The orange-haired boy clenched his fist as he recalled Houndour before taking out another pokeball. He really wanted to crush the black-haired boy with his Incineroar or Turtonator; however, the power difference was too huge that even if he won, the damage to his reputation would be more than what would be otherwise.
"Get out there."
With a flash of white, another fire-type appeared in the arena.
It had gleaming orange scales, a small fire on the tips of its tail and the cutest face the black-haired boy had ever seen.
"Charmander!"
Daemon looked at the Pokémon in front of him and never in his life had he wanted something so bad.
Yes, he had a shiny as well as a literal dragon. But...
...this was Charmander, the greatest starter in the world.
It grew into a Charizard and breathed flames that could burn forests.
Which boy had not once dreamed of training this Pokémon?
Too bad, the Charmander was not his...but belonged to somebody else. Someone who clearly did not cherish what they had...the greatest Pokémon in the world.
Daemon always wanted to train a Charmander, just like Red and Samuel Oak, the strongest Champions of Kanto.
"[Brick Break] that damn thing."
The fire-type ran forward, its right fist knocked back.
Deino was twice as weak to fighting-type moves, and Cross was going to exploit that. Moreover, the dragon was clearly on its last legs after taking so many [Fire Blasts]...or at least it was a lot more injured than when this fight started.
So, a fighting-type move should deal good damage...right?
"Take it; then [Thunder Fang]."
[Brick Break] hit Deino squarely in the face, but the dragon just took it without flinching.
~Growl
He bared his teeth at the fire-type before chomping down on its arm with a [Thunder Fang].
"Char!"
The fire-type screamed in pain as the jaws of Deino did not let go of it.
Daemon did not want to hurt the fire-type, but he was not going to show much mercy either. The Charmander was clearly untrained and had only a bunch of TMs. So, even a weak attack from Deino could easily finish the job.
"Send it back. Then [Dragon Breath], 30%."
Deino flung Charmander away.
~Growl~
He showed his dissatisfaction at Daemon limiting his power, but still shot the weakened draconic flames at the fire-type.
"Counter with [Flamethrower]."
Both moves met each other; the fire-type attack did not have either energy or mastery to compete with a move Deino loved to use.
The draconic flames soon engulfed the [Flamethrower] and then Charmander soon after.
BOOM
Charmander was blasted back and then fell limply to the ground. It tried to stand up, but the draconic flames followed it and kept going for a few more seconds.
"That's enough," the black-haired boy ordered.
When Deino stopped, the fire-type was done...it was on the ground, barely conscious. However, to Daemon's astonishment, Charmander tried to stand up, even after being defeated so thoroughly, but it was not enough.
"Charmander is too injured to battle. Deino is the winner. Victory goes to Daemon Aragon!"
The referee announced the results, knowing that the fire-type was seriously injured and needed to see Nurse Joy urgently. There was no point in waiting for the inevitable.
Silence engulfed the area except for the [Incinerate] Deino had let loose in the air, celebrating his victory.
~Roar~
Deino roared in triumph as the last opponent fell, and Daemon walked toward the dragon without hurry, Kirlia following closely.
"You did well."
The black-haired boy sat down across from him, studying the dragon's crimson eyes. A week and a half ago, those same eyes had burned with defiance. Back then, Deino would have lunged at him without hesitation. But now the dragon only stared back.
"~Dei."
"I know." Daemon chuckled softly. "They were too weak for you."
The dragon puffed its chest slightly, pride returning now that victory had soothed the wounds of repeated defeats against Ralts...now Kirlia.
"Deino~"
He looked at the psychic fairy, waiting for the day they would fight again and then towards the black-haired boy. He wanted to bite, but was too tired to even move...
Don't make excuses.
Kirlia smiled and then shone in blue light. [Life Dew] covered the injured Deino, healing much of his injuries.
~Grr
He did not need her help and, for now, ignored her, turning back to the human.
"Deino Dei~"
"I'll find stronger opponents next time," Daemon continued casually. "Does that sound good?"
"Deino." The dragon nodded immediately.
Satisfied, Daemon recalled him into the Poké Ball. "Rest." This time, Deino did not resist.
A week of losses had carved deep scars into the dragon's pride. Being crushed again and again had forced the creature to confront something dragons hated to acknowledge: weakness.
Today's victory was different. It burned brightly in Deino's chest like a blazing flame.
It was a proof...a proof that he was not weak.
Daemon knew exactly what the dragon was thinking; after all, he had engineered the entire thing the moment he had accepted the battle with Cross.
Dragons were creatures of overwhelming pride, but they also respected strength.
For the past week, Daemon had methodically broken Deino's confidence, forcing the dragon to witness the gap between them. Again and again, the dragon had charged ahead, ignoring commands, relying on instinct and arrogance when battling Alice.
And every single time...he lost.
Daemon could have won this fight against Cross through strategy, positioning, or careful command. He deliberately chose not to.
Loss against Alice was the lesson.
Today, however, the lesson had changed.
This time, Daemon had guided every move, every attack, every decision. Under his command, the dragon had crushed his opponents with overwhelming force.
The contrast was intentional.
When Deino ignored him, he lost.
When Deino listened, he won.
Simple lessons were the most effective ones.
The dragon would slowly begin connecting the two ideas until they fused into an unquestionable truth.
Victory came from Daemon. Without him, there was only defeat.
It would take time.
Weeks, perhaps months, before the belief settled deeply enough that the dragon would stop resisting entirely.
But Daemon was patient.
And prideful creatures were often the easiest to control once you taught them where their strength truly came from.
For now, though...Daemon had a different fish to fry.
"That's it?" he asked, turning toward the orange-haired boy. "That wasn't even forty seconds. And here I thought you would put up a challenge...scrub."
Cross glared furiously at him. The black-haired boy had just thrown his own words back at him. His red eyes then shifted to the fire-type still struggling to stand.
"You useless piece of shit!" The orange-haired boy snarled at the fire-type. "I gave you so many TMs, all from some of the strongest moves a Charmander can learn. They told me one of your parents was a dragon. Fuck, I got scammed."
Daemon frowned and was about to walk over to teach some sense to the boy when, to his and everyone else's utter astonishment, Cross did something no one had expected.
Even Misty, who was charging at the boy with her fists clenched, was so surprised that she stopped in her tracks.
The orange-haired boy dropped Charmander's pokeball to the ground before crushing it with his foot.
Blue light enveloped the fire-type who was looking at Cross with tears in its eyes.
"Char..."
It could not stand...but it crawled over to Cross and hugged his leg...begging...
"Fuck off, you useless shit!" The orange-haired boy spat at it and then kicked the fire-type away.
"...Char..."
The fire-type let out a mournful wail...
...but then it stopped.
Its small body was covered by the shadow of a black-haired boy.
"...Char?" It asked as the boy leaned down and pressed an Ultra Ball to its forehead.
~Wiggle~
~Wiggle~
~Wiggle~
~Ding~
"What the hell?" Cross turned to Daemon. "Why would you catch that little shit. Did you not see how weak it is, or are you blind? I loaded that little shit with tons of TMs, and it's still so pathetic!"
"Pathetic?" The black-haired boy scoffed at those words. "You think Charmander is weak?" He walked over to stand right next to the orange-haired boy, looking him up and down. "You threw fourteen TMs at a Charmander and still couldn't win. Same with your Ninetails and Houndour." He scoffed. "At this point, I'm starting to think the Pokémon aren't the problem." He paused and then added. "It's the moron giving the orders."
Cross tried to speak...
"Shut it, you Alolan trash. I have seen a Trubish once, and it had more character than a wanna be trainer like you." Daemon was furious at the other boy. He was a trainer who was hard on his Pokémon when they were training. Heck, he had his starter beat the crap out of Deino for a week straight. But that did not mean he had no care for the dragon.
He understood the limitations of what a Pokémon could and could not handle. But the moron in front of him was nothing but ungrateful to a Pokémon that had tried its best for him.
Daemon clicked his tongue before walking away.
"Where do you think you are going?" Cross walked forward with large steps and grabbed Daemon's shoulder. "You can't just...ugh!"
The black-haired boy turned around and twisted Cross's arm in a single motion. "You lost the Pokémon battle, three vs one, don't make me beat the crap out of you as well." He was having a hard time controlling his anger after visualizing the pitiful expression of Charmander. "And don't ask me if I can walk away with that Charmander or not. You let it go, I caught it. It's mine now, understood?"
The fire-type had crawled, begged and wailed, yet the orange-haired boy had just spat at it. SPAT!
Daemon's love for Charmanders aside, no Pokémon deserved such treatment.
"You!"
"Shut it!" Daemon pushed the boy back and then took a step forward. "Let me guess what you were about to say." He gave the boy a smirk. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?" And his smirk grew wider when the other boy had no response. "You think you are better than me?"
Since the orange-haired boy was short in height, Daemon had to lean down a little.
"If you think you can kick my ass, take a swing. See what happens." Daemon tilted his chin towards Cross and then extended his neck a little further, as if offering his face for a perfect punch. "Go on, little boy, show me how big a man you are."
He waited there, his eyes filled with mockery, locked onto Cross.
But Cross didn't move, too afraid to throw the punch. And after a moment, Daemon straightened.
"That's what I thought." The black-haired boy turned away, giving Cross a final look of disdain. "Crosshit."
Daemon did not turn around after that; his need for sleep was overwhelmed by his worry for the fire-type.
He made a beeline for Nurse Joy, not caring about the videos that were being shared on the forums, as well as the murderous gaze with which Cross stared at his back.
Misty looked at Daemon and then at Cross; she gave her two cents and ran after the black-haired boy.
"Midget."
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[Author's Note]:
[1]: Did you guys like the chapter? Please tell me if I can improve anywhere.
[2]: Just a heads up --- last chapter of the week.
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