Blaziken joyfully ran along the mountain road, its long, powerful legs covering two of Silas's steps in just one stride.
As a Fire and Fighting-type Pokémon, Blaziken was overflowing with energy by nature.
Even without special training, it exercised daily after all, it was a Pokémon that loved to run.
This kind of task was practically made for it.
The journey itself was rather dull for Silas and Blaziken. Aside from the staff in the broadcast van ahead, the only others nearby were a few scattered people following the torch relay in the distance — too far away to talk.
All they had to do was maintain their image and keep running until they were about five kilometers away from the Indigo Plateau Stadium.
Only there would crowds of competitors and spectators gather along the road, cheering and celebrating for them.
The trip was peaceful — so peaceful that Silas almost couldn't believe it.
Although it was rare for criminal organizations to foolishly attempt stealing the Sacred Flame, it wasn't unheard of.
After all, the flame of Moltres, the Fire-type Legendary Bird, was said to be worth enough to drive people insane.
Not to mention Team Rocket's recent activities on Seafoam Island — proof that Kanto's largest dark organization was still obsessed with researching the genetic data of the Legendary Birds.
Unless they'd already found Moltres or Zapdos elsewhere — which wasn't impossible.
Among the Legendary Birds, their combat power ranked among the lower tier of Legendary Pokémon, and there wasn't only one of each in existence. They merely lived in isolated, dangerous territories protected by wild Pokémon, making them extremely difficult to locate.
Given Team Rocket's resources and reach, finding them wasn't out of the question.
Silas ran with a mechanical smile, his body moving automatically while his mind kept turning.
No one coming to steal the flame was actually a good thing — it meant all the emergency countermeasures they'd planned during the meeting weren't needed.
Less work for him.
He couldn't exactly wish for trouble to happen, could he?
He thought idly, half amused.
Speaking of which, it was about time to decide which Pokémon would appear in the preliminary matches.
It'd be best if all of them got a turn to appear — to get used to the competition's atmosphere including Rhydon and Leafeon.
Otherwise, if they went straight into the main event or one of the major stadiums with tens of thousands of spectators, even the most thick-skinned Pokémon would feel nervous.
That kind of noise and intensity wasn't easy to handle.
Every year, plenty of rookie Trainers' Pokémon made embarrassing mistakes because of it.
Even if they recovered quickly afterward, no one liked being the subject of a live-broadcast blunder.
Once the main tournament began, it would be streamed across the region — even worldwide.
You'd never know how many people would remember your awkward moment.
Silas thought things through carefully.
According to the rules of the preliminaries, each Trainer would have to fight ten one-on-one battles, and whether they qualified for the main event depended entirely on their win record.
Out of more than ten thousand Trainers, only the top 1,024 in total victories would advance to the main tournament, which used four elemental arenas and a single-elimination format.
Ten matches, eight Pokémon — more than enough.
But there were always odd cases.
For instance, if he happened to face three or four Trainers in a row whose Pokémon were all near Elite–level, he might have to rely on his strongest Pokémon — Pidgeot and Blaziken to secure victories.
That could mean other Pokémon would never even get a chance to appear.
It had happened before in the League's history — even strong Trainers sometimes suffered from bad luck.
The League's system was designed to reduce the influence of luck and focus more on skill, but in reality, luck still played a role that couldn't be ignored.
After all, some Trainers were blessed with absurd luck — others, not so much.
And perhaps that was exactly what the League wanted.
After all, during a Trainer's journey, luck was an important part of strength.
Some Trainers stumbled into ancient ruins and discovered powerful Pokémon techniques or rare items.
Others entered the territory of a powerful wild Pokémon, received its guidance, and grew stronger.
And of course, there were those who found nothing or even lost their lives.
So while the former might not be stronger right now, fate could easily turn that around in the future.
The League's preliminary design sought to identify not only strong but also exceptional individuals those whose mix of skill and fortune made them stand out.
If a Trainer's luck was extraordinary, they might one day become a truly powerful figure.
And the League didn't mind if such people stepped into the spotlight.
After all, if you relied only on luck without matching strength, the main tournament was your limit — even reaching the Top 64 would be an impossible dream.
Conversely, if your strength was great, a little bad luck wouldn't stop you.
Silas thought that his luck wasn't the best — but it definitely wasn't that bad.
There were fewer than a hundred Trainers in the whole competition with even one pseudo–Elite–level Pokémon, probably less than 1% of all participants.
The odds of facing four of them in a row were astronomically low — about the same as randomly encountering Arceus on the road and catching it with a regular Poké Ball.
If luck was truly that bad, Silas would have to reconsider his career path.
Based on past data, having three or more Advanced-level Pokémon was usually enough to reach the main tournament — provided they were of different types and high level.
Facing a string of strong opponents was rare, but facing type disadvantages was common.
When strength was similar, type matchups determined everything.
That's why the title "Type Reversal Master" really wasn't about the "master" part.
Silas hesitated for a moment, then decided — when the preliminaries began, he'd let Togetic take the field first.
As long as he could secure ten straight wins, that was all that mattered.
The format looked simple, but the whole process was complex, lasting nearly a month.
Besides the burden on the Pokémon Centers and referees, there were logistical concerns too.
For example, what if more than 1,024 Trainers achieved ten wins?
Statistically, the qualified Trainers should represent roughly the top 10% in overall strength, meaning eight or nine wins would usually be enough.
Indeed, that was what most past tournaments showed.
Still, unexpected results couldn't be ruled out — this kind of issue had happened more than once in over a hundred tournaments.
In such cases, the League would intervene — naturally, based on strength.
They usually held additional matches among Trainers with pseudo–Elite–level Pokémon, weeding out the weaker or less fortunate ones.
You could say that even before officially serving the League, these elite competitors were already being used as "tools" of the system.
February 10th.
An ordinary yet much-anticipated day.
On this day, the Indigo Conference opening ceremony was about to begin.
By noon, registration would close.
Of course, few Trainers waited until the last minute — most had already finished signing up.
The contestant hall, once bustling for days, was now quiet.
"Ah, I really wanted to see the torch relay in person!"
The Nurse Joys on duty chatted idly while keeping to their posts.
"No helping it — it's our shift right now~"
One of them replied, her computer showing the live broadcast of the torch relay.
"At least we can watch the stream. Otherwise, it'd be way too boring."
The others nodded in agreement.
Even though the torch relay happened every year, that didn't stop them from paying attention each time — especially to this year's runner.
As members of one of the League's most essential families, the Joys understood the symbolic importance of the torch better than most.
"This must be that civilian genius Trainer that Cousin Jun discovered a few years ago, right? He's really handsome."
They sighed in admiration.
From the day Silas was chosen as one of the Torch Runners, his information had already been thoroughly dug up by countless curious fans.
It wasn't as if his background was a mystery — Silas wasn't some wild man detached from League society.
Not to mention, everything he'd accomplished over the past year had been anything but low-key.
It's just that his deeds were scattered enough that unless you paid close attention, you wouldn't realize it was all the same person.
Looking at his record, anyone could only marvel — another future pillar of the Pokémon League.
Many people expressed similar sentiments.
No wonder the League had specially selected him as a Torch Runner; it wasn't merely because he was born in Viridian City.
Even if the route had ended in another city, the League would have found countless reasons to let him carry the flame.
He was practically a younger version of Lance — perhaps even surpassing him in some ways if family background was set aside.
Without Silas realizing it, he had already gathered a considerable fanbase across every region.
The bright, confident smile he showed while carrying the torch, his immense natural talent as both a Trainer and Breeder, and his harmonious bond with his Pokémon — all deeply impressed the public under the League's extensive promotion.
In just two and a half days, his popularity had exploded.
"Are we moving a bit too fast?"
The League Chairman, Charles Goodshow, didn't respond to his secretary's question.
He simply looked calmly at the forum screens filled with Silas's name.
"The League hasn't had a young Trainer capable of leading an era for over a decade," Charles said slowly.
"Lance's generation is no longer young. Trainers like Ash Ketchum and Gary Oak are promising, but they're still growing. Their influence can't yet match the older Champions."
Most of the League's newer members only knew of those legends through words and video footage — they never witnessed Lance, Bruno, or Lorelei battle live in the Indigo Plateau Conference or during the Elite Four Challenges.
The difference between watching a recording and seeing it firsthand is like night and day.
"The League needs someone like Silas — someone who can inspire the next generation of Trainers and drive the League forward."
Then Charles added, smiling faintly,
"Besides, you underestimate that boy."
Even though he had only met Silas briefly, Charles could sense something — a familiar light shared by Trainers like Lance and the other Elite Four.
The secretary didn't quite grasp what the chairman meant, but thinking of the widespread praise Silas had received from respected figures, he stayed silent and followed Charles out of the office.
By now, the Indigo Plateau and its surrounding areas were filled with excitement.
The cheers of Trainers and spectators echoed everywhere — everyone awaited the arrival of the Torch.
Since Silas began his run two days ago, official League events and spontaneous public celebrations had never once stopped.
But today, the energy had reached its peak.
When the decorated broadcast vehicle appeared, carrying Chairman Charles Goodshow and the burning torch, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
The old man waved warmly to everyone.
But his presence was soon overshadowed — by the brilliant flame of Moltres, blazing red and gold atop the ceremonial torch.
The sight drove the audience into an even greater frenzy.
Silas, wearing a modest smile, kept pace beside his Blaziken, running steadily down the road.
A boom echoed overhead — specially designed fireworks burst above the circular Indigo Stadium, bright even against the midday sky.
Such was the wonder of Pokémon power.
As the sacred flame entered the stadium tunnel, the energy gradually quieted… only to erupt once more.
Crowds of Trainers and fans holding limited-edition souvenirs flooded into the arena.
Their faces flushed, voices raised — even the normally cold air of the Plateau seemed to warm with the crowd's passion.
From his elevated position on the Torch platform, Silas looked down.
Each entering Trainer moved differently — some blushing and awkward, others stiff as statues.
With his sharp eyes, he could even see a few trembling not from the cold, but from excitement.
He took a deep breath.
Beside him, Blaziken mimicked the motion, its chest puffing with pride.
Silas grinned.
His gaze swept across the gathered competitors some relaxed, some pretending not to care those were surely the experienced veterans, the ones who had already competed in past Conferences.
He could hardly wait to battle them.
"Now, let us turn our attention to the 12,956 remarkable Trainers who registered for this year's Indigo Plateau Conference!"
The announcer's passionate voice echoed through the arena.
"Each of them has collected all eight official Kanto Gym Badges, proving their skill and determination. Over the next two months, they will bring us a true feast of sight and sound a celebration of Pokémon battles at their finest!"
Thunderous cheers roared once more through the air, shaking the very walls of the stadium.
.....
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