The battle between Cain and Steven had reached its conclusion.
By this point, it could no longer be called a "single-core" or "dual-core" battle — it had turned into a true all-out clash.
Steven also understood Cain’s intent, and in his heart, a warm sense of camaraderie arose.
The spectators were so excited that their blood boiled at the intensity of the fight.
The final result was: Cain’s Aggron tied with Steven’s Aggron; Steven’s tagross defeated Cain’s Slowking; Cain’s Tyranitar took down Steven’s Steelix; Cain’s Gengar overca Steven’s Claydol; and Cain’s Blaziken, with Florges’ help, triumphed over Steven’s Armaldo.
Therefore, the final winner was Cain.
In truth, Cain could have won in a much more stable and elegant fashion, because the mont Steven’s Aerodactyl fell, his chances of victory had already reached ninety percent.
But he didn’t do that. He chose instead to drag the fight into a more open and chaotic showdown with Steven, reducing his odds of victory to around eighty percent.
It might have seed like a small difference, but to everyone watching, it gave the impression that Cain and Steven had fought as equals — a true battle between rivals.
The spectators felt satisfied, Steven didn’t feel humiliated or frustrated, and Cain still walked away the victor.
Whichever way you looked at it, it was a win on all fronts.
So when the battle ended and the referee announced the winner, Cain and Steven walked to the center of the field and shook hands.
They first bumped fists naturally, then turned it into a handshake — a scene perfectly captured by the nearby journalists.
The next day, headlines would call it "The First Clash of Hoenn’s Twin Stars!"
"Are you telling you held back on purpose? What’s wrong — you think I couldn’t handle being completely beaten by you?" Steven laughed.
Cain grinned. "Of course not. I just didn’t want a certain soone to lose so badly they’d end up crying... I’m terrible at comforting people, you know?"
"Hahahahaha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Both burst out laughing.
They laughed happily and sincerely, with no trace of hostility — as if they weren’t mortal rivals at all.
For them, that battle had been a true training match, a serious test, yes — but not everything.
"Good battle!" said Steven, patting Cain on the shoulder. "When it cos to strategy, you’ve got the edge right now. But don’t worry — I’ll catch up."
Cain patted him back. "I know. You’re the famous Steven Stone, after all. But just so you know, when I beco more handso than you... don’t co crying, alright?"
"Haha, you brat!"
After that, they bumped fists once more, closing the match in friendship.
"From now on, the stage is yours — don’t make us look bad," Steven whispered with a satisfied smile before leaving the arena with total poise.
Nothing in his deanor showed even the slightest frustration over his loss.
That composure only earned him more fans.
After Steven’s exit, the referee approached Cain, raised his arm, and shouted: "I declare the winner of this match — Cain!"
"Cain!"
"Cain!"
"Cain!"
"Cain of the Sandstorm! Cain of the Sandstorm!"
"Mr. Cain, I love you!!! I want to have your babies!!!"
"Mr. Cain, you’re so handso!!!"
"..."
At that mont, the entire stadium erupted in cheers. Even those who had supported Steven joined in congratulating Cain on his victory.
To everyone watching, the relationship between Cain and Steven was that of true friends — brothers in arms, with not a hint of falseness.
The sincerity of their smiles proved it.
The sensationalist rumors that had tried to pit them against each other crumbled instantly.
Online, the excitent was imnse: from that day on, Steven’s fans and Cain’s fans beca one united family.
The online atmosphere reflected a beautiful sense of harmony between both fandoms.
"Next, we invite the victor, Cain, to step onto the podium!" announced the head judge.
The crowd applauded without end as Cain walked from the battlefield to the main stage.
Everything was already set up there. Juan, Drake, Joseph Stone, and other high-ranking mbers of the Hoenn League stood waiting, smiling as they welcod him.
Cain was guided to the center of the podium.
Juan took the microphone: "I am Juan, President of the Hoenn League!"
"All of you know what the outco of this battle ans. Therefore... I hereby officially announce—!"
"Cain of Leafy Town is, from this day forward, the fourth mber of Hoenn’s Elite Four!"
"Let us welco the new Elite Four mber — Cain of the Sandstorm!"
Cain hadn’t yet chosen a specific type specialty, so Juan decided not to define it for him. Instead, he used Cain’s nickna: Cain of the Sandstorm.
If one day Cain chose a type, he could adopt that title as well.
But given the diversity of types in his team, assigning him a single attribute was unrealistic.
"Cain of the Sandstorm!"
"Cain of the Sandstorm!"
"Cain of the Sandstorm!"
The cheers began to unite into a single chant.
Juan leaned toward him and quietly asked his opinion.
The truth was, Cain had never thought about what title he’d have as a mber of the Elite Four. Hearing the crowd’s chant, an idea ca to him.
A single type couldn’t represent him — but his signature strategy could.
"Let it be Sandstorm," Cain said.
Juan imdiately understood, raised the microphone, and declared: "Let us celebrate the new mber of the Elite Four! Cain, the Elite Four of the Sandstorm!"
"Elite Four of the Sandstorm!"
"Elite Four of the Sandstorm!"
"Elite Four of the Sandstorm!"
In an instant, the na echoed throughout the entire arena.
From that mont, Cain officially beca the fourth mber of Hoenn’s Elite Four, bearing the title Elite Four of the Sandstorm.
Though he had chosen the na almost on a whim, it fit perfectly with the public’s perception of him.
Elite Four of the Dark Type? Elite Four of the Ice Type? None of those sounded as imposing as Elite Four of the Sandstorm. The only comparable title would’ve been Elite Four of the Dragon Type — but that was already held by his new master. He couldn’t steal that one.
"Elite Four of the Sandstorm" sounded absolutely perfect.
"Would you like to say a few words?" asked Juan.
Cain nodded, took the microphone, and said:
"It’s — Cain, the new Elite Four of the Sandstorm. From now on, you can count on ."
Then he handed the microphone back.
...
anwhile, in many places, people were watching the broadcast.
In Kanto, at Team Rocket’s base in Viridian City, Giovanni was watching as well.
When he saw Cain win and claim the title, he turned off the television.
"’Elite Four of the Sandstorm,’ huh? Not bad at all," he murmured with a faint smile.
"The Kanto League chose just this mont to shift the balance... taking advantage of the fact that Team Rocket can’t intervene. We’ll see who proves cleverer in the end."
(End of Chapter)
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