The battle unfolded with terrifying intensity. Tyranitar moved with the ferocity of an enraged beast, yet its opponent was swiftly reduced to a helpless state under its overwhelming power.
Gordon's Swampert unleashed a flurry of punches, each strike carrying impressive force, but against Tyranitar, the attacks might as well have been raindrops pattering against a mountainside. The sheer difference in power was staggering—Swampert struck with all its might, only for Tyranitar to retaliate with a single devastating blow.
When Swampert crashed into the ground, Gordon had already thrown four Poké Balls onto the field, summoning his backup Pokémon. Yet, the surrounding crowd remained frozen, their attention locked onto Tyranitar's terrifying display of dominance. Even Gordon himself barely registered his own actions—his focus had been entirely on the battle, assuming that Sampert, with its type advantage, could at least hold out long enough to buy him ti.
But reality proved far harsher than his expectations.
By the ti Gordon finally tore his gaze away from his strategy and back to the battlefield, his Swampert was already embedded in a crater, motionless. For a mont, he wondered if his eyes were deceiving him. He blinked rapidly, as if the scene before him was so kind of illusion.
How?
How had it happened so quickly?
A single strike—that was all it took.
Swampert, a Pokémon renowned for its endurance, had been his partner since the beginning. It had weathered countless battles, often turning the tide with its resilience. Yet now, it lay defeated in an instant.
This wasn't just strength—this was sothing monstrous.
A cold realization settled in Gordon's gut.
He had already sent out his remaining Pokémon—Scyther, Hariyama, Machoke, and Electabuzz—while the crowd was still distracted. His plan had been to catch Aoki off-guard, to overwhelm him before anyone could react.
But now, faced with Tyranitar's overwhelming presence, doubt crept in.
Still, he had no choice. He had committed to this path. If he hesitated now, the consequences would be dire.
"Attack!" he barked, his voice strained.
His Pokémon surged forward, but their target wasn't Tyranitar—it was Aoki himself.
If they couldn't defeat the beast, they would strike at its Trainer.
Aoki, however, didn't so much as flinch. A faint smirk curled at the edge of his lips.
"Tyranitar," he said, his voice calm yet commanding. "Crush them."
The four opposing Pokémon were nothing compared to Swampert—weaker, despite their numbers. And against Tyranitar? They stood no chance.
Aoki didn't even feel the need to issue complex commands.
This battle was already over.
With a bestial grin, Tyranitar flexed its claws. The earth itself responded to its will—grains of sand and jagged stones rose from the ground, swirling around it like a storm of blades.
Stone Edge.
The first victim was Scyther.
The Bug/Flying-type didn't stand a chance. It darted through the air, wings buzzing furiously as it tried to evade, but Tyranitar's control over the rocks was absolute. Each stone hod in with terrifying precision, striking from impossible angles.
One impact.
Two.
Three—
Scyther plumted, its body riddled with deep gashes.
Out in a single volley.
The remaining three—Hariyama, Machoke, and Electabuzz—charged forward, undeterred.
Gordon's strategy was clear: avoid Tyranitar entirely. With two Fighting-types among them, they could theoretically deal massive damage, but after witnessing Swampert and Scyther's fate, he wasn't taking any chances.
But Tyranitar had other plans.
It wasn't about to let them slip past.
A battle between warriors should be fought head-on.
THUD.
THUD.
Two massive hands lashed out like striking vipers, clamping around the throats of Hariyama and Machoke mid-sprint. The two Fighting-types' eyes widened in shock—not just at the speed of Tyranitar's reflexes, but at the sheer audacity of grappling them so carelessly.
Did this monster not fear their strength?
Hariyama's fist swung out in retaliation, montum from its charge adding devastating force to the blow. Machoke mirrored the motion, its muscles coiling for a crushing strike.
Their fists connected—
THOOM.
Tyranitar's grip faltered for only a fraction of a second before tightening again.
Then, with a roar that shook the battlefield, it heaved.
The two Fighting-types were wrenched off their feet, their bodies lifted high into the air like ragdolls.
And then—
SLAM.
The earth trembled as Tyranitar drove them into the ground with enough force to crater the battlefield. Before they could even gasp, flas erupted around its fists—
Fire Punch.
BOOM.
The ground shattered.
Dust and debris exploded outward, the sheer force of the impacts sending visible shockwaves through the battlefield. When the smoke cleared, Hariyama and Machoke lay motionless in the wreckage, their bodies half-buried in the fractured earth.
Silence.
Then—
Gulp.
The sound of nervous swallows rippled through the crowd.
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