That very day, Peter was kicked out of the Pokémon Center by Nurse Joy, her face colder than an Ice Beam.
The reason was simple—
If he stayed any longer, it might trigger a mass vomiting incident.
"Phew… what a petty woman…"
Peter pouted as he packed his things and headed for the arena.
"It's not like I ant to puke on your skirt… so stingy!"
Although his face was still a bit pale, after several hours of… intense internal struggle, he had more or less recovered.
You puke enough tis, you get used to it.
Human adaptability really is terrifying.
…
Before setting out, Peter posted an update on SNS:
"Today's challenge: two consecutive wins at the Floaroma Town Arena.
Anyone wanna spar? Bronze tier."
The response was imdiate—and explosive.
"LET'S GO! Bug-bro's hitting the arena again? HYPE!"
"Brothers, assemble! Full squad stream-sniping Peter!"
"Uh… my flight's delayed. You guys let Peter wait for two and a half days."
"Floaroma Town? I'm literally there. Peter—see if I don't beat you down."
"..."
-----
Not long after, Peter arrived at the Floaroma Town Arena.
With the upcoming Pokémon Contest preparations underway, arena hours had been shortened—but that also ant more spectators passing through, which significantly increased battle rewards.
"I'd like to book two Bronze-tier matches," Peter said.
"Understood. Your numbers are 369 and 957. Please wait in the preparation room."
…
In the waiting area, Peter pre-equipped held items.
He planned to send Slakoth and Zorua into battle.
Both Pokémon had already maxed out their talent points—but lacked real competitive experience.
Zorua's innate potential was exceptional, making training extrely efficient.
As for Slakoth—
Pure grit.
It was the last to rest and the first to wake every single day.
Even Arboliva, who watched the sunrise religiously, couldn't keep up with it.
Peter noticed all of this.
And he wanted Slakoth to earn what it longed for.
🎵 "Pokemon—get☆daze! Dun-dun-dun…" 🎵
Peter's phone rang.
It was Teruhiko.
"Hello, Uncle."
"Peter! Great news! The professional testing on Rotom is complete—no functional deviations at all! It's confird that Rotom can integrate with a wide range of electronic components!"
"I've already filed the patents. Tons of companies are contacting to buy them—so offers go as high as 2 billion Poké Dollars!"
"Oh."
"…Huh? You're not excited at all?!"
"I am. Super excited," Peter replied flatly.
"Then what? We're still a long way from actually making money."
Teruhiko: "..."
Peter wanted results.
Cash.
Cold, hard Poké Dollars.
"Well… you really are calm. Anyway, I'll push R&D harder. If the scope gets too big, we may accept external investnt—I'll discuss it with you when the ti cos."
"The remaining 10 million Poké Dollars and your 20% equity stake have already been transferred. Check it when you get a chance."
"Got it~"
Peter hung up.
As long as the money was there, he didn't care.
It was all basically free anyway.
"Contestants 369 and 258, please proceed to the battlefield."
Peter stood up.
At the sa ti, a thin, pale boy rose beside him. His complexion looked almost sickly, as if malnourished.
"Hi, Peter. I'm Draak," the boy said with a grin.
"I'm your fan—and I'm here specifically to snipe you today."
Peter blinked. "Draak? A Dragon-type Trainer?"
"Heh… you'll find out soon enough~"
…
Soon, both trainers stood on opposite sides of the battlefield.
The comntator's voice echoed:
"This match features the prodigy known as Peter versus Draak, a Trainer specializing in Dark-types!
Draak debuted earlier than Peter—what kind of strategy will he bring today? Let's find out!"
"Please send out your Pokémon!"
Two Poké Balls were thrown simultaneously.
"Go, Slakoth!"
"I choose you—Honchkrow!"
[Honchkrow lv31 (Advanced)]
[Slakoth lv19 (Novice)]
"WHOA—!"
The crowd erupted.
"Is… is that a Slakoth?!"
"People actually battle with Slakoth?! And wait—if I'm not mistaken, that Slakoth's hind legs…"
The comntator trailed off awkwardly.
The arena buzzed with doubt.
Online, the livestream chat exploded:
"Can that Slakoth even fight? This has to be a joke."
"I hate to say it, but if it's disabled, shouldn't it just rest? Why embarrass itself?"
"Bro… fighting a flying type and it's crippled? What is this matchup?"
"Even as a ten-year fan, I'm kinda worried… just hope it's not too ugly."
"..."
"Laa…"
Slakoth looked around.
Not a single gaze held encouragent.
Peter's voice rang out, calm and steady:
"Slakoth, be confident. You are you. Other people's opinions can never decide your life."
"The path of the strong is always lonely. Compared to those who only lie around doing nothing—you're already far stronger."
"Laa!"
Slakoth's eyes changed.
Yes.
It wasn't fighting for those pointing fingers—
It was fighting for the boy behind it.
And to overturn its own fate.
"Even so," Draak said frankly,
"I still don't think Slakoth stands a chance against Honchkrow."
Peter smiled lightly.
"Then let's find out."
…
"Honchkrow—Thunder Wave!"
"Slakoth—evade!"
Crackling electricity shot forward.
Slakoth slamd its fists into the ground, launching itself upward—dodging while closing the distance.
"Focus, Honchkrow. Again—Thunder Wave!"
Peter narrowed his eyes.
"Then next—Thunder Punch!"
Midair, Slakoth couldn't change direction—so it chose to force the exchange.
Thunder Wave struck first—electricity coursed through Slakoth's body.
At the sa ti, a lightning-wrapped fist swung hard!
"CAW—!"
Honchkrow flapped its wings, rising just enough that Thunder Punch only scraped its belly.
"Good. Keep it up—Taunt!"
"Slakoth, close your eyes!" Peter snapped back instantly.
But fate was cruel.
Electric sparks flared again—
Paralysis triggered!
Honchkrow sneered, deliberately spreading its wings and exposing its vitals.
Slakoth's anger exploded.
A glow of Attack Up flared beneath its feet—
and confusion set in.
Taunt:
Enrages the target, causing confusion, but sharply raises its Attack.
Peter's mouth twitched.
"Damn… that's dirty."
Draak grinned.
"Heh. Learned it from you~ Still not as nasty as your bug exploits, though."
The crowd held its breath.
A crippled Slakoth.
Paralyzed.
Confused.
Against a stat-stacked Honchkrow.
And yet—
Slakoth stood its ground.
The real fight…
had only just begun.
--------------
T/N:
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