Pokemon: Rising From The Dark Chapter 572 - 823 - Killing a Chicken with a Butcher Knife

Aoki waved his hand sharply, the space around him distorting as he expanded the rift further, hurling the Void cadre through it without hesitation. The crack sealed shut behind her, leaving no trace of her presence. Only Robert and Kenan remained, their faces pale as they realized the severity of their situation.

The two Void cadres exchanged uneasy glances before summoning their Pokémon, though their confidence had already been shaken. Watching one of their own vanish so effortlessly had stripped away any illusion of superiority. Even if they had never been allies in the truest sense, facing a threat like Aoki made them acutely aware of how much weaker they were without numbers on their side.

Aoki clapped his hands together lightly, as if brushing off dust. The spatial slash had been far more efficient than any blade—clean, precise, and without the ss of a physical strike. The five glowing marks on his wrist pulsed faintly in response, a silent acknowledgnt of his thoughts.

Killing a chicken with a butcher's knife.

Now, only Kenan and Robert stood between him and total victory. Eliminating them here would ensure the collapse of the Void's remaining structure, leaving only the task of absorbing their remnants into Team Sky's ranks.

No longer holding back, Aoki retrieved two more Poké Balls from his belt, releasing Slowking onto the battlefield. With the enemy fielding eight Pokémon, he needed every advantage he could muster.

Kennen's expression twisted into one of dawning horror as Slowking materialized. The implications were staggering. As soone who had been monitoring Verdanturf Town's rapid rise, he knew exactly what Slowking's presence signified.

Robert, however, rely blinked in confusion. Unlike Kenan, he hadn't bothered to research the significance of Verdanturf Town's recent developnts. To him, it was still just another backwater settlent, unworthy of comparison to Goldenrod City. He had dismissed Kenan's earlier suggestions to retreat there as paranoia. Now, faced with Aoki's overwhelming force, he was beginning to regret his ignorance.

Aoki's eyes narrowed as he noted Kenan's reaction. The man's recognition only deepened his resolve—there would be no witnesses left to report back.

Only two of Aoki's Pokémon were widely known as symbols of his authority: Slowking, his strongest combatant, and Florges, the guardian of Verdanturf. While Florges might only be recognized by those who had studied Aoki specifically, Slowking was unmistakable.

Without wasting another mont, Aoki issued his commands.

Drapion lunged forward, leading the assault with brutal efficiency.

Kenan, who had once been a figure capable of intimidating Aoki, now found himself struggling just to hold his ground. Even with Robert fighting beside him, they could barely mount a defense, let alone a counterattack.

Though their Pokémon were stronger than Gibson's ragtag team, Aoki had brought his elite—every one of them honed to near-perfection. Slowking, despite remaining at the peak of the pseudo-champion tier, had grown far stronger in the past two months. The others had similarly refined their skills, their true power masked by stagnant levels.

This was Aoki's deliberate strategy: stabilizing their foundations now to ensure a smoother ascent to true Champion status later.

Such subtleties were lost on Kenan and Robert.

Slowking and Honchkrow hadn't fought side by side in so ti, but their old synergy remained intact. Years of shared training had ingrained an unspoken understanding between them, allowing them to coordinate seamlessly under Aoki's direction.

Five against eight should have been a disadvantage, but the battle was anything but even.

Even fighting wild pseudo-champions in the wilderness would have been more taxing. Those creatures fought with raw, desperate ferocity, unafraid of trading injuries for victory.

But Kenan and Robert's Pokémon? They had grown soft.

Comfort had eroded their edge.

This was the double-edged nature of trained Pokémon. In the hands of a dedicated Trainer, they flourished, surpassing their wild counterparts through discipline and strategy. But under a complacent master? They stagnated, their skills dulling from disuse.

Trainers like Professor Oak never let their teams grow lax. Even when retired from active battling, they ensured their Pokémon stayed sharp—through relentless training or seeking out worthy opponents.

Kenan and Robert, however, had spent their ti scheming for power, not honing their strength. Without a dedicated team of Breeders like Sakagi's, their Pokémon had deteriorated.

Aoki had sneered at Gibson's pitiful team earlier, but now he saw the sa decay in Kenan and Robert's ranks. Their Pokémon were stronger on paper, but the rot was setting in.

Eight Pokémon stood against him: two Excadrills, two Brelooms, an Electivire, a Hitmonchan, an Exploud, and a Slaking.

Only Robert's Slaking gave Aoki a slight pause.

Lazy by nature, Slakings conserved their energy until the mont of battle, where they unleashed staggering power in short bursts. This one, however, was only green-tier in aptitude, its level a re 51. Even at full strength, it wouldn't be enough.

Worse still, Kenan and Robert's Pokémon had never fought together. Their coordination was nonexistent—eight bodies moving without unity, their strength fragnted.

Aoki didn't bother with complex tactics.

"Slowking, restrain them with Psychic! Follow up with Psyshock!"

"Drapion, analyze their weaknesses—hit them with Fury Attack!"

"Honchkrow, Brave Bird!"

"Gengar, rapid-fire Shadow Punch!"

"Weavile, Ice Punch!"

Overwhelming force was all that was needed.

So of the opposing Pokémon were higher-leveled—55 or even 56—but their movents lacked conviction. Their eyes were hollow, their spirits broken.

They had forgotten how to fight.