this one day, and while the cheers of the crowd were intoxicating, Romulus knew he had to remain focused. He couldn't afford to lose sight of the real prize…

“I never could have imagined there'd be so many," said Volcan, taking in the sight of the crowds above, left awestruck by how many eyes were on them.

“I have to admit, I'm a little shocked myself." Luke added. “I know this is a huge event, but to have this many show up from all corners of the world is a bit overwhelming."

“I'm more surprised to see the Shogun and his people attending of all individuals," Katsu commented, looking at the private box where Lord Hizashi and his subordinates sat.

“As I said earlier, perhaps this is his way of stepping out of his comfort zone." Wade reasoned.

“Uh… Can anyone else see up into the box there?" Lashanne asked, sounding wary, “who's that, standing to Romulus' left?"

Behind her, Tristan turned his head to look up where the Delphox indicated. “What, you mean Leon?" Tristan asked.

“His left, not our left, rockhead," Lashanne chided him.

“Uh… Oh! Looks like a Delphox, but his fur's dark purple and gray… And, what's that he's wearing… Some kind of purple poncho with a compass on the front?" Tristan arched an eye ridge.

“An eight-pointed star… Oh shit…" Lashanne gulped. “Is there an… Eye, in the middle of that star?"

“Can't tell from down here, but, maybe?" Tristan asked shrugging.

Lashanne groaned. “Lunala drop the moon on me… When the hell did he get that?!" the Delphox asked through gritted teeth, a hint of venom in her voice.

“Get what?" Minato asked, both he and his son glancing at Lashanne curiously.

Lashanne sighed. “That's Talleon," she said, “he was the Deputy Headmaster at the Academy when I was there and one of the lead archaeologists. To say he and I didn't get along would be generous; he was one of the ones who tried to have me kicked out for insubordination… Multiple times." She glanced up at the box. “But if he's wearing that mantle… Well, looks like the stick-in-the-mud asshat got promoted."

“You mean that he's the academy headmaster now?" Volcan asked, overhearing the conversation.

“Yeeeup," Lashanne returned dryly. “Damn; I hope he doesn't recognize me. It's been years since I saw him, but I still feel like he'll be looking for ways to fail me, especially if he's a judge or something for this competition."

“If he's as smart as he is professional, he will hold his tongue." Kage commented. “If he does find ways to get into your head, you have a means to put him in his place."

“That I do," she said, nodding to Kage. “Thanks."

Kage nodded, his gaze never wavering except to occasionally glance up at Hizashi's viewing booth. The Greninja had a suspicion the Shogun had an ulterior motive for being here, but for now he had no proof to suggest otherwise. All he could do was keep an eye on him.

As the group waited, there was a sudden howl from the box. Romulus, stepping forward and letting out his call, earned the attention of the spectators, who gradually became silent as he called. When at last, the cacophony of voices had lessened, the Houndoom, lowered his head, taking a moment to collect his breath.

With that, he began to address the onlookers. “To the brave fighters who have enrolled in this competition," the Houndoom began, raising his voice as high as he could to be heard across the arena, “and the many generous spectators who are attending today. It is my pleasure to welcome you all here, to the first round of the Torolf Memorial Tournament!"

He let his words sink in around the arena and allowed the audience a moment to call out their response to him, before he continued. “As many of you are aware, this tournament was intended to commemorate two things. One, the passing of a legendary hero, an icon of the Rescue Teams and the Guilds. A warrior whose memory shall never be lost, for his many achievements in his life, and the lives he made better through his efforts. A Swampert who rose from nothing, and achieved greatness in his life – the heights of which many of us could only dream of."

“And also," continued the Houndoom, “to commemorate the fall of the Dark Crusade. A calamitous band of renegades that threatened our very ways of life, who tried to free the fallen god, Giratina, and who were thwarted by the efforts of fearless heroes - many of whom are present here today in this very arena! Let us give our thanks to my teammates, as well as Team Warmachine," at the name, Leon - standing beside him, raised his flipper, and the audience roared to life again, “Teams Phalanx, Valiant, Plainsrunner, Storm and Kama, the famous Red Talons, Blue Cyclones and Blaster Squad, and countless other volunteers from across the world!"

He allowed the audience to give their applause, looking down into the arena briefly to see how the competitors – a few in particular, reacted to the praise. He saw more than a few shifting uneasily on their feet, not accustomed to receiving such praise.

“And we must not forget either," Romulus went on as the applause lessened, and from the other special guest box, Lord Hizashi stepped into view. But he was not alone, for another figure levitated beside him; a lapin with a large cranium, held aloft by psychic power - King Calyrex himself, to the surprise of the heroes below, “the sacrifices of the brave warriors of Maelstrom Isle, and the Kingdom of Calygrad. Let us also give thanks to their mighty Shogun and King, who have both seen fit to honour us with their presence today!"

Another round of applause, to which Hizashi and Calyrex both raised their arms to wave in greeting, allowing the audience their moment.

Below, Volcan couldn't stop himself from gawking when he saw the pair in the other box. “I didn't know Calyrex was here!" Volcan hissed, barely heard over the roars of the crowds.

“I didn't either! There was no sign of any royal vessel or entourage at the docks!" Luke added, clearly just as surprised as everyone else.

“Not that we ever saw what his ship looked like," Lashanne pointed out, “he was brought here by Wade before."

“Heh, I guess even a king has a flair fer the dramatic. I respect it," Hank stated with a grin.

“I guess so," Sickle agreed.

As the applause lessened again, Romulus began speaking once more. “Once again it is my greatest pleasure to invite you all here today," he said, “but I must confess, there is something that has not been disclosed to you all… I would like to take this opportunity to make one other announcement!"

Volcan grinned. “Here it comes," he said.

“...Here what comes?" Caulin asked, tilting his head a little.

“You'll see." Luke said, smiling alongside his husband.

“I have told only a few others of a new project I wish to put forward. A project that the proceeds of this tournament, along with generous contributions from Team Warmachine, will be used to finance - a project that I know, in my heart, Torolf himself would have also supported. One that will change this land as we know it!"

With a nod from Romulus, Talleon produced his branch wand and held it out. A light flashed from the tip, and from below the box - previously hidden in the shadow, a massive canvas began to unfurl, falling over the wall below the box and revealing a continental map of the West, from the northlands to Princeport in the west, to Gladiator City in the far south, and many other communities and municipalities in between. But more telling, the consistently patterned black lines that ran between them, stretching across the whole of the continent.

 Across the arena, a second one was unfurled below the guest box of Lord Hizashi and King Calyrex, ensuring that everyone in the arena - both in the stands or down on the field, could see the map in its entirety.

Lashanne's mouth fell open as her eyes quickly darted across the map. “It's a-!" she gaped, choking on her words. “It's a cross-continental railway!" she exclaimed, her voice bearing the same incredulity that was written across her face.

“Romulus wants to build a railway that stretches across the entire continent?!" Neilla's voice was heard from further back in the row.

“That's… unbelievable!!" Doug hollered. “Is that really the same Romulus we first met years ago??"

“It would seem his outlook on the world has changed greatly ever since this war started…" Hageshi would remark, sneaking a glance over to Luke. “No doubt thanks to your influence, I assume…"

Luke just smirked and rolled his eyes away from the Greninja. “All I've done is just be myself. He's the one that changed."

Romulus noted the lack of cheers across the audience - some had excitedly praised the announcement of the project, but others - especially those from the West, had remained silent. “I know that many of you - especially those of you who live in this land, so wide and cruel, as I do, doubt if this project can truly succeed," Romulus went on. “In truth… I had my own doubts for years, just as you all are having now, wondering if I might be reaching too high. If my idea may be… Unrealistic, beyond achievement."

He sucked in a breath before continuing. “Maybe it is… But it doesn't change the fact that this," he stomped his foot, “is needed. The West was colonized millennia ago, with sprawling nations living in isolation all across the land. Few if any of those ancient kingdoms exist any longer, and even those that endured remain divided, because our only goal in a land like this has been to survive. But if we can look past that, and unify these lands, we won't just survive… We shall thrive! In ways never seen before!"

“This is what I have called the 'Western Unity Project'. I never had the opportunity to reveal this to Torolf before his passing," he spoke with lament. “But I know that he, more than anyone else, would have supported this project. The work will be hard, and it will take years to accomplish… But only if we can all come together will it be made possible! Only if we, as one land - as one people, can we achieve this! I ask of you, people of the world, will you follow me in this life-changing project, to unify the west and end our strife once and for all?"

The roar that followed was near deafening. Several of those with sensitive ears winced as the cacophony of voices - from the stands and the fighters alike, rose to a whole new volume, so loud that they could have been heard across the ocean. The cheers soon turned to chants, and hundreds of Pokémon began to repeatedly call out the hound of terror's name - not with fear, but with admiration.

“Romulus! Romulus! Romulus!" they called, again and again.

Volcan chuckled. “Well, he sure knows how to work a crowd doesn't he?" he asked.

“Well, before he became the big boss of the city, he was a Gladiator," Lashanne put in, crossing her arms. “Showmanship is part of the trade."

“It's working, to say the least. The people of Gladiator City are on his side for this project." Minato remarked. “Can't say the same for those that preferred things the way they were… namely the bandits and other outlaws."

“Minato's right," said Tristan, “Guys like those - like Sandjaw back in the day. They're going to oppose him. They'll do everything they can to make sure this whole project of his fails."

Volcan chuckled. “I say let them try," he said, “Romulus didn't come this far for nothing, after all."

“Plus, he has our support too." Luke added. “If we're in the area and they try anything, we'll be there to push back," he said firmly. “He's sinking a lot of money and resources into making this project a reality, and I'll be damned if I let common outlaws bring it to an end."

Luke didn't notice… But his words had an effect on Tristan, the Aggron's gaze darkening as he let the words sink in, taking them in and lingering on them for a long, drawn out moment…

When the roaring applause through the arena finally died down enough that Romulus could speak again, he resumed his announcement. “Now, with the reveal of my ambitious plan aside, it is time we go over the rules of this tournament," the Houndoom explained. “The first rule, is that weapons must either be replaced with non-lethal variants to be accepted to the battlefield, and weapons that cannot be replaced such as the bladed arms of a Bisharp or Honedge, if any are in this roster, must be modified with a coating to remove the danger of the blade. These are not battles to the death."

“The second rule, and this should be fairly obvious. No interference. Outsiders may not step in on the battle under any condition, or the fighter they assist will face immediate disqualification. Trust your friends to be able to handle themselves and know when they must step down. Third rule, failure to appear when you are called up will also be considered grounds for disqualification…"

He continued on with a short list of typical rules, until he raised his voice again to announce the importance of the last piece. “Finally, the last rule, matches are decided by random chance. The fighters, as they entered the colosseum today, were provided with random numbers distributed by the staff." He noticed a few people among the fighters shifting to glance at the papers that held their numbers in response.

“Any fighters who did not receive one must immediately report to the nearest guardsman or tournament representative to receive their number once this announcement is concluded. Shogun Hizashi and King Calyrex have generously offered their service in choosing the numbers and will announce their selections as they find them. As neither ruler has any representatives in this tournament, nor do they know who each number is assigned to, they hold no stakes, ensuring that there will be no bias in their selections."

Taking a moment to let his announcement sink in, Romulus concluded by thanking the audience for their attendance, and calling for the special guests to make their first selections, each of them reaching into a basket full of papers between them to lift out a number. Hizashi was first, with Calyrex picking the second immediately, and Hizashi announced his first as number fourteen.

A whoop from behind them made Luke and Volcan jump, and they turned to see Caulin pumping his fists in the air excitedly. “AW YEA!!! I'M UP FIRST, BABY!!!" He bellowed with an ecstatic grin on his face.

“Well how about that," said Volcan.

“Guess he got his chance to show off what he's learned first," Luke added, arching an eyebrow and smirking at the young Lucario cheering behind them.

Calyrex then called out his number as well, as number sixty-one. The group heard an ecstatic cry from somewhere nearby, but they couldn't make out where it had come from in the throng of fighters. When the two numbers were announced, Romulus called for all combatants to disperse, and for the first contestants to return to the ring in fifteen minutes.

So, the fighters orderly left the arena, with Caulin himself on the brink, knowing that he would get to be the first combatant for the entire tournament.

“Who do you suppose he's up against?" Neilla asked as she met Luke and Volcan, making their way up to the stands.

“No idea," said Volcan, “I heard someone else sounding pretty excited but I couldn't see where it came from."

“Probably someone just as eager to fight first in the ring," Luke commented. “Though it'd be hard to top Caulin's level of excitement and energy. Even after evolving, he still manages to bounce off of walls like he's eaten an extra large cake."

“Have you met our son?" Volcan reminded Luke pointedly.

“Yes, and he was once a wild pokemon. Caulin wasn't." Luke answered just as pointedly. “It makes sense for him to have a lot of energy to burn because he would have been burning it constantly."

“Speaking of, there's our seats," said Neilla, pointing ahead to where a familiar Flygon sat, along with Ignus seated right beside him. Sarth was the first to see them, cocking his head toward them to prompt Ignus to follow his gaze.

Ignus smiled and lifted his paw up to wave at his parents, panting happily as he gestured for them to sit with him. They came over readily, with Volcan taking the endseat to let Luke sit beside Ignus, while Neilla crossed to the opposite side to sit beside Sarth.

“So, guess it's not you up first, Captain?" Sarth asked.

“Not me," replied the Lopunny, allowing her disappointment to be heard. “Minato's son gets the first round, though we didn't see who he's fighting."

“I saw someone jumping when the number was called," said Sarth, “didn't get a good look but he had a head of red hair or something… Think he was quadrupedal."

At that Volcan perked up. “Wait… Red hair?" he asked. “Did you see anything else?"

Sarth hummed as he thought back, but it was Ignus who answered. “I saw him. He was short, had a short horn on his head, and he looked something like a small horse!"

Luke's ears flicked a bit, then he looked at Volcan with a knowing glance. “...Wait, that sounds like-."

“Oh my goodness," said Volcan, “even random chance has a sense of irony."

At that moment, a new announcer stepped in to announce the coming battle. By the depth of the voice, Luke suspected it was none other than Revane - Romulus' second in command, taking on the role. He couldn't see where the Dusknoir actually was, as the box where Romulus and Leon had been before sat vacant…

“For the first round of the Torolf Memorial tournament," Revane called, his voice seemingly coming from every direction, “through the red gate, number fourteen, Caulin from Port Azure!"

At the call of his name and the gate being dropped, Caulin ran out onto the field eagerly. He dashed out at full sprint before jumping and flipping a couple of times and landing on his feet, pumping his fists and hopping on the spot while eagerly awaiting his opponent.

“And from the blue gate, from the West Continent," Revane announced, “young protege to the legendary Swords of Justice…!" The gate was lowered as the announcement was made, and from the corridor behind it a loud galloping could be heard, “number sixty-one, Keldeo!"

Even as Caulin began to realize who he was fighting, before even hearing the name, his excitement waned just slightly. Then, as the equine warrior came charging out from the gate at full speed, Caulin felt his jaw fall open, watching in disbelief as Keldeo skidded to a stop at his place in the middle of the arena, twenty paces away from Caulin.

“Holy crap, Keldeo??" Caulin exclaimed, blinking a couple of times and rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. “You're competing too??"

“Indeed I am," Keldeo replied, “though I never in a hundred years would have imagined my first opponent would be you, Sir Caulin…" he flashed a smile. “It has been a long time."

Caulin stiffened a little, then rubbed the back of his head. “Jeez, you addressing me as if I were a knight is… well, I'm not really a knight. That's more my Dad's thing." He said absently while smiling awkwardly.

Keldeo smiled. “A knight is more than a title, Sir Caulin. It is also a badge of honour," he said, “If your father aspired to it, why shouldn't you?"

“That's just it though. Neither of us aspired to be knights." Caulin explained. “The only reason he's a knight is because he's Zacian's Blessed, and was knighted through the process. Me?" He then placed his paws on his hips and smirked confidently. “I just wanna do the right thing and look out for the little guy… and have some fun doing it."

Keldeo chuckled. “Well, regardless… You will always be a knight to me," he said. “You saved me from an evil that turned me into a monster… You did so at no small risk to yourself either. For what I owe you, the least I could do is acknowledge your courage, and willingness to act that you displayed that day."

But then, Keldeo's expression turned serious, his tone of voice changing to reflect this as he went on. “But… That does not change what we are here for," he said. “You have come to this tournament, just as I have, to prove your strength, and test your limits… Just as I have. Am I correct?"

With Keldeo's change in demeanour, Caulin's brow furrowed yet he still retained his confident smirk. “You're half right." He said, then hopped on the spot a few times before he got into his fighting stance, his paw brushing his nose as he readied for battle. “I'm here because I love a good fight… so you better gimme all you got, Keldeo, cause I want us both to enjoy every second of it!"

Keldeo's grin matched his. “As you wish, Sir Caulin… But know this," he began. “I cannot allow myself to lose here, on this important step to becoming a great warrior like my mentors… You now stand in my way on that path, and even if we are friends…"

Water exploded from his hooves, cascading upward and forming a whirling wall around Keldeo, obscuring him from sight before it dropped, and revealed him his transformed state, with the jagged, barbed horn and more pronounced fur and mane of his Resolute Form.

“I shall show you no quarter!" he declared, digging at the ground with his forehoof.

Caulin only grinned wider upon seeing Keldeo's transformation, his fur bristling a bit as the adrenaline surged through his body. “I wouldn't have it any other way." He said, his tone dripping with excitement. “Now stop talking and hit me already!"

Keldeo started to move, only for Revane to appear between them, bringing both fighters to a halt as the Dusknoir appeared and stared up at him in alarm. His arms were crossed, and his single red eye glowed ominously.

“I did not announce the start of the battle yet," he said, “I was letting you say what you wished first… But you do not start the battle before the announcer has declared it is underway."

“Y-Yes sir," Keldeo returned nervously, unnerved by the Dusknoir's very sudden appearance.

“Right, sorry. Just really eager to get started." Caulin added, nervously looking off to the side.

With that, Revane raised his hands high. “Combatants," he said, bringing them down swiftly as he disappeared.

“BEGIN!"

Keldeo moved the instant Revane was gone, propelling himself with Aqua Jet straight at Caulin, his body almost a blur as he moved. In that instant, Caulin's eyes shone briefly as he activated Mind Reader, accurately predicting when Keldeo would be in striking distance and deftly slid to the side and letting Keldeo pass by. As he dodged, he turned and swung his arm, firing an Aura Sphere as Keldeo started skidding to a stop.

Keldeo ignited his Secret Sword, striking the Aura Sphere out of the air as it rushed at him before he galloped at Caulin again, swinging his head to swing at him as he skidded to a stop. Caulin brandished his tonfas to block the attack, and the two exploded into motion, trading repeated blows and maneuvering around each other, leaving a circle in the sandy ground as they went.

Keldeo feinted another swing, before he pulled away and twisted, dropping onto his forehooves before lashing out with his hind legs, landing a Double Kick on Caulin. The first blow struck his arm, the other his stomach, winding him, and Keldeo rounded on him once more, rising on his hind legs and attempting to stomp on Caulin with his forehooves.

Caulin grunted and jumped back just enough to avoid the hooves coming down on him. He then rushed in while Keldeo was recovering, hitting him with his bone Tonfas, delivering hard, rigid strikes to his opponent, then performed a Low Sweep to trip Keldeo, then spun with his momentum and landed a spinning back kick into Keldeo's flank before he hit the ground. The well-executed combo successfully knocked Keldeo on his side, though the equine was quick to recover and roll onto his hooves again.

Caulin didn't miss an ecstatic whoop from the stands, recognizing it as Volcan's voice and the pride it carried. He grinned and pointed to the general area where Volcan was sitting, still keeping his eyes on his opponent before he took up his stance again, this time hopping on the spot.

Keldeo shook his head to clear it, straightening his posture and regarding Caulin, the determination in his gaze having not abated. “I knew you would be strong," he commented, “but I am not beaten yet… Let me show you something I picked up from the Academy up north."

At that, Keldeo shut his eyes, and a pale aura appeared around his head, becoming visible as it shone. Then his body seemed to relax, and when he opened his eyes again, the determination was still there… But the anticipation had lessened… Like he were calmer.

Then, Keldeo turned, rearing up on his hind legs again before stomping the ground, and jets of water exploded from his hooves again. Caulin's mind reader triggered as he concentrated on Keldeo, and identified the move; Muddy Water! The attack came forth like a miniature tsunami, rushing toward the Lucario, and getting bigger as it closed in.

Caulin shuffled back instinctively as the muddy water came charging at him. The wave was too wide for him to run around and running away would only delay the inevitable. He had two choices: jump over it, or power through it… and considering how large the wave has become….

“Gotta go through it," Caulin muttered to himself, taking a moment to collect himself, then he flashed his eyes open and stomped the ground hard with each foot in an attempt to root himself down, bracing hard for the impact.

The wave slamming into him proved even stronger than he expected… Standing against it felt like the weight of an entire lake had suddenly been turned against him, but at the same time he could feel the silt and grains of sand churning in the water and racing across his skin like pellets - not enough to hurt but certainly noticeable. Caulin held on despite this, the silt and sand scraping against his body wearing down his endurance little by little and some even getting into his eyes and blinding him, but at the same time annoying him… and over time, that annoyance gave way to anger.

Sparks erupted around Caulin as his anger started reaching its boiling point, until he finally snapped and let out a muffled, enraged roar before his power exploded around him, creating a white aura that burned brightly around him with enough force to split the wave around him and splash harmlessly to the ground. He then slumped slightly for a few moments, then sucked in a deep breath and straightened up before exhaling slowly, the power surging around him slowly being brought under control the more he relaxed, his eyes remaining closed.

Keldeo stared in disbelief, startled by the sudden surge of power from Caulin, struggling to process what he was seeing from the Lucario. Caulin shifted his step, and in a second he was next to Keldeo, arm wound back, then swung right to Keldeo's face, hitting him with enhanced force and sending him flying. Keldeo grit his teeth as he flew through the air, unable to collect himself before he hit the ground, this time landing on his side.

Mentally screaming to himself, he hastened to get back on his hooves, shaking his head and blinking the stars out of his eyes before he rounded on Caulin again. His opponent was rubbing his eyes with his paws to get all the grime out of them, blinking a few times to clear his vision before he sighed, his power vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He looked over to Keldeo and offered him a friendlier smile while lifting his paw toward him.

“Sorry 'bout that! You good?" He asked.

“Sorry abo-" Keldeo began to repeat, before his mouth fell open in disbelief. “How can you be so casual after that? Where did that power come from? It was like you suddenly became as strong as Master Cobalion!"

“It's… a little something I accidentally unlocked when I first evolved." Caulin explained. “I'm not really sure how it works. All I know is it comes out whenever I get really angry. Sol's been helping me to control it during my downtime."

Keldeo didn't lose the look of incredulity on his face, still turning over in his mind what he had just seen. Then, he shook his head, snorting, and faced Caulin again. “Regardless, this battle isn't over yet," he stated, lowering his head now, and contemplating his next move.

“Hehe, good." Caulin remarked. “I'm not done having fun yet, and I hope you still got plenty in the tank~!" He called out as he got back into his stance.

At that, more water gushed around Keldeo from below his hooves, making Caulin at first think he was about to use Aqua Jet again. But when he did not immediately come racing toward him, Caulin took a second take, and watched as another wave formed below Keldeo, but not of muddy water this time; the wave rose under him and carried him forward in a Surf just as large as the wave he had attacked Caulin with before, but higher this time.

Caulin wasn't going to fall for it a second time. He yelled and tensed up, calling forth his anger again and powering up once more. This time he ran forward toward the wave, summoning his Bone Rush tonfas again as he charged in, then leapt up as high as he could in the air to meet with Keldeo for a clash.

Keldeo, however, had expected this. He dispersed the wave and let himself drop, using the momentum from the Surf and the force of gravity to propel himself toward Caulin, igniting his Secret Sword once again and bringing it down like a guillotine upon the Lucario as they met in midair. Caulin raised his weapons over his head in a defensive manner, letting Keldeo's Secret Sword collide with him. He grunted as he felt the force behind the attack, so much that they both fell to the ground immediately after, with Caulin in a crouch as he struggled to keep his opponent's blade at bay.

Yet through all of it, neither of the young fighters lost their smiles…

With all of the strength in his legs, Keldeo pushed forward, the strength of the four limbs giving him greater leverage, and successfully forcing Caulin back, until - with a turn of his head, he forced Caulin's arm out, opening his guard, where he then spun himself and delivered another Double Kick to his exposed flank. One of his hooves managed to connect with Caulin's ribs, the other grazed his hip, both kicks causing Caulin to stumble and stagger back from the attacks.

He growled as he fought through the pain, then roared as he stepped back in and thrust both his paws forward, one above his head, the other below, striking at Keldeo with both his weapons at his face and chest respectively as hard as he could. Keldeo lurched from the double impact, losing his focus on his Secret Sword, causing it to dissipate and leaving him vulnerable.

Caulin capitalized on this, pressing the attack and striking Keldeo with fast, rigid strikes; strikes he had learned during his training to master the Single Strike Style. Each attack was strong, yet precise, ultimately ending with Caulin uppercutting Keldeo in the jaw to make him rise to his hind legs, then dissipating his weapons and tapping Keldeo's chest with the tip of his paw before shouting as he clenched it and thrust a one-inch punch right into his opponent.

Keldeo's eyes went wide as he was thrown back, first up on his hind legs before falling onto his back, coughing painfully and crossing his forehooves over his chest in pain. Caulin lowered his arm and stood tall, relaxing as he watched Keldeo; waiting for him to get back up. But for nearly a half minute, he didn't - though not for lack of trying. Eventually, he managed to roll himself onto his hooves, shakily trying to push himself back up…

But then, he collapsed, dropping heavily to the arena floor, and a bell rang.

“Winner!" Revane's voice filled the arena and the audience began to applaud. Some even began to chant his name repeatedly.

Caulin raised his arms into the air triumphantly, taking in the win and the chanting for a moment before he calmed down, then quickly moved over to Keldeo and knelt next to him.

“Hey. You alright?" He asked, not waiting for an answer as he gently helped Keldeo back up again. “You were amazing, man. That was a good fight~!"

Keldeo coughed. “Y-Yes… It was," he said, looking up at Caulin and smiling. “Well fought, S-!" he paused to cough again. “Ow… I think I took more than I was able to," he rasped.

At that, Caulin realized that he could feel a hot ache in his ribs where Keldeo had kicked him before. In the adrenaline induced by the fight, he hadn't noticed… but now that the adrenaline had passed, he started groaning a bit and taking a moment as he rubbed his ribs, noticing quite a bruise flowering from the injury. “I think we both took some hard hits. That's gonna be sore for a while." He said, then went back to helping Keldeo back up, though pausing whenever he felt his injuries acting up.

“Combatants!" Revane's voice filled the arena again, “Proceed to the medical ward for injury assessment! The next match announcement will begin shortly. Well fought!"

“Come… Let's go see to our injuries," said Keldeo.

Caulin caught a hint of sadness in his voice as he joined Keldeo, the two leaving the arena in unison out the same gate, where a guard waved to them. When they reached the gate, the guard explained that he was there to show them to the medical ward, if they didn't already know the way - which, of course they did not…

Meanwhile, up in the stands, Volcan let out a whistle. “Now that was a fight," he said, and then looked at Luke. “That surge of power he got reminded me a lot of yours… Did he learn that from you?"

“No, that was all him." Luke answered. “Apparently it's something he awakened when he first evolved. Lashanne filled me in on it a little, but from what I know is unlike my Aura Surge, which requires a calm, focused mind to access, Caulin's power was awakened by rage."

Volcan grimaced at that. “Well, that certainly explains why he started training with Sol," he said. “I knew he said it was because he wanted to learn control but I guess I just didn't quite put the pieces together."

“Well, when it comes to using anger as a tool, who better than to ask someone who's always angry, right?" Luke asked.

“True enough," agreed Volcan with a shrug.

“Man, that was an intense first fight." Ignus remarked. “You were right, Dad. I was not ready for that level of combat yet… but at the same time it looked so fuuuuun," he whined softly.

Volcan chuckled. “Your day will come, Ignus," he said. “But for now, try to learn all you can from watching. Caulin and Keldeo are both young warriors with a lot of potential yet, but you'll see just as many veterans here too. Understand?"

Almost as if on cue, two voices broke the silence then, announcing the numbers for the next battle; nineteen, and forty five. At that, Luke heard Neilla shift.

“Oh dang," she said, “Nineteen - that's Azrael."

“His opponent got the number forty five… Wonder who he's up against." Luke pondered out loud.

Nothing could prepare him for who it was, though. Moments later, the first gate was lowered, and Azrael stepped out; the Absol walked with his head held high as he crossed to the middle of the field and Revane introduced him. But when the second gate was lowered…

“And, as a special occasion we have yet another veteran of the battle with the Dark Crusade here today!" Revane called, “From Bluegrove and formerly of Port Azure's Team Valiant… Hank!"

Volcan, Luke and Ignus gaped in unison.

“HANK?!" Volcan and Luke demanded simultaneously.

“This soon?" Volcan added, “and he's against Azrael?!"

As if on cue, the Zoroark in question suddenly appeared before Azreal, grinning confidently as he started waving his claws at the crowd to get them all hyped up, revelling in the attention. In stark contrast, Azrael remained composed, standing stock-still as he waited.

As the applause died down, the heavy thrum of anticipation still lingered in the air. Azrael's voice cut through the fading noise, calm but with an edge of amusement. “First, Minato's son, and now us," he said. “I can't help but think the hands of fate are having a laugh at our expense."

Hank turned, eyes gleaming with curiosity, his tone light. “Eh?" He tilted his head, the smirk never leaving his face. “What's wrong with giving the crowd a little excitement? They're here for a show, ain't they?"

Azrael's gaze grew sharper, his expression unwavering. “Romulus claimed the matches were to be decided by random chance," he said, the words deliberate. “Sixty-four fighters. The odds of facing you this early… well, seems almost too convenient, don't you think?"

Hank shrugged nonchalantly, his smirk widening. “Luck works in mysterious ways," he said with a nonchalant wave of his paw. “I'm more focused on the fight right in front of me. The what-ifs don't matter."

Azrael's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he chuckled, a low sound that barely lifted the atmosphere. “I suppose that's true," he said, his voice soft, thoughtful. “Perhaps I've let the years harden me against such whims as luck. But… I'd be lying if I said it didn't have a hand in things."

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking with Hank's. There was no jest in his eyes now—only something quieter, more certain.

“Then, I wonder," Azrael continued, voice dropping lower, “is it good or bad luck to face me first, Trickster?"

Hank's chuckle deepened, but his eyes had sharpened too, reflecting the challenge. “What, ya don't think I can hold my own?" His stance shifted, legs tensing beneath him. “I was the trickster of my team, y'know. Don't think I'm over the hill just yet."

Azrael's smirk returned, but it was edged with something more calculating. “I don't doubt your ability, Hank. I've seen your tricks up close." His voice dropped lower, a whisper of something almost like respect in it. “But against me? You might find yourself playing a different game."

The Absol shifted, a subtle motion that spoke of readiness. He widened his stance, lowering his head in a stance that mirrored the tense stillness of the battlefield. His eyes gleamed briefly with an almost predatory light as his tail flicked once, sharply.

“Come then," Azrael said, his voice like the calm before a storm. “Let's see what you've got."

Hank's smirk only grew as he crouched slightly, flexing his claws, the anticipation in the air thickening around them. “Unorthodox is my middle name, buddy," he said, his voice now carrying a weight that matched the atmosphere.

The distance between them seemed to stretch, and yet, it was as if the space itself was drawing them together. The first move was waiting to be made, and the tension was unbearable.

It seemed an age to the two fighters before Revane called for the battle to begin, and Azrael tensed his body as he began moving to the side, multiple duplicates of himself appearing as he went; a Double Team. He created five clones, bringing the total number to six, and the six Absols charged at Hank.

“Ohoo! A battle of clones, eh?" Hank asked, grinning as he used his Illusion ability to generate double the amount of doppelgangers, then they all began rapidly changing places as they charged into the clash. “Let's see who finds who first~"

Much to Hank's dismay, however, Azrael wasn't fooled. The moment he created the clones, the eyes of his six duplicates fell on him - the real him, and two dashed straight at him, ignoring his copies and attacking with Slash from their curved horns. Hank was caught off guard at first when he realized his ruse had failed, barely dodging the first two attacks, then jumped up into the air to avoid another and countered with a sweeping Flamethrower attack from above.

The two turned out to be clones, immediately disappearing as his Flamethrower made contact, and Hank heard Azrael call out to him. “You seem to have forgotten that I can see seven seconds ahead in time!" he shouted as another - unsure whether it was a clone or not, leapt at Hank from below. “Your illusions may fool my eyes, but they cannot deceive my mind's eye!"

Hank jerked himself so that he dodged the attacker in the air before he fell to the ground, landing in a crouch and looking at the other doubles of Azrael for a moment. “Aight then… let's even the odds a little." He muttered, then he suddenly became shrouded in dark energy before throwing his arms out, casting Night Daze all around him and hitting all of the doubles of Azrael around him. He knew it wouldn't cause enough damage, but it would cause enough that it would cause them to disappear, and if his opponent was in the mix, his vision would suffer from the effects.

His plan worked, as the Night Daze swept over the Azrael copies, dispersing them, but leaving the real one; the attack scored a hit on him, but Azrael was - as expected, barely hurt. Unfortunately, they didn't stop him from rushing at Hank again, moving surprisingly swift as he closed in.

'Fuck, he's quick!' Hank thought as he flexed his claws and swung in retaliation , meeting with Azrael's attack head on.

They held the stalemate for only a heartbeat before Hank pushed the Absol back, then exhaled another cone of fire, intending to force him back. Azrael was moving again before Hank even breathed in, though, striking him with Sucker Punch, his paw slapping him like an uppercut and forcing his head back, missing him completely with the Flamethrower as it was shot into the air in a choked spurt.

Then, Azrael's horn ignited with green energy, and Hank immediately felt a sense of dread. “SHIT!" Hank exclaimed, instinctively bringing his arms up to block the incoming attack.

The Bug-type Megahorn cut across Hank's raised arms, slicing fur and flesh, and leaving the affected area feeling like they had been splashed with acid, causing him incredible pain. The Zoroark grit his teeth and stumbled back, his arms shaking heavily as he lowered them, looking at the cuts on his arms and fighting hard not to scream from the pain, instead glaring intensely back at Azrael while fighting through the pain.

“Dang!" Volcan exclaimed, looking over at Neilla and Sarth. “Sarth, I thought you were the strongest member of your team? I've even heard Neilla say so."

“I am the muscle," said the Flygon, “but that doesn't mean I'm the best fighter. Honestly, if it came down to me and Azrael squaring off… I don't really know if I could beat him either."

“All the times he and I have sparred," Neilla added, “well let's just say I'm still catching up."

That made Luke and Volcan look at each other, suddenly filled with trepidation on whether or not their friend had a chance against the Absol…

'Arceus Damn it,' Hank thought internally, struggling to figure out how Azrael was getting such a leg up on him so easily – even his ability to see seven seconds ahead of time wasn't enough… Seconds mattered in battle, certainly, and Hank knew this as well as any warrior worth their salt; in a fight, one could rarely afford to take their time.

Under such pressure, Azrael had to divide his focus between the present and future that allowed him to foresee Hank's battle tactics and plan accordingly, but several of their exchanges up to their point had certainly lasted more than seven seconds. 'I can't tell if he's predicting what I'm doin' in advance, or if his instincts are just that sharp. I can't get a bead on him,' he thought. Hank was so accustomed to having opponents with whom he could mess with their heads, but against Azrael that strategy wasn't working.

Azrael didn't let up either, immediately rushing at him again even as he thought, keeping the pressure on as he went for another Slash attack. Hank grunted and created another illusion as he leaned back, letting it take the hit and obscuring his vision momentarily. He used that opportunity to snap his claws, and suddenly Azrael was ensnared by some roots that suddenly appeared from under his feet, tying his legs together so he toppled over onto his side.

“Gotcha…" He growled, flexing his claws again and rushing in, aiming to strike while Azrael was ensnared by his Grass Knot.

Azrael had no time to get out of the way this time, even if he predicted Hank's attack direction - which he did, twisting his body as much as he could to ensure Hank's claws clashed with his horn, baring his teeth as they met. But in doing so, exposed his left flank, to which Hank exploited by using his other claw to damage Azrael with Fury Swipes, slashing at him over and over as fast as he could.

Azrael grunted with each hit, unable to do more than take several hits until he finally managed to pull one of his paws free, swiping at Hank with his claws and forcing him back, buying him the seconds he needed to claw himself free of the Grass Knot before fixing Hank with a freezing glare.

“Well played," he admitted, “But that shall not happen again."

Despite his claim, the gears in Hank's mind turned as he considered how he'd managed to get that advantage. That momentary lapse, even when Azrael deduced what Hank would do after, there had been a gap – otherwise, that Grass Knot would never have reached him.

“I wonder…" Hank thought out loud, narrowing his eyes slightly before he started to grin. “Might be a good time to test my new trick…" He muttered softly before addressing Azrael's earlier claim.

“Ya sure about that, pal?" He asked, his grin widening. “If it happened once, it can damn well happen again."

Azrael narrowed his eyes, but said nothing to refute Hank's words. He widened his stance, muscles tense and ready to move in an instant. The focused look on his face, followed by a shine in his eyes, led Hank to suspect Azrael was using Future Sight again.

'Just like when the kid uses Mind Reader…' Hank mused, 'he needs to concentrate on it and plan in advance… That brain of his works pretty fast, I'll give him that… But there's no way he'll be ready for this.'

He then shut his eyes and frowned, concentrating, summoning his powers from deep within his core, reaching for a level of power he had only tapped into a few times before – in training, for this very moment. As he stood, five exact duplicates of himself began to appear around the Zoroark, materializing into being and moving independently of one another, initially making Azrael frown in confusion, unable to fathom what he was seeing.

Then, Hank's eyes widened, and Azrael saw that the red sclera had taken on a new shine, as if fire had lit behind the orbs. “Here I come, Azzie," he growled, a d then all six of the Zoroark suddenly jumped forward, scattering around Azrael so they had him surrounded from multiple directions, with one coming down at him from above claws brandished.

Azrael tensed , using Detect to predict the incoming attack, and his body moved on its own, throwing himself out of danger.“Striking with the real one first," he commented, thinking he understood the strategy, “you're trying to throw me off. But it won't-"

He paused, sensing danger coming again, and narrowly avoiding a second one of the copies that dropped at him, realizing that it wasn't the same one that had attacked him first. His eyes darted between the illusory clone he had evaded just then, and the one he had previously dodged.

“What is this?" he demanded, using his Future Sight again and clearly alarmed by what he saw, “How are you doing this? Who else is here?"

Another came up from Azrael's flank, ready to strike once he was in range, but when Azrael struck it, it vanished into thin air, revealing itself to be a fake and momentarily distracting him. He suddenly felt Hank's foot slam into his cheek, sending him tumbling a few times and allowing the Zoroark a chance to exude more fire with his Flamethrower attack.

Azrael rolled back onto his feet after being knocked over and broke into a run, hurriedly evading the Flamethrower, trying to process what was happening…

Azrael was not the only one puzzled by the events either. “What's going on?" Volcan demanded. “Hank didn't fool him with the illusions before - did Azrael lose focus on his Future Sight?"

“No, I don't think so," said Neilla, narrowing her eyes. “But… He's running from each of those copies like they were real… It can't be Double Team – he'd see right through that and go straight for Hank… But, Zoroark can't learn Double Team, can they?

“No, they can't." Luke answered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Hank's illusions have only ever been effective at causing a distraction. They're not tangible, nor is he fast enough to give the illusion that he was." He went on, rubbing his chin with his paw.

“Yet from what I'm seeing… Azrael's acting as if those copies are real," added Volcan, narrowing his eyes. “I don't understand… How's Hank doing that?"

Ignus then piped up, frowning a bit after he sniffed the air a few times. “Hey uhm, Dad? Papa?" He asked, earning their attention. “You said Uncle Hank can't make his illusions real right?" He asked.

“Yes, why?" Luke queried.

“...Then why can I pick up six scents of him?" he asked, flatly.

Azrael found himself struggling to keep ahead of the clones. Each one attacked in a different way—flames, claws, and even dark energy, all coming at him from every angle. Despite his best efforts, the Absol was taking hit after hit. One of the Flamethrowers had seared his flank, and several claw strikes had left shallow gashes on his body. Each time he retaliated, another copy simply vanished, only to be replaced by another. He couldn't track the real Hank among them.

His mind raced, disbelieving, repeating to himself that this shouldn't be possible. Yet, here they were—tangible, real enough to strike him, but whenever he tried to attack, they would dissipate like any illusion. It was maddening. He was caught in a web of confusion, and the more he fought, the less sense it made.

The combat slowed for a moment, both Pokémon momentarily catching their breath. Hank panted heavily, but still wore that cocky smirk, a glint of pride in his eyes. “Ya know, they say a miracle only happens once, right?" Hank panted, his voice rough but playful. “So what do you call it when it happens multiple times?" He grinned, though his left eye twitched slightly, betraying the strain in his body.

Azrael's chest heaved with his own labored breaths as he narrowed his eyes, his voice laced with confusion and growing alarm. “How… are you doing this?" he demanded, struggling to make sense of it all. “This is… not possible. You don't have this kind of pow—"

His words faltered. His eyes widened as something shifted in Hank's posture. A cold dread slithered through Azrael's chest, and his voice broke with urgency. “Wait… What is—" He paused, horror seeping into his expression. “Disperse them! Hank, your illusions—disperse them, hurry!"

But the warning came too late. Hank's cocky grin faltered as confusion crossed his face, his stance faltering for a moment. Then, with a sudden, sharp cry of agony, his body went rigid. His claws gripped at his head in frantic desperation, staggering backward as he staggered, trying to fight the pain. Azrael's eyes widened as one by one, the clones flickered out of existence. But Hank's suffering was only just beginning.

Hank dropped to his knees, his body convulsing with pain. His face twisted in agony, his body curling instinctively, trying to protect his head from hitting the hard ground. He gasped for breath, his body shaking uncontrollably as the seizure overtook him.

From the stands, Azrael heard Hank's friends calling his name, and the shrill, frantic voice of Sickle rising above the rest. Without hesitation, Azrael's command was loud and clear. “I need a medical team out here, immediately!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the mounting chaos.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than two Pangoro bolted onto the field, supporting a stretcher between them. Behind them followed a Gardevoir, Gallia from Team Warmachine, who moved swiftly to Hank's side. They formed a protective barrier around him but did not attempt to stop the seizure, knowing that any attempt to force him still could do more harm than good.

As the convulsions slowly began to subside, Gallia moved into position. She held out her hands, and a droplet of water formed between her palms, glowing faintly with healing energy. She lowered it onto Hank's chest, the moisture spreading and forming a cool compress over his torso. The energy from the water began to soothe and heal him, calming his erratic movements.

“The seizure is passing," Gallia said, her voice calm but urgent. “Get him on the stretcher and take him straight to the infirmary. Quickly!"

The Pangoro obeyed immediately, carefully lifting Hank onto the stretcher and making their way out of the arena with swift urgency. Meanwhile, Azrael stood frozen, his expression a mix of uncertainty and deep concern, barely registering Revane's voice calling his name and declaring him the winner. As Hank was carried off the field, Azrael remained in place, his thoughts consumed with the unexpected turn of events.

Volcan's heart skipped a beat as the first sound of frantic protests reached his ears. He looked up sharply, spotting Sickle barreling through the stands, his movements a blur of panic as he shoved past startled spectators. The Sceptile's expression was a mask of sheer terror as he sprinted toward the exit, his path unwavering. The fear in his eyes sent a chill down Volcan's spine.

He didn't need to look at Luke and Ignus to know they were feeling the same gnawing anxiety. Their faces were pale, expressions tight with concern as they stood in unison, ready to move. Without a word, Volcan rose to his feet, his legs moving instinctively as his body followed the surge of dread coursing through him.

In a blur, they caught up with Sickle at the stairs, each step they took toward the exit only deepening the pit in Luke's stomach. He could feel the weight of the fear pressing in, suffocating, as they rushed toward the infirmary, their movements quick but driven by the overwhelming worry for Hank… Along with a fear that somehow, Luke had something to do with it…