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Now reading: Chapter 13: What are you even acting arrogant about?! from Pokémon:Son of Giovanni, a Action novel by NovelExplorer.

The entire manor went silent after Damian spoke.

"What did you say?"

Coming back to herself, Pluria's face turned ugly. She stared at Damian in disbelief and asked again.

What did he just say?

Pluria even wondered if she'd misheard.

"I was pretty clear, wasn't I?" Damian crossed one leg over the other and smiled lazily at Pluria.

"I want Team Skull to rge into Team Rocket. Did you catch it this ti?"

Insane!!!

Caitlin quietly tightened her right hand around a Poké Ball, ready to fight at any mont.

What Damian was doing now was basically taking a dump on Team Skull's heads—arrogant to the extre.

And clearly, this ti everyone in Team Skull heard him. Loud and clear.

"Damn!!"

"Arrogant little punk—Big Sis, get him!"

"I've lived twenty years and never seen anyone this full of himself!"

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, bastard?!"

Pluria hadn't even spoken yet when the Team Skull grunts couldn't hold back. A few hotheads had already thrown out their Poké Balls, ready to rush the cocky brat and beat him to death.

Chaos exploded in an instant.

"Such a racket."

Damian frowned slightly.

"Caitlin."

The quick-witted Caitlin understood at once. A blue glow lit her eyes.

A flash of white, and tagross slamd down in front.

"tagross!"

tagross growled, its vast psychic power surging out.

Psychic!

That powerful Psychic rippled into a shockwave, blasting Team Skull's Pokémon straight back.

Caitlin wasn't yet at her Unova Elite Four peak, but her ace tagross was already Elite Four-level.

Dealing with Team Skull grunts? Easy.

The violent gusts made the noisy scene even ssier, but once the Psychic ended, the manor fell silent again.

Every Team Skull grunt stared at the imposing tagross in fear.

"I can't stand useless mutts that only bark. If you still like yapping, then step forward, okay?"

Damian swept his gaze around, completely ignoring them, his smile still impeccably polite.

Damn it!! Did he just call us trash?!

A few Team Skull grunts with so backbone glared at Damian and stepped out.

"You punk! Who do you think you are, looking down on—"

The lead didn't want to lose montum, but he hadn't finished when—

"Not bad. Looks like you few are a tiny bit better than trash. Caitlin, leave them half a life. Breaking arms and legs is fine—the hospital can fix that."

Damian clapped, ever so generous, and reminded Caitlin.

"I understand." Caitlin nodded, lips curved in a bright little smile.

Hearing that, the hotheaded grunts exchanged a look—and took a synchronized step back, swallowing hard.

Wait, seriously? Half a life? That's brutal…

"Enough! Fall back."

Pluria finally spoke.

"Big Sis!"

They were clearly unwilling, but one sharp look from Pluria and they retreated.

"Well? Lady, have you decided?"

Damian ignored the small fry and looked to Pluria.

"Lord Damian, I admit Team Skull can't compare to Team Rocket. But demanding we rge into you the mont you show up—don't you think that's going too far?"

Pluria's voice was icy.

"And this is Alola, not your Kanto Region!"

rge into Team Rocket? Out of the question!

A person needs a spine. Team Skull had a na in Alola, at least.

"Yeah, this is Alola. And? What exactly are you getting at?"

Damian asked with interest.

"Lord Damian, a mutually assured loss isn't the outco you want, is it?" Pluria said lowly.

"Huh?"

Damian let out a questioning grunt.

Pluria's face and gaze grew darker—because Damian, after registering her words, started laughing. Out loud.

"Pfft—hahaha. My apologies, miss—you've got quite a talent for cody."

After chuckling, Damian smoothed out his expression, sat properly, and leaned back, giving the stormy-faced Pluria a slow once-over.

"I'd really like to ask you, miss—how did you ever get the idea that this pile of bottom-feeding small fry you call Team Skull could drag Team Rocket into a mutual bloodbath?"

He dropped the pretense entirely, sneering.

"You—"

Pluria snapped, and the surrounding grunts were fuming.

Who wouldn't be, getting called a pile of "rotten small fry" to their face?

"Stop. Don't blow a fuse just yet."

Damian raised a hand, gesturing for Pluria to calm down.

"No need for the 'you, you, you.' I'll be blunt: we didn't co to negotiate today. We ca to notify you."

Damian's tone was cool.

"Either surrender to us, or we level Team Skull right now. Those are the only two options."

Pluria glared at the overbearing Damian through gritted teeth. Two options?

She never expected that Team Skull, just a local gang ssing around on their little patch in Alola, would draw a man-eating tiger across the sea like this.

"Damn!"

"You punk, you think we—"

The crowd boiled over again—Team Skull grunts couldn't hold it in.

"Keep yapping and I'll cut out every last one of your tongues."

Proton's voice cut through like ice. A serpent's hiss followed as a deep-purple Arbok slid forward, cold eyes fixed on the grunts.

Silence!

They shut up at once—angry, humiliated—but Proton's killing intent was terrifying.

No one wanted to test him with their tongues.

"Lord Damian, don't push us too far!"

Pluria finally steadied herself.

"Surrender, or don't." Damian's voice was flat.

"I don't want to hear any more crap. Got it?"

Pluria's chest rose and fell. When had she—Pluria—ever swallowed this kind of insult??

This guy hadn't treated them like humans since he walked in!

How could anyone be this arrogant! Damn it!

"What are you even acting arrogant about?!" Pluria finally lost her cool.

"So what if you few are strong? Bottom line, it's just five of you!"

Pluria pulled out two Poké Balls, glaring at Damian.

They only had five. And on her side? Twenty-seven!

Twenty-seven versus five—the advantage was obviously theirs.

They'd win!!

"Laughable. So what if there are more small fry? In the end, you're still just small fry."

Damian's lips curled, half sneer, half smirk.

Proton and Caitlin remained calm. As for the two Team Rocket grunts in the back?

Yeah, they were purely there for ambiance.

Three versus twenty-seven—was there really any suspense?

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