Ryder and Portia sped across the grasslands on the backs of their Arcanine and Rapidash, wind stinging their eyes, the distant silhouette of Saffron City shimmering ahead. If they could just make it inside, the League’s forces could turn the tide.

  But the enemy wasn’t giving them the chance.

  Flying-types pursued overhead—Crobat, Honchkrow, Pidgeot—bombarding them with ranged attacks meant to wound, not kill. They were herding them, not chasing.

  Ryder released his Pidgeot, and Portia followed with Noctowl. The two birds veered upward to intercept, locking into aerial combat, wings slicing through clouds and air alike.

  They pushed forward, hearts racing, until a dozen red beams flashed across the open field. Fifteen trainers stood waiting, forming a half-circle—blocking their path to the city.

  Ryder’s grip tightened on Arcanine’s fur. He recognized many of them—names and faces burned into the records of the old clans. The Razzo family. The Makis. The Tanren line from Johto. He had trained alongside some. He had bested others.

  “Damn you, Oak!” one of them shouted. “It’s all your father’s fault things turned out like this!”

  Ryder’s gaze locked on the speaker—Enzo Razzo, heir to one of the most bitter families left behind when Samuel Oak united Kanto and Johto under a single League.

  “You’re still blaming him?” Ryder said coldly. “Still clinging to a past that never deserved to last.”

  It had been nearly two decades since Samuel Oak became Champion, bringing the regions together and dismantling the power hoarded by the old bloodlines. He shared knowledge once locked behind the secrets of the clans. He made Pokéballs accessible to all through Silph Co. He gave the world hope.

  Now, that old world wanted revenge.

  Portia pulled up beside him. “We’ll have to fight. If we make enough noise, the League will come.”

  Ryder nodded. “Together.”

  They dismounted and released the rest of their teams. Blastoise, Nidoking, Alakazam, Rhydon joined Pidgeot and Arcanine on Ryder’s side. Venusaur, Lapras, Kangaskhan, and Rapidash stood beside Portia’s Noctowl—her Alakazam was still with Delia and the children.

  They weren’t on Phoenix’s level, but they didn’t need to be. They had experience. They had each other. And they had time to buy.

  The clash began like a slow burn—probing moves, feints, and defensive positioning. Neither side struck to kill. It was as if they were all waiting for a signal.

  Then it came.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A screech ripped across the air. Far behind them, from Phoenix’s battlefield. One of his Pokémon had fallen—and then another, louder, deeper sound.

  Nidoking froze. His eyes widened. Then he roared.

  He had heard her. Nidoqueen. His mate. Her final scream.

  Without warning, Nidoking slammed the earth with both fists. Fissure cracked across the battlefield, swallowing a dozen enemy Pokémon before sealing the earth above them.

  That was the spark.

  Chaos erupted.

  Attacks became lethal. Rhydon followed Nidoking’s lead, unleashing another Fissure that claimed several more enemies before he was brought down in a hail of Ice Beams and Focus Blasts.

  Pidgeot, Arcanine, and Rapidash fell next, each taking enemies with them. The battle raged in a storm of fire, light, and cries of fury.

  Nidoking pushed into enemy lines alone, roaring in grief, taking down as many as he could before falling.

  Meanwhile, Kangaskhan and Lapras took fatal blows without hesitation, their bodies breaking beneath the force meant for their trainers. They didn’t cry out. They simply stood, bore the weight, and died so that Ryder and Portia might live a moment longer.

  Soon, Ryder and Portia stood amid smoke and blood with only Blastoise, Venusaur, Alakazam, and Noctowl remaining. Alakazam attempted to teleport them away—but the air shimmered unnaturally. Dark-type interference. Johto techniques.

  “I’ll stay,” Ryder said. “Take Noctowl. Get to Saffron.”

  Portia’s lips parted to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced her. Steady. Final.

  They embraced. Just a moment. Just enough.

  “Take care of our children,” Ryder whispered.

  “I’ll see you again,” Portia said, though they both knew it was a lie.

  Noctowl rose into the sky, carrying Portia toward the city.

  Then came Enzo, stepping forward with two other trainers. Most of his allies were dead. By his side remained a Rhydon and a Sandslash. His cloak was scorched, face bloodied, but his eyes still burned with ideology.

  “You weren’t supposed to be this strong,” Enzo muttered. “I hope the elders managed to kill your father. Otherwise, this was a mistake.”

  Ryder stood tall, Blastoise, Venusaur, and Alakazam forming a wall at his back.

  “You ambushed the Champion? So that’s your plan? Kill the old, erase the new?”

  “We’re restoring tradition,” Enzo snapped. “Without Phoenix or you, there’s no one left to inherit your father’s legacy. No one to stop us.”

  “You’re wrong,” Ryder said. “Phoenix was the legacy. He came from nothing, and still became the best within our generation. New Champions will rise from the people—stronger than you, and freer than you’ll ever be.”

  Enzo didn’t respond. He raised his hand, and the remaining Pokémon charged.

  Ryder closed his eyes and reached for the bond he had with his Blastoise—a dormant Mega Evolution. There were no catalysts, no mega stone, no key stone. No safeguards.

  Only life. And death.

  “One last time,” he whispered to Blastoise.

  He poured his energy—his very life—into the bond. Blastoise’s body glowed as the transformation began.

  Mega Blastoise emerged, bellowing as cannons grew from its shell, eyes shining with raw power—and no restraint.

  It annihilated the enemy team. Rhydon, Sandslash, and the last trainer were vaporized in the blast.

  But the cost was final.

  Blastoise collapsed, its shell cracked, light flickering out.

  Ryder dropped to one knee, gasping—then fell beside his partner, his hand resting on the edge of the shell as darkness claimed him and he breathed his last.

  *

  Portia could see the gates now. Saffron—so close she could taste it.

  Then came the flash.

  An enemy Jolteon had followed after her.

  Portia never saw the shimmer of light behind her—only the scream of lightning.

  The Thunder struck Noctowl in full. The bird cried out and spiraled, unable to keep balance. Portia screamed as they dropped—crashing in a blur of feathers and steel.

  They hit the ground hard—just meters from the gates.

  The city was within reach.

  But silence took her.

  Her fate, unknown.