Violet City was alive with history.

  Al stepped out of the Johto League Registry building and into the crisp afternoon air, his boots tapping against the cobbled stone street. The city’s architecture was a mix of traditional Johto charm—sloping roofs, wooden balconies, paper lanterns—with occasional modern touches like solar panels or PokéNav charging stations nestled unobtrusively near benches.

  He let himself breathe it in.

  This place wasn’t just pixels on a screen. It was real. And now that he wasn’t sprinting through it like a speedrun, it was... beautiful.

  The Pokémon Center stood near the city square, designed in the classic red-roof style but with polished stone columns and a small Zen garden out front. Al stepped inside, greeted by the warm hum of machinery, soft lighting, and the ever-reassuring voice of Nurse Joy.

  “Welcome. Here for accommodations?”

  “Yeah, I’ll need a room for a couple nights.”

  She tapped a few keys. “You’re registered for the Star Badge Challenge, correct?”

  “I am.”

  She smiled. “Challengers get complimentary housing. Second floor, Room 7. Your team’s ready whenever you need them.”

  Al thanked her and took the elevator up.

  His room was simple—bed, desk, charging station, and a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the curve of the city walls and the distant outline of the Sprout Tower. He stood there for a long while, watching monks in orange robes sweep the temple’s stone steps, listening to the wind carry the faint clang of ceremonial bells.

  There was something humbling about it.

  This world wasn’t his playground anymore. It was ancient. Layered. Alive.

  (break)

  Later that afternoon, he took a walk through the city’s winding streets. He passed a marketplace where vendors sold berries, incense, and hand-carved trinkets. A group of schoolkids practiced tossing Poké Balls into hoops. He even spotted an elderly man teaching a Growlithe how to “heel” without commands.

  He stopped by the Sprout Tower gates. The tall pagoda swayed slightly in the wind—just enough to be unsettling if you didn’t know it was by design. According to local lore, the tower was built to honor the balance between Pokémon and nature. Inside, monks trained Bellsprouts not for battle, but for focus and harmony.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  A younger monk spotted Al lingering by the entrance. “You’re here to challenge the Gym, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” Al said.

  “Falkner trained here as a boy,” the monk said with a faint smile. “Still visits, some mornings. You’ll see his roots when you battle.”

  Al gave a respectful nod. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”

  (break)

  The sun had dipped low by the time Al returned to the Pokémon Center. He grabbed a simple dinner from the cafeteria—rice, grilled fish, steamed vegetables—and then spent the rest of the evening on his bed, sprawled out with his notebook and PokéNav.

  He studied Falkner’s profil. Falkner was known for speed, agility, and weather tactics. Flying-types, sure, but not just the birds from the Route 30 grass. He was the son of a League Ace. He had a reputation to protect.

  No substitutions. Six Pokémon each. Al would need endurance, versatility, and sharp reactions. This wasn’t about countering types—it was about knowing his team well enough to trust them, to cover for each other without backup.

  He ran through possible matchups in his head until sleep finally claimed him.

  (break)

  The next morning, the Pokémon Center buzzed with trainers, tourists, and local chatter. Al ate early, retrieved his fully healed team, and walked through the quiet morning streets toward the Gym.

  The Gym stood near the heart of Violet, its design inspired by a roosting falcon—elegant curves and a tall, circular dome. The front doors slid open as he approached, revealing a reception hall of glass and stone, with a large skylight that bathed the floor in natural light.

  A woman in navy League attire greeted him at the front desk.

  “Trainer Al?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Falkner is waiting. Follow me.”

  The corridor beyond was dim and quiet, with only the distant echo of his footsteps and the soft creak of rope bridges swaying above—an aerial battleground built into the ceiling beams.

  But the battle wouldn’t be in the rafters today.

  She led him into a central arena—a circular stone battlefield surrounded by high walls and a translucent dome that let in the sun and wind. Natural air currents swirled through the space. On the far side of the arena, Falkner stood alone.

  Tall and sharp-eyed, Falkner wore the blue-and-white robes of his lineage, though his sleeves were rolled back and his scarf tucked tight around his neck like a pilot about to enter a storm. His expression was calm, unreadable.

  “You’re the Star Badge challenger,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

  Al stepped forward. “I am.”

  “You’ll face my elite team. Six Pokémon. No switches.”

  Al gave a nod, pulling his first Poké Ball from his belt. “I’m ready.”

  Falkner raised his own. “Then let the wind carry your resolve.”

  They threw their Poké Balls at the same time—two arcs of light crashing against the battlefield.

  The battle had begun.