Chapter 104: I, Wallace, Am the Strongest Trainer in All of Hoenn!
JK uniforms. Lolita fashion. Black stockings, white stockings...
Does Mammon have a... thing for those?
Caitlin fell into a period of deep, private contemplation. She'd read somewhere that every person had their own particular preferences. Perhaps Mammon genuinely liked that aesthetic.
Which raised a question she hadn't previously considered.
Should she be preparing something along those lines?
She thought about her own style. Her coloring, her leg shape — she concluded, with characteristic precision, that white would suit her best. White stockings. Her legs were well-proportioned; nothing to worry about there.
"Stop thinking whatever you're thinking. They're for a guest."
"A guest?"
"You'll see soon enough. It should be entertaining."
Caitlin filed this under pending and nodded. If Mammon said so, that was sufficient.
He turned back toward May, who was watching them from the training yard with bright, curious eyes.
"May — I have something to take care of. Until next time."
"Ooh, okay! Take care — bye bye!"
She waved, cheerful and undemanding about it, though there was a flicker of genuine disappointment. Trainer's instinct had told her clearly that both of them were exceptionally strong. She'd been hoping to propose a battle.
Oh well. That was what traveling was for — unexpected encounters, random meetings, and the strong ones you didn't get to fight today would always turn up again somewhere down the road.
Jagged Pass.
BOOM.
Milotic's Hydro Pump landed clean — the crackling electromagnetic energy around Silvally simply detonated outward, and Silvally was thrown back and hit the ground hard.
"Silvally!"
Gladion's expression went taut. He called out before he caught himself.
Silvally pushed through the pain and got back up, giving him a low sound that meant I'm fine, don't worry. But anyone watching could see that wasn't entirely true.
Damn.
Gladion kept his teeth together. He stared across the pass at the young man standing opposite him — poised, effortlessly handsome, cape moving in the mountain air — and at the Milotic floating gracefully before him.
Silvally's AR System could adapt its type based on the inserted Memory disc. He'd specifically loaded the Electric Memory — a direct advantage over Water-type. Type advantage. He had type advantage.
Silvally still couldn't beat that Milotic.
"As a simple opponent, you're quite impressive — for Team Rocket." Wallace touched his fringe with a single graceful gesture and smiled with perfect serenity. "But regrettably, your opponent today is the magnificent me."
Every movement was choreographed. Every syllable deliberate. This was Wallace, and Wallace was always performing.
Gladion watched in expressionless silence.
This man is something else.
"I find it deeply lamentable that someone of your obvious talent would choose such a misguided path. But equally fortunate that it was I who found you here."
Wallace appeared genuinely moved by his own observation. He hadn't expected the cold-faced blond boy to be this strong — honestly close to Elite Four tier. Left unchecked, this one would become a serious problem for the League in a few years.
Fortunately, today was today.
"Allow me, as Hoenn's Champion, to guide you back toward the righteous path — in the most elegant manner possible."
He raised one arm slightly, voice taking on a lyrical quality, like someone reciting from a stage.
"..."
Gladion's face twitched once.
Why are all the strong ones like this.
First Bruno — the Kanto Elite Four's muscle-obsessed weirdo, who had given off a fundamentally wrong energy from the start. And now this: Hoenn's Champion, who apparently conducted conversations entirely with himself while maintaining maximum theatricality throughout.
Does the Pokémon League have any normal people in it?
Gladion was losing structural integrity. He'd always been curious about the League — Alola hadn't had one when he was growing up — but the reality was proving deeply strange.
The worst part, the part that was genuinely testing him, was that he couldn't beat this theatrical, self-narrating man. That was the unbearable detail.
"Lord Gladion — Lord Mammon responded. He's on his way!"
Courtney appeared at his back, her soft voice composed as always.
Gladion exhaled deeply.
Good. He just needed to hold until then.
Last time he'd ended up in handcuffs in the back of a police vehicle. If Wallace caught him in the same way — another set of handcuffs, another humiliating rescue from Mammon—
He couldn't survive it. Not psychologically.
He understood that Mammon would come regardless. But what kind of subordinate constantly needed his leader to bail him out? Gladion's pride was a specific and load-bearing structure.
"Oh? Reinforcements, then."
Wallace's expression didn't shift. He was entirely unbothered.
Today's objectives were simple: eliminate Team Rocket, eliminate Team Rocket, and additionally eliminate Team Rocket.
"Whoever your reinforcements are, they won't change anything. Because your opponent is me — Wallace!"
He closed his eyes briefly, the picture of composure.
Do they know who he is?
Lover of water. Master-class Contest Coordinator. Voice of Sootopolis. Former Sootopolis Gym Leader. Current Champion of the Hoenn Pokémon League — Wallace.
His fans also called him the Water Prince, though in his characteristic modesty, he found that a little much. Even if he had to acknowledge, looking at himself objectively, that the title was not entirely without basis.
Still. Modesty.
Gladion: "..."
This man's capacity for self-satisfied performance is genuinely historic.
"Oh? It sounds like Champion Wallace is feeling quite confident."
An unhurried voice, touched with amusement, carried in from somewhere to the side.
Everyone present turned.
A figure in white shirt and dark trousers was walking in along the pass. Behind him: a black-armored Pokémon, silent and immense.
"Lord Mammon!"
Courtney's relief was audible.
The Rocket grunts behind Gladion all let out collective breath.
"Hm?" Wallace looked genuinely surprised. Then — "You're with Team Rocket? And you came alone?"
He'd expected at least a squad. What arrived was one boy who looked like he was roughly old enough to have just started attending high school.
"That's right. First time meeting, Champion Wallace — my name is Mammon."
Mammon greeted him with impeccable courtesy, the kind that felt less like civility and more like someone from a very old family who'd been taught manners so thoroughly they'd become instinct. Nothing about him read as a criminal organization's operative.
"Another promising young person who lost their way. Team Rocket truly is a grave offense against the world~"
Wallace assessed him carefully. If this boy was functioning as reinforcements, and if Gladion and Courtney's body language meant anything—
He had to be stronger than Gladion. Possibly considerably.
"Young man — surrender your Poké Balls and turn yourself in. With your abilities, I genuinely believe that if you can change your ways, a remarkable future awaits you."
Wallace adopted the classic posture: arms crossed, gaze patient, tone of an experienced senior passing wisdom.
"That's very kind, but we'll manage our own futures." Mammon tilted his head slightly.
He was taking Wallace in properly.
The assessment was favorable. Very favorable, actually. Wallace's complexion was — remarkable. Finer and clearer than most women's. The bone structure was exceptional. The proportions were ideal: tall, slim, everything in its proper place.
Pfft.
"I've prepared some gifts for you, Champion. I hope you'll enjoy them."
"...I have fans among criminals?" Wallace blinked. Then, with the equanimity of a man who had fully accepted that this was simply what his life was like: "Ah, naturally."
He was Wallace. Of course he did.
"Even so — even a fan who happens to be Team Rocket cannot be excused. Regrettable as it is, I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you personally."
"Don't be too regretful — because you won't be arresting anyone today." Mammon's smile acquired an edge that made the air in the pass feel slightly different. "And I am going to make you genuinely famous across all of Hoenn, Champion."
He paused, letting it sit.
"You might even go viral in other regions."
"...???"
Wallace stared at him. Mammon's entire bearing had shifted — the pleasantness hadn't disappeared exactly, but something underneath it had risen to the surface, something that put Wallace's finely tuned instincts on alert.
Goosebumps. Actual goosebumps.
There's something very wrong with this person.
"I see. I'll need to be more careful than I assumed."
Wallace's expression settled into something appropriately serious.
"There's no point in that." Mammon reached into his belt and released two Ultra Balls simultaneously.
Two beams of white light.
"Meloo~"
"Mii~"
The Shiny Pheromosa materialized in a gleam of silver and white — one hand on its hip, chin up, its gaze landing on Milotic with a contempt so innate it seemed structural. Beside it, Suicune appeared, ice-blue and composed, watching the opponent with cool, remote attention.
"Spectacular~"
Wallace's professional instinct fired before anything else did. He stared at the Shiny Pheromosa and Suicune with genuine appreciation. As a master-class Coordinator, he could see immediately that both Pokémon had been developed with real care — the condition, the bearing, the quality of movement.
And then the second detail registered.
"The legendary Suicune of Kanto. You caught it?" Wallace's focus sharpened. He studied Mammon more carefully. "Who exactly are you?"
"Mammon. Team Rocket's Mammon." The grin spread wide. "I have a lot of respect for you, Champion — I haven't even deployed Mewtwo. I wanted to see what you can actually do."
He cracked his knuckles, unhurried.
"I hope you won't disappoint me too badly."
Wallace looked at him for a moment.
Then the serene expression returned, fully, without cracks.
"Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?"
He extended his hand. The Poké Ball opened, and a Politoed bounded into place beside Milotic, landing with a cheerful thud.
A random Rocket executive. Suicune or not — there was only one strongest Water-type trainer in the world.
"I am the strongest trainer on the soil of Hoenn." Wallace lifted his chin, his voice carrying the absolute conviction of a man who had never seriously doubted himself. "I am the Champion — Wallace."
"Young man." His gaze fixed on Mammon with total confidence.
"Don't misunderstand the situation. Standing before me — you are the challenger."
Just as he'd told Officer Jenny's commander.
Team Rocket?
Easy win, sweetheart.
☆☆☆
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