Chapter 34: Battle Test


    I sat stiffly in my chair, the exam paper still trembling between my hands. Those jade-green eyes drilled into me; a cold gaze that seemed to pierce straight through me. Without thinking, I nodded to answer his question: yes, I was Aspen Meloc. The boy, whom I had barely seen before, gave a slight smirk—more mocking than friendly. I felt a strange pressure in the air, as if the invisible threads of energy I sometimes sensed with my Pokémon were warning me of an impending danger.


    “Niko must be weaker than I thought,” the stranger muttered, barely raising his voice. “He couldn’t defeat you in the blink of an eye, as he was supposed to. Maybe I should test his strength again to see if he’s still worthy of being my subordinate.”


    I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. The name “Niko” shook my mind, sending a shiver down my spine. Is this guy another clan heir? Before I could process it, he continued:


    “I’m Varel. If you manage to defeat Niko, I might consider letting you join my group. Tell your friends that as well.”


    My friends? Was he talking about Vera and Kara? A chill ran down my back at the thought. Vera would never “join” anyone—she didn’t even get along with her fellow Psychic-types. Kara, on the other hand, did whatever she wanted. I had no idea what this guy was planning. Before I could ask, Varel stood up gracefully and walked toward the exit leading to the battle test area, not bothering to look back.


    I watched him go, confused, my heart still pounding. I sat there for a while, trying to process what had just happened. About fifteen minutes later, to my surprise, the exam proctors returned with our written test results. One of them, a man with thick glasses, called my name and handed me my score sheet. “You passed—though just barely,” he said with a neutral tone. A massive weight lifted off my shoulders. At least the theory part was over.


    I got up, carefully pocketed the sheet, and hurried toward the battle testing area. There, several battle rings were set up at different levels. Some trainers allowed their matches to be open to spectators, while others preferred privacy. The goal in both cases was the same: to prove to the examiner—a professional Guardian—that you could control your Pokémon without causing chaos and that you understood how to handle dangerous situations.


    As I made my way through the arena, casting nervous glances at each battle ring to find my assigned one, I heard a burst of applause—or rather, gasps of amazement. I turned and spotted Varel’s teal-green hair in the center of an open stadium. His gaze was locked onto a roaring Rhydon. Floating in front of the massive Rock Pokémon was a majestic Dragonair, its body winding gracefully through the air. Its pale blue scales shimmered under the artificial lights, and a glowing pearl on its forehead pulsed with power.


    I watched as the Rhydon charged forward, using Rock Blast, its powerful legs propelling it toward its target. Dragonair opened its mouth and unleashed Dragon Breath, a violet-hued blast crackling with energy. The air trembled, and Rhydon barely held on for a second before dropping to its knees, completely spent. I noticed the audience staring in stunned silence. From what I gathered, Varel had already taken down all three of the Guardian’s Pokémon using only his Dragonair. Yet, he showed no satisfaction, no joy—his expression remained unchanged, as if this outcome had been expected all along.


    He’s incredible… I thought, a knot forming in my stomach. A sharp fear of failure crept in. If Varel could dismantle a Guardian so effortlessly, what chance did I have? But I forced myself to push that thought aside and sought out an instructor to request a private battle. I didn’t want to expose my battle style to a crowd, especially with the “poison tactics” I had become accustomed to using.


    A burly man in a green vest with a Pokémon League Federation (PLF) armband approached me. He had a thick beard and a friendly demeanor.


    “You’re Aspen, right? I’m Paul, Guardian of Viridian Forest. I’ll be your examiner for the practical test,” he said, extending his hand.


    “Y-yes, that’s me,” I responded, shaking his hand a bit timidly. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’d like… if possible, a battle without an audience.”


    The Guardian nodded without hesitation. “Of course. Many candidates prefer to concentrate without distractions. Follow me.”


    He led me to a spacious room with padded walls and a high ceiling, large enough to accommodate mid-sized Pokémon. Fluorescent lights illuminated the area. Paul shut the door behind us and gestured for us to take our positions at opposite ends of the battlefield.


    “This will be a three-on-three battle with the option to switch Pokémon whenever you like,” Paul explained. “The winner is whoever knocks out all their opponent’s Pokémon or forces them to surrender. Try not to cause excessive damage, alright?”


    “Understood,” I muttered, taking a deep breath to steady myself.


    Paul pulled out a Poké Ball and, with a swift motion, released his first Pokémon. A burst of red light gave form to a Tangela, its countless blue vines writhing like living ropes. I recognized it instantly—a sturdy Grass-type Pokémon known for its regenerative abilities and its arsenal of annoying status moves like Stun Spore and Leech Seed.


    Grass… Bug… Weak to Poison… I recalled. This was my area of expertise, though I wasn’t about to get cocky. I decided to start with Creepy, my Gastly.


    “Go, Creepy,” I murmured, throwing the Poké Ball.


    From the orb emerged my Ghost/Poison-type, letting out an ominous “Ghhuuuuh…” His gaseous body pulsed with a faint purple glow, and a wispy aura of misty darkness swirled around his face, giving him an eerie presence. Paul frowned upon seeing a Ghost-type.


    “Where did you even…? Well, I suppose I should expect surprises from Academy students,” he muttered before snapping back into battle mode. “Tangela, get ready!”


    We locked eyes. I knew that Tangela could be switched out if things got rough for it. But I also remembered that my Gastly had an ability that not many anticipated: Shadow Tag, which prevented direct Pokémon swaps. If everything went as planned, Paul wouldn’t be able to recall Tangela once it was trapped.


    “Creepy, use Will-O-Wisp,” I commanded firmly.


    “Tangela, dodge and counter with Vine Whip!” Paul called out.


    Gastly conjured a spectral blue flame that floated through the air like a wandering spirit. Tangela attempted to move its root-like feet to sidestep the attack, lashing out with two vines to strike Creepy and disrupt his focus. But my Ghost Pokémon was too fast—he floated effortlessly out of reach. The Will-O-Wisp weaved through the air like a homing missile and latched onto Tangela’s body. A faint red glow spread across its tangled vines—it had been burned. Tangela staggered back, letting out a pained “Taaan-geee…” The cursed fire didn’t consume it physically but inflicted continuous damage and cut its Attack stat significantly.


    Paul, visibly frustrated, reached for his Poké Ball to recall Tangela. But as he pressed the button, the red retrieval beam dissipated into nothing. I noticed Gastly’s shadow had stretched across the floor, interweaving with Tangela’s own, forming a dark tether.


    “Wait… What the…?” Paul muttered, baffled. “Why won’t it return…?”


    “Sorry about that,” I said quietly.


    Paul clenched his jaw. Tangela squirmed, trying to shake off the burn, and attempted another Vine Whip. Its tentacle-like appendages lashed out, but due to the burn, the attack lacked power. Creepy floated just out of reach, barely fazed.


    “Use Confuse Ray,” I commanded.


    Gastly’s eyes shimmered with multicolored light, unleashing a wave of disorienting energy. The moment it struck, Tangela’s movements turned erratic. It swayed in confusion, its own vines slapping wildly in every direction. Between the burn and the confusion, it was in serious trouble.


    Tangela groaned, its lianas twitching uncontrollably as the confusion took hold. Every time it tried to move, it tripped over its own vines, stumbling awkwardly. I could see the frustration building in Paul’s expression.


    “Dammit… Stun Spore!” he commanded, his voice tense.


    Tangela flailed, scattering a greenish-yellow powder into the air, aimed at Gastly. I felt my pulse quicken—if Creepy got paralyzed, it would be much harder to maintain our strategy. But luckily, Gastly floated high enough to avoid most of the spores.


    Still, a few specks drifted too close.


    “Creepy, pull back!” I called out.


    My Gastly let out a low “Ghhhuuu…” as he quickly ascended, his gaseous body avoiding the worst of the paralyzing cloud. Meanwhile, Tangela remained stuck in place, still suffering from both the burn and the confusion.


    It tried to attack again, swinging its vines wildly, but instead of hitting Gastly, it smacked itself. A loud whip echoed as Tangela staggered from its own self-inflicted damage. I bit my lip, hesitating for a moment. Was it cruel to let it keep hurting itself?


    No. This was a battle. And if I wanted to pass, I had to fight properly.


    “Creepy, finish it off with Hex!”


    Gastly’s misty form glowed with eerie purple energy before unleashing a sinister wave of ghostly power. The attack struck Tangela head-on, amplifying the burn damage it was already suffering. The vine-covered Pokémon let out a final groan before collapsing onto the floor, completely knocked out.


    Paul clenched his jaw as he recalled his Tangela. He didn’t look particularly pleased with how the battle was going.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    “I don’t like your style,” he muttered, his tone cold. He glanced at his Poké Ball before sighing. “Fine. Next Pokémon.”


    I exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. I had taken down his first Pokémon, but I could tell he wasn’t going to make the next rounds easy for me.


    Paul tossed another Poké Ball into the air. A large Fearow emerged, its sharp eyes glinting as it let out a piercing screech. “Feeeeh-row!”


    I winced at the sound. Fearow was a dangerous opponent—aggressive, fast, and with powerful physical moves. And the size difference between my Zubat and his Fearow was… staggering. But I had a plan.


    “Noizy, it’s your turn!”


    My Zubat flapped into the air, emitting a high-pitched “Zuuu-baa!” as she circled around the battlefield. Compared to Fearow, she looked almost tiny. But I knew that size wasn’t everything.


    “Fearow, Quick Attack!” Paul shouted.


    Fearow shot forward like a missile, closing the distance between them in an instant.


    “Noizy, Chatter!”


    Zubat let out a chaotic, nonsensical series of shrieks that filled the air. The sound waves hit Fearow just as it lunged, making it flinch mid-air. The massive bird faltered, its sharp beak missing Noizy by inches. I saw Fearow shake its head, clearly confused by the attack.


    “Now, Agility!” I ordered.


    Noizy’s movements became even faster, her speed increasing as she darted around Fearow like a blur.


    Paul frowned. “Fearow, Defog!”


    The large bird flapped its wings powerfully, creating a burst of air that blew through the battlefield. The move cleared the confusion from Chatter, and I could see the sharp focus returning to Fearow’s eyes.


    “Damn,” I muttered.


    Paul didn’t waste a second. “Fearow, Drill Peck!”


    Fearow’s beak started spinning like a drill as it charged forward. This time, Noizy had no time to dodge—the attack hit her directly, sending her spiraling through the air.


    “Noizy!” I cried out.


    She struggled to regain balance, her tiny wings flapping erratically. But she was still conscious. And I still had a chance.


    “Use Poison Fang!”


    Despite her injuries, Noizy let out a determined cry and darted toward Fearow, sinking her glowing violet fangs into its wing. Fearow screeched and flapped violently, shaking her off. But I could already see it—Fearow’s movements were slowing down. The poison had taken effect.


    Paul noticed too. His jaw tightened. “Fearow, Steel Wing!”


    The bird’s wings gleamed silver as it swooped down.


    “Noizy, Absorb, quickly!”


    Just before the attack landed, Zubat fired a green energy beam at Fearow, draining some of its health and restoring a bit of her own stamina. It wasn’t much, but it gave her just enough strength to keep going.


    Fearow’s Steel Wing struck moments later, sending Noizy crashing toward the floor. I held my breath, my fingers clenching into fists.


    Fearow landed, but it staggered, its breathing heavy. The toxic poison was doing its work, wearing it down bit by bit.


    I watched Fearow wobble on its feet, its eyes hazy. And then… it collapsed.


    Paul exhaled sharply and recalled his Pokémon. I could tell he was getting frustrated, but I had no time to dwell on it.


    Noizy let out a tired chirp and flapped toward me, barely able to stay airborne. I reached out and gently patted her head. “You did great,” I murmured before recalling her to her Poké Ball.


    Paul’s expression was unreadable as he grabbed his third Poké Ball. “Alright. This is my last Pokémon. Don’t expect this one to go down so easily.”


    The ball opened, revealing a Bibarel—a large, brown-furred beaver Pokémon with sharp teeth and a flat tail. It looked surprisingly tough.


    A Normal/Water-type, huh? Not the kind of opponent I was expecting.


    But I had the perfect Pokémon to face it.


    “Dozy, let’s finish this!”


    My Alolan Grimer materialized with a gurgling “Griii-mer…” His striped, gooey body glistened under the lights as he settled onto the battlefield.


    Paul smirked slightly. “Bibarel, Defense Curl!”


    The beaver Pokémon tucked its head down and braced itself, its body glowing slightly as it hardened its defenses. I frowned, knowing that this would make it tougher to bring down.


    “Dozy, Stockpile!”


    Grimer tensed, gathering energy within itself. A faint glow pulsed from its body as it boosted its durability.


    Paul narrowed his eyes. “Bibarel, Rollout!”


    Oh, no.


    Bibarel curled up into a ball and started rolling forward at high speed. The attack hit Dozy hard, knocking him backward and leaving behind a trail of slime. And I knew the worst part—Rollout’s power doubled with each hit. If I didn’t stop it soon, it would crush Dozy in no time.


    “Dozy, hang in there! Toxic!”


    My Grimer spat out a glob of dark purple sludge, striking Bibarel in the side. The poison seeped into its fur, and I knew that with every passing second, it would take more and more damage.


    But Bibarel kept rolling. The second hit was even stronger, sending Dozy sliding across the floor. My heart pounded. He wouldn’t be able to take another full-powered strike.


    “One more time, Stockpile!”


    Dozy gathered even more energy, his body toughening up further. But I could see Paul grinning—he knew that if Bibarel landed the next hit, it would be over.


    “Bibarel, Rollout, one more time!”


    The beaver spun forward, picking up even more speed.


    “Now, Spit Up!” I shouted.


    All of the energy Dozy had stored up was unleashed in a powerful blast of dark, corrosive sludge. The attack slammed into Bibarel just before it could land its final Rollout. The impact sent the beaver flying backward, rolling uncontrollably before crashing into the wall.


    When the dust settled, Bibarel was out cold.


    Paul’s expression darkened as he silently recalled his Pokémon. He exhaled through his nose, clearly frustrated.


    “…You win.”


    I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.


    I had passed the test.


    Paul took a moment to compose himself, rolling the Poké Ball of his defeated Bibarel in his palm before finally tucking it away. His expression was difficult to read, but there was no mistaking the irritation in his sharp gaze as he turned back toward me.


    “You pass,” he said, but there was no praise in his tone.


    I swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel relieved or uneasy. I had expected to feel a rush of satisfaction after winning all three battles, but Paul’s demeanor made me hesitate.


    “You fight dirty,” he continued, crossing his arms. “Burns, confusion, toxic damage, energy-draining tactics… I get that every trainer has their own style, but yours? It’s exactly what I’d expect from a Poison-type specialist.”


    I clenched my jaw at his words.


    “I don’t mean that as a compliment,” he added.


    A cold weight settled in my stomach. I had heard it before—the way people talked about trainers who specialized in Poison-types, calling them underhanded, unfair, untrustworthy. My grandmother had warned me about this, about the reputation people like Koga had earned, but hearing it firsthand stung more than I expected.


    Still, I didn’t argue. I just bowed my head slightly.


    “Sorry if it was unpleasant,” I muttered.


    Paul scoffed. “It doesn’t matter what I think. The only thing that matters is that you won. Your control over your Pokémon is… adequate, if nothing else.”


    He turned away without another word, heading toward the exit of the private battle chamber.


    I stood frozen in place for a moment, processing everything. Despite his harsh words, I had passed. I had officially earned my Guardian Level Certification. That meant I was recognized as capable of handling Pokémon of three-star danger levels, including my own Gastly, and I was now authorized to keep a full team of four Pokémon.


    I should have felt proud.


    And yet, Paul’s words left a bitter aftertaste in my mind.


    Was I really just a cheap, underhanded fighter? Were Poison-type trainers always going to be seen this way?


    With a deep sigh, I recalled Dozy into his Poké Ball and left the chamber.


    I walked through the academy hallways, my fingers tightly gripping Dozy’s Poké Ball. The battle that had earned me the Guardian rank had been easy—for the first time, I had a match that wasn’t a life-or-death struggle. But then, I thought about how Dozy had acted. I had never seen my Alolan Grimer behave like that before. The image of Dozy latching onto Bibarel, as if trying to absorb something from it, was still fresh in my mind, and it made my skin crawl.


    I had heard stories about the ability Power of Alchemy, which certain Alolan Grimer were said to possess. My grandmother had told me they could inherit or imitate traits from fallen opponents or allies, but I had never actually seen it in action. Now, after watching Dozy go almost feral at the end of the battle, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to dig too deeply into that power.


    I tried to distract myself by checking messages on my Pokédex. I opened the family chat—where only my mom, my grandmother, and I were members—and typed:


    Aspen: “I passed the Guardian test. 3/3 wins. I can now register up to 4 Pokémon and keep Creepy, even though it has a three-star danger rating.”


    Not even a minute later, I got two responses:


    Mom: “Congratulations, sweetie!!! I knew you could do it! ?”


    Grandma Julia: “Good. But don’t get cocky. You’re still too inexperienced and weak.”


    I sighed. Even through text, my grandmother was the same as ever—lots of skepticism, few warm congratulations.


    Still, I couldn’t help but smile a little. At least someone was happy for me.


    I put away my Pokédex and stepped into one of the inner courtyards to clear my head. It was a quiet area, with wooden benches and a few young trees the academy had planted. Only a couple of students passed by in the distance, each minding their own business. I took a seat and just sat there, taking a deep breath. “I did it… I’m a Guardian now.” The thought became more real with every passing second.


    Without thinking too much, I rolled Noizy’s Poké Ball (my Zubat) between my fingers, remembering how brave she had been during the test. The same went for Creepy and Dozy. Despite the questionable tactics I had used, I was grateful to have them on my team.


    I got lost in those thoughts for a while, wondering what would come next. Missions? Travel outside the academy? More responsibilities?


    However, a tingling at the back of my neck warned me that I wasn’t alone.


    I felt two familiar presences—that strange mix of a cold, psychic aura and a burning, battle-hardened energy that made my stomach churn.


    I looked up and saw them.


    Vera and Kara.


    They were in the upper-level corridor, leaning over the railing. The sunlight highlighted their features.


    Vera, with her long dark red hair, was floating a few centimeters above the ground, as if gravity meant nothing to her. Her magenta eyes were cold and piercing, analyzing me with an unreadable expression. Even from a distance, she radiated an overwhelming, elegant intensity.


    Kara, on the other hand, was half-hanging from the railing with one hand, her strong arm holding her up effortlessly. Her tan skin gleamed in the sun, and her sky-blue eyes burned with a mix of frustration and curiosity. She was taller than most people her age, and she carried that fierce, untamed energy that always defined her.


    Under different circumstances, I might have approached them to ask what they were doing.


    But after what happened on the beach, after what I considered a “training session” that bordered on torture, I had no desire to speak to them. Every time I saw them, I felt a wave of frustration and anger rise within me.


    So, in a moment of pride—or maybe just stubbornness—I made a decision:


    I ignored them completely.


    I stood up, directed my gaze toward the dormitory hallways, and walked out of the courtyard without looking back.


    For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was in control of my own life.


    I walked a good distance down the hallway, focusing on how happy I was about my recent victory. Paul, the Forest Guardian, and his disapproval didn’t matter to me anymore.


    I had won.


    That thought filled me with a confidence I hadn’t felt in ages—the kind of confidence I needed to keep ignoring the two biggest sources of trouble in my life.


    “I don’t need to see them,” I muttered under my breath, feeling a strange satisfaction.


    But then it happened.


    Just as I was nearing the intersection that led to my dorm room, two firm hands grabbed my shoulders.


    One was hot, almost burning.


    The other was cold, like a chill that froze my senses.


    I froze in place, unable to take another step. My heart jumped, and the Poké Ball in my hand nearly slipped.


    I whipped around like a broken robot, and there they were:


    Vera was on my left, her magenta eyes locked onto me with a chilling, lethal glare. A rosy aura swirled around her like an ethereal veil. Her face was tense, and her normally composed expression radiated silent anger. Her elegant outfit—a white blouse and skirt—sharply contrasted with the almost dangerous energy that surrounded her.


    Kara was on my right, her hand gripping my shoulder tight. Her sky-blue eyes burned with blazing fury, and I saw a faint blue glow around her, as if her fighting spirit was about to explode. Her muscles tensed beneath her partially open keikogi, and her quickened breath made it clear just how pissed off she was.


    Both of them were staring me down, each in their own way:


    Vera with her icy rage, Kara with her fiery hostility.


    The air around us felt heavy.


    —“Uhm…” —I managed to mumble, my words failing me.


    I couldn’t pretend not to see them anymore.


    I couldn’t run away—their hands held me in place.


    A shiver ran down my spine.


    I had a bad feeling about this.


    And in that instant, I realized a very simple truth:


    I was screwed.


    Really, really screwed.