Grandson of a Champion!
Son of the newly crowned Champion!
When the phantom silhouette of that Champion-level Haxorus flashed and vanished behind Shiba, and his true background exploded through the Glory Battle Club's battle hall like a nuclear blast, Tao's brain simply crashed.
He had always thought Shiba was just a terrifyingly talented civilian prodigy.
A stepping stone he could slowly crush under the weight of his family, his resources, his heritage.
But he never imagined—
The other side's background was something someone at his level could not even look up to.
It was a chasm stretching between heaven and earth itself, suffocating, despair-inducing.
The enormous psychological drop felt like an invisible giant hand that, in an instant, crushed the calm and rationality Tao had always been proud of.
That battle logic he had tempered through countless drills completely collapsed in this moment, shattering into worthless rubble.
His pupils shrank violently from fear; his reason burned away, leaving only the most primal madness.
"Jolteon! Don't stop!"
He screamed, his voice almost cracking, face twisted and feral.
"Smash it to death! Smash it to death for me!"
It was an order so stupid it bordered on insanity.
An order that shoved his most trusted partner, with his own hands, straight into the abyss.
"Now."
Shiba's voice was utterly calm, without the slightest ripple, but deep within those dark eyes, a knife-sharp glint flickered.
The opportunity had arrived.
On the battlefield, because its Trainer's mindset had completely fallen apart, Jolteon gave up on kiting and evasion entirely. It poured all of its power into a single point, turning into a golden bolt of lightning that charged forward with suicidal resolve.
Meanwhile, Dragonair, already boosted multiple times by Dragon Dance, had every muscle along its serpentine body swollen to the limit.
It felt its Trainer's will.
That cold, unquestionable will to destroy.
Rings of dazzling Dragon-type energy roared beneath its elegant scales, finally surging up and gathering in its eyes.
A wild, bloodthirsty red gleam exploded there in an instant.
The strongest physical Dragon-type move—Outrage!
"Rooooooar!"
The dragon's cry that tore into the sky was no longer elegant and noble like before. It was domineering and absolute, carrying the majesty of some primordial dragon of legend.
Dragonair's whole body was wrapped in a blazing aura of Dragon-type power, every single scale humming and vibrating.
It no longer dodged.
Facing that golden lightning bolt ripping through the air, it chose to meet it head-on, in a way even more savage, even more overwhelming.
Jolteon's Wild Charge!
Dragonair's Outrage!
"Boom!"
Two forces—one representing ultimate speed, the other ultimate power—collided head-on under the gaze of tens of thousands!
Blinding light swallowed the entire field. The violent shockwave of energy made even the spectators in the front rows feel their hearts clutch with unease.
But the outcome held no suspense whatsoever.
Empowered by Outrage and stacked with multiple Dragon Dance boosts, Dragonair's physical attack had risen to a terrifying level that defied normal understanding.
Jolteon's electric defenses were as fragile as thin paper before that overwhelming Dragon-type force.
Rip!
The crackling electric light was torn apart in an instant.
Dragonair's massive tail, wreathed in draconic flame, drew a killing arc through the air like a divine dragon lashing out, and slammed viciously into Jolteon's waist.
Crack!
That was the sound of bones shattering.
Along with a shriek so shrill it no longer sounded like it came from a living creature, Jolteon's lithe body twisted grotesquely, turning into a severed kite rocketing backward.
It traced a parabolic line through the air, flew past more than half the field, and finally crashed heavily onto the hard ground.
It convulsed twice, then fell completely still. Its eyes rolled up white as it fainted on the spot.
The referee raised his flag high. His hands were trembling from excitement, but his voice still boomed across the arena.
"Jolteon is unable to battle!"
"Therefore, the winner of this wagered match is—contestant Shiba!"
Silence.
A brief, deathly silence—and then a tidal wave of applause and cheers!
"Shiba! Shiba! Shiba!"
The entire battle hall roared the same name.
Tao's face was ashen. His knees gave out, and he collapsed into the cold players' seating.
He had lost.
He had lost the battle.
He had lost his family's treasured secret item, the Thunder Amplifier.
Even more than that, he had lost every shred of dignity and arrogance he possessed as a top-tier second-generation Trainer.
Under the gaze of tens of thousands of eyes, he felt as if he'd been stripped bare and thrown out under the blazing sun.
In those eyes, there was sympathy, and there was pity—but far more of them held naked mockery and ridicule.
All he could do was drag his leaden legs, heavy as if filled with molten metal, step by step toward the center of the field.
His fingers trembled as he fumbled a metallic disk with a futuristic look out from the special pouch at his waist.
Humiliated, unwilling, he held it out.
Shiba extended his hand and took the Thunder Amplifier.
It was icy to the touch, the smooth metal surface humming with faint pulses of electricity beneath it.
He did not even spare a glance at the shattered opponent standing before him, whose spirit had been utterly crushed.
To him, Tao was nothing more than a cluster of air, completely irrelevant.
Shiba turned, walked straight down from the battle platform, and left that excruciatingly humiliating silhouette behind for Tao—and for the entire audience.
That night, at the Kudo family estate.
In the ancient, elegant study, the air was rich with the mellow fragrance of top-grade black tea.
Shiba set the brand-new Thunder Amplifier on the purple sandalwood desk in front of his father, Kaito, with his own hands.
"Otou-san, this is for you."
His voice was steady and calm.
"Your Ampharos should be able to make good use of it."
Kaito put down the documents in his hand, his gaze landing on the oddly shaped secret treasure.
He was stunned for a brief moment, then sensed the faint lingering spiritual imprint of another Trainer on it.
In that instant, he understood exactly what had happened.
He raised his head and looked at his son.
On that young, resolute face, there wasn't the slightest hint of smugness or pride in having achieved something. There was only open, untroubled composure.
Kaito did not scold his son for being impulsive or reckless.
On the contrary, a surge of enormous gratification and pride flooded his chest in an instant.
He suddenly burst into hearty laughter, the booming sound rattling the ornaments on the bookshelves.
"Good kid!"
He stood, walked over to Shiba, and that hand which had once tamed countless powerful Dragon-type Pokémon came down hard on Shiba's shoulder.
The force of it made Shiba's body sway slightly.
"You've got guts!"
"You've got backbone!"
"You even win a treasure and your first thought is to bring it back to your old man!"
This filial piety, this view of putting the family's honor above personal gain or loss, moved Kaito deeply.
Just then, the study door opened without a sound.
An elderly man in a Tang-style jacket, still sharp despite his age, entered slowly, leaning on a dragon-headed cane.
It was the true anchor of the Kudo family, the previous generation Dragon-type Champion of the Xia Nation—Kazuma.
His clouded eyes swept over the secret treasure on the desk, then fell on Shiba, and in their depths, admiration grew even stronger.
A successor with extraordinary talent was not rare.
A successor who knew how to read the situation wasn't unheard of either.
But a successor who was not only extraordinarily gifted and perceptive, but who also had family and filial duty carved into his very bones…
That—was the perfect jewel any long-standing clan dreamed of.
(End of Chapter)
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