Ethan looked at Rocky. "Rocky, Dragon Breath".
Rocky Open it's mouth as Purple fire came out it, Pidgeot tryed to Dodge it but got it.
"PIDGE!". It cryed out
Pidgeot hit the ground, as it did, Rocky body tensed up again, the Poison doing damage.
Ethan didn't flinch.
Not when Pidgeotto slammed into the stone.
Not when the poison pulsed through Rocky again, making his massive body seize for half a second.
He had expected this.
Franklin's voice cut clean through the arena. "Roost."
Pidgeotto dropped again, wings folding in as that familiar glow washed over it, injuries sealing like they'd never existed.
Whitney groaned from the stands. "He just keeps undoing everything…"
"That's Flying-type gyms," Sabrina replied flatly. "Control. Reset. Attrition."
Before Ethan could capitalize—
"Mud-Slap," Franklin continued calmly. "Wide cover."
Pidgeotto beat its wings hard, blasting a storm of grit and dust across the battlefield. Fine particles coated Rocky's stone plates, grinding into joints and eyes.
Rocky growled, accuracy dropping—badly.
Kitsu swore under her breath. "That stacks…"
Franklin's gaze sharpened. "Aerial Ace."
Pidgeotto vanished into a blur.
"Rocky—!" Ethan started.
Too late.
The hit landed cleanly along Onix's neck, the guaranteed strike cutting through the dust and debuffs. Rocky reeled back, slamming into the arena wall.
Poison ticked again.
This time, Rocky roared in pain.
Ethan closed his eyes for a heartbeat.
This is the limit.
He opened them, sharp and focused.
"Rocky," he said firmly, voice steady despite everything, "you've done enough. Come back."
The recall beam wrapped around Onix, pulling him away just before another poison pulse could finish the job.
The crowd murmured—some relieved, some disappointed.
Franklin nodded once. "Good call. You squeezed maximum value out of him."
Ethan didn't answer. He was already reaching for another Pokéball.
Electric energy crackled faintly as he held it.
"Mareep," he said, stepping forward, "you're up."
The small sheep Pokémon appeared in a flash of light, wool already sparking as Static flared instinctively.
Pidgeotto hovered, wary now.
Franklin smiled again—this time, clearly pleased.
"Electric pressure," he said. "So you are thinking ahead."
Ethan met his gaze, jaw set.
"I told you," he said quietly.
"I'm ready."
Above them, thunder rolled faintly outside the open-air gym.
And for the first time since the battle began—
Franklin didn't immediately issue a command.
Franklin then hold his Pokéball. "Return".
The red light swallowed Pidgeotto, pulling it back into its ball.
Franklin's voice was calm, almost instructional. "Your Mareep is already damaged. Residual fatigue, first battle nerves… you're betting on tempo."
Ethan didn't deny it. He adjusted his stance instead.
"Yeah," he said simply. "I know."
A new Pokéball clicked open.
"Chatot, take the field."
The parrot Pokémon burst out in a flurry of color, wings snapping as it hovered midair. Its eyes were sharp—too sharp. This one wasn't here to trade blows.
Whitney leaned forward. "Oh no… that thing is annoying."
Sabrina nodded. "Uproar and Chatter. Mental pressure."
Franklin raised a finger. "Let's see who lasts longer."
Ethan didn't hesitate.
"Mareep—Thunder Shock."
Blue-white sparks ripped through the air, snapping toward Chatot in jagged arcs.
"Chatot, Agility."
The bird twisted impossibly fast, body blurring as the electricity barely grazed its tail feathers. Static crackled—but didn't lock in.
Franklin smiled. "Good power. Poor timing."
"Chatter."
Chatot screeched—an ear-splitting, discordant cry that felt wrong. The sound waves slammed into Mareep head-on.
Mareep cried out, stumbling back, eyes spiraling as confusion set in.
Kitsu clenched her fists. "That move is disgusting…"
Ethan exhaled slowly. Stay calm. Don't force it.
"Mareep," he said clearly, grounding his voice, "Thunder Wave. Wide."
Mareep stamped the ground, releasing a pulse of golden electricity that spread outward instead of forward.
Chatot tried to dart away—
Crack.
Its wings locked mid-beat, body spasming as paralysis kicked in.
The crowd reacted immediately.
"Ooooh—!" "Status trade!" "He baited the Agility!"
Franklin's eyes lit up. "Good. Very good."
But he didn't pull back.
"Uproar."
Chatot screamed again, the sound this time continuous, pounding like a sonic hammer. Mareep dropped to one knee, wool dimming as the vibrations tore through her.
Confusion. Damage. Fatigue.
Ethan clenched his teeth.
'Mareep won't last another exchange.'
"Mareep," he said quickly, "Power Gem—now!"
A sharp crystal of light formed above Mareep and shot upward.
Chatot tried to dodge—
Paralysis struck again.
The gem hit.
Chatot spiraled, slamming into the arena floor with a sharp cry.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
Chatot pushed itself up, shaking, wings unsteady.
Franklin chuckled softly. "So close."
Chatot screeched once more—
—and Mareep collapsed, wool flickering out as the Uproar finally overwhelmed her.
The referee's flag dropped.
"Mareep is unable to battle!"
Ethan recalled her immediately, jaw tight but eyes clear.
Two Pokémon down.
Noibat. Mareep.
Franklin's arm moved smoothly.
"Return."
Chatot dissolved into red light, the crowd murmuring as it vanished back into its ball.
Without pause, Franklin flicked another Pokéball forward.
"Swablu, return to battle."
Blue light burst open, and Swablu reappeared midair, wings beating gently as if the earlier Solar Beam exchange had never happened. Its eyes were calm. Too calm.
Ethan's gaze sharpened. Power Herb already used. Which means—
The Pokéball in his hand burst open.
"Gastly."
Purple mist spilled across the field, coiling and laughing softly as Gastly emerged, eyes glowing with mischievous delight. It spun once in the air, then drifted in front of Ethan like it owned the place.
Whitney shivered. "Still creepy."
Lyra whispered, "Still cool."
Franklin studied Gastly for a long moment. "A released Pokémon… and one with that move pool. Interesting choice."
Gastly tilted its head, grinning wider—then pointed at Swablu and stuck out its tongue.
Malicious to enemies. Confirmed.
Ethan raised a hand. "Will-O-Wisp."
Gastly's eyes flared.
Blue-white ghostly flames spiraled outward, drifting lazily—almost playfully—toward Swablu.
"Mirror Move," Franklin said instantly.
Swablu spun, its feathers glowing as it reflected the technique—
But the flames didn't behave like normal fire.
They curved.
Snapped.
Wrapped around Swablu mid-reflection.
The flames latched on.
Swablu cried out as burn set in, its body tensing as the fire ate at its stamina.
The crowd erupted.
"Burn on a Flying-type!" "That's huge!" "Mirror Move failed?!"
Franklin's eyebrows rose—just a fraction. "Clever. You delayed the ignition."
Ethan didn't smile. "Night Shade."
Gastly vanished.
Then reappeared inside Swablu's shadow.
A pulse of dark energy exploded upward.
Swablu screeched as the fixed damage tore through it, burn ticking immediately after.
Franklin clicked his tongue. "Roost."
Swablu dropped, touching down as healing light wrapped around its body—grounding itself, shedding the Flying-type advantage for the moment.
Ethan was already ahead of it.
"Shadow Ball."
Gastly's grin turned sharp.
A compressed sphere of darkness formed and fired point-blank.
It hit.
Swablu was thrown back, skidding across the arena floor, smoke and shadow trailing behind it. The burn ticked again.
The referee hesitated—
Then raised the flag.
"Swablu is unable to battle!"
A beat of silence.
Then noise.
Bugsy pumped a fist. "YES!" Lyra stared. "He dismantled it…" Sabrina nodded slowly. "Textbook control."
Franklin recalled Swablu, eyes now fully locked onto Ethan.
"Well played," he said evenly. "You didn't overpower it. You cornered it."
Ethan exhaled, Gastly drifting back to his side, smug as ever.
But Franklin was already holding his next Pokéball.
Franklin's arm moved again, steady and deliberate.
"Pidgeotto, return."
The Pokéball burst open in a flash of red light, and Pidgeotto shot skyward, wings beating hard as it climbed. The earlier damage from Rocky might as well not have existed—Roost had done its job too well.
Pidgeotto circled once, sharp eyes locking onto Gastly.
Gastly drifted back slightly, its grin thinning. This wasn't fear—but it was respect. Flying-types were annoying. Fast. Precise. And this one had already proven it could end fights quickly.
Ethan rolled his shoulders, grounding himself. Don't rush. Don't trade hits.
Franklin raised a finger. "Mud-Slap."
Pidgeotto dove.
A burst of dirt and grit exploded upward, pelting Gastly midair. The ghost hissed as the particles disrupted its form, its outline flickering as accuracy dropped.
Ethan clicked his tongue. "Shadow Ball—curve it."
Gastly spun, launching a dark orb that bent unnaturally through the air—
"Dodge. Aerial Ace."
Pidgeotto cut through the sky like a blade, the guaranteed strike slamming straight through Gastly's misty body. The ghost was flung back, reforming shakily as it steadied itself.
Whitney clenched her hands. "That hurt."
Sabrina nodded. "Dark resists Ghost. Ethan can't afford mistakes."
Franklin didn't let up. "Roost."
Pidgeotto dipped, landing lightly as healing energy wrapped around it again. Calm. Controlled. Like this was just another drill.
Ethan inhaled slowly.
Timing. Not power.
"Will-O-Wisp."
Franklin's eyes narrowed. "Quick Attack—interrupt."
Pidgeotto burst forward, slamming into Gastly just as the ghostly flames ignited. The attack disrupted the casting—
But not completely.
Blue fire splashed across Pidgeotto's wing.
Burn.
The crowd gasped again.
Franklin exhaled through his nose. "Persistent."
Ethan didn't give him time to reset. "Night Shade."
Gastly vanished and reappeared beneath Pidgeotto, darkness erupting upward. Fixed damage tore through the bird, burn ticking immediately after.
Pidgeotto staggered midair, wingbeat faltering for just a second.
Just enough.
"Now," Ethan said quietly. "Shadow Ball."
The attack slammed home.
Pidgeotto crashed to the ground, skidding, struggling to rise—then collapsing as the referee stepped forward.
"Pidgeotto is unable to battle!"
The gym erupted.
Bugsy stared. "He took down the ace…" Lyra whispered, "With a released Gastly…" Kitsu folded her arms, proud despite herself. He learned.
Franklin recalled Pidgeotto slowly. For the first time, his smile faded into something more serious—something respectful.
"…Impressive," he said. "You adapted mid-fight. Most challengers don't."
Ethan wiped sweat from his brow, Gastly floating back beside him, now wearing a smug, victorious grin.
But Franklin was already holding another Pokéball.
"Chatot," he said calmly, eyes sharp. "Finish this."
Black light exploded onto the field as Chatot appeared, eyes glowing with intent.
Gastly's grin widened again.
Mischievous to friends.
Malicious to enemies.
Ethan straightened.
"Alright," he muttered. "Last stretch."
Gastly drifted higher, its smoke-like body pulsing. The burn on Pidgeotto had proven something important—status worked. But Chatot was different.
Franklin didn't waste time. "Uproar."
Chatot inhaled, then screamed.
Not a sound—a barrage. The air vibrated as relentless noise crashed across the field, wave after wave. Gastly recoiled, its form distorting violently as the sound-based attack tore straight through it.
Ethan clenched his fist. No immunity. Ghost or not, sound still hits.
"Endure it!" Ethan called. "Shadow Ball!"
Gastly forced itself forward, launching the dark sphere through the noise. It struck Chatot square in the chest, knocking it back—but the bird recovered instantly, eyes blazing.
"Agility," Franklin said calmly.
Chatot blurred.
Its movements doubled, then tripled, afterimages overlapping as it took to the air again.
Whitney swallowed. "That's… fast."
Sabrina's eyes narrowed. "And Uproar prevents sleep. Ethan can't stall."
Franklin lifted a finger. "Chatter."
Chatot let out a distorted, unnatural cry—high, warped, wrong. The sound crawled into the mind instead of the ears.
Gastly froze midair.
Confusion hit hard.
"Gastly!" Ethan snapped. "Focus—Night Shade!"
Gastly twitched, darkness flickering—
—and then screamed as it slammed into itself, the confusion backlash tearing through its form.
Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. Too fast. I need control.
"Will-O-Wisp!"
Chatot darted in close, too close.
"Aerial Ace."
The guaranteed strike cut through Gastly before the flames could fully form. Gastly was sent spiraling, barely stabilizing itself before hitting the ground.
The referee shifted uneasily.
Franklin's voice stayed even. "Uproar. Finish it."
Chatot opened its beak again.
Ethan's eyes sharpened. Now.
"Shadow Ball—point blank!"
Gastly surged forward instead of retreating, ramming the attack straight into Chatot's open beak. The explosion of dark energy detonated between them, cutting the Uproar short.
Both Pokémon were thrown back.
Chatot skidded, feathers scattered, breathing hard.
Gastly hovered weakly, form flickering like a dying flame.
Silence fell.
Burn damage ticked.
Chatot wobbled.
Then collapsed.
For half a second, no one moved.
"…Chatot is unable to battle," the referee announced at last.
The gym erupted.
Bugsy let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "He actually did it." Lyra's eyes sparkled. "That was so cool!" Kitsu crossed her arms, smirking. "Told you he'd figure it out."
Gastly floated back to Ethan's side, exhausted—but grinning like it had just pulled the greatest prank of its life.
Franklin recalled Chatot slowly. He stood there for a long moment, then chuckled and shook his head.
"Well fought," he said sincerely. "You didn't overpower me. You out-thought me."
He stepped forward and held out a badge.
"The Zephyr Badge is yours."
Ethan took it, fingers tightening around the cool metal. His first badge. Earned the hard way.
Noibat stirred on his head, letting out a soft chirp.
Ethan smiled.
"Yeah," he murmured. "This… this is how it starts."
Later that night, the Poké Center was quiet.
Ethan lay back on the bed, one arm behind his head, the other holding the Zephyr Badge up to the light. The blue surface caught the glow from the ceiling, sharp and clean—nothing like the shiny trinkets people back home joked about.
His Pokéballs sat on the tray beside the bed, softly humming as the machine worked.
'That was just the first gym…' he thought.
If he'd been careless—if he'd relied on raw power, type matchups, or nostalgia—he would've lost. Cleanly. No second chances. No mercy.
He exhaled slowly.
'These gym leaders aren't set pieces. They adapt. They punish mistakes.'
In his old world, gyms were checkpoints.
Here?
They were filters.
Ethan turned the badge in his fingers, feeling its weight—not physical, but earned. Strategy. Timing. Risk. Losses that mattered.
A soft sound came from the side.
Gastly floated near the bed, no longer hostile or mischievous—just quietly curious. Noibat peeked out from its Pokéball, blinking sleepily.
Ethan glanced at them and smiled faintly.
"If this was the first test…" he murmured, "then I can't afford to play this like a game."
He closed his hand around the badge.
'This world doesn't reward confidence. It rewards preparation.'
The healing machine chimed softly in the background.
Outside, Violet City slept.
And Ethan—badge in hand—finally understood something important:
This wasn't an adventure he already knew.
This was one he had to earn, step by step.
Meanwhile, outside the Poké Center, the night air was cool and still.
Kitsu stood near the railing, the city lights stretching out below her. In her hands were two Pokéballs—one warm, one faintly hot. Tores and Ember. Her partners. Her strength.
She turned them over in her palms, over and over.
She had watched the entire battle.
Every switch. Every misstep. Every moment where Ethan had been one bad call away from losing everything.
Her twin.
The one who always looked calm. The one who planned.
And even he had struggled.
Kitsu swallowed.
She had planned to challenge the gym tomorrow. Walk in. Hit hard. Trust her instincts. Trust her Pokémon.
Now… she wasn't so sure.
"That wasn't normal," she thought. "That wasn't a beginner gym."
She leaned against the railing, shoulders tense.
Ethan didn't almost lose because his Pokémon were weak. He didn't almost lose because his types were bad.
He lost ground because Franklin thought ahead.
Movesets. Switch pressure. Punishment for overconfidence.
Kitsu clenched the Pokéballs slightly.
"I don't even use Withdraw," she admitted to herself, quietly. "I don't plan beyond 'hit harder.'"
Tores could tank. Ember could burn through most things.
But against that?
She closed her eyes.
For the first time since leaving home, doubt crept in—not fear, not panic, but something heavier.
Responsibility.
If she walked into that gym tomorrow the way she was now…
She exhaled slowly.
"No," she decided. "Not yet."
Her grip loosened, and she looked down at the Pokéballs again—not as weapons, but as partners.
"I need to learn," she murmured. "Not just fight."
The Poké Center doors slid open behind her, warm light spilling out into the night.
Kitsu straightened.
Tomorrow, she wouldn't rush the gym.
Tomorrow, she'd prepare.
Because if Ethan had to earn his badge the hard way…
Then she would too.
To be continued
Hope people like this Ch and Give me power stones and enjoy