By the next morning, the thick drifts of snow surrounding the outer perimeter of Belobog had completely dissolved into running water.
With the primary capital stabilized, Julian began organizing Groudon's flight path, commanding the ancient titan to march in a wide, methodical circle around the planet to melt the heavy glaciers covering the adjacent sectors.
There was no need to completely burn away the ice in the far-flung wilderness; melting a substantial portion of the frozen shell was more than enough to jump-start the planet's natural, self-regulating ecosystem.
Of course, the sudden, massive evaporation of liquid across the Belobog basin meant the cloud cover hanging overhead grew remarkably dense.
To keep the local skies stable, Julian summoned projections of Ho-Oh and Lugia to the upper atmosphere, directing them to manage the rising warm air and regulate the primary ocean currents. Their presence smoothed out the sudden atmospheric shifts, preventing severe localized storms from battering the newly thawed city.
As for the lingering ranks of the Antimatter Legion encased within the deeper ice drifts, centuries of absolute zero had long since drained their energy, causing their frozen physical frames to fuse directly with the ice itself.
The exact moment the glaciers fractured under Groudon's heat, the frozen monsters simply shattered into meaningless dust, saving Julian the trouble of clearing them out manually.
Managing three legendary entities simultaneously naturally drew upon Julian's internal energy reserves, but as long as he wasn't forcing them into a full-power cosmic clash like his earlier battle against the Lord Ravager, his physical foundation could comfortably sustain the output.
Still, because regulating the global weather patterns required his passive attention, he elected to remain in the Belobog sector to monitor the numbers.
It was during one of these quiet monitoring sessions that his phone buzzed. A message from March 7th flashed across the screen, eagerly requesting an urgent, face-to-face meeting.
A Request for Guidance
"March? What brought you all the way down here?"
Standing in the main reception hall of the Supreme Guardian's residence, Julian looked at March 7th, who had just rushed through the double doors. "And why did you insist on meeting in person?"
"Well... it's actually about the Contest," March 7th admitted, lowering her posture and offering a surprisingly modest, sheepish smile. "I was hoping I could ask you to look over the routine I've been working on and give me a few pointers."
Julian's lips twitched slightly. He briefly wondered how March had reached the conclusion that he was an expert in aesthetic stage direction... though, considering his status as the creator of the entire Pokémon franchise, it was admittedly a very logical assumption on her part.
"Why don't you show me what you've got first?" Julian offered, stepping toward the center of the hall. "I'll see if I can offer any useful critiques. And if my suggestions don't hit the mark, I can always introduce you to someone who practically lives on a stage."
He was thinking of Robin, of course. As an interstellar pop star, her grasp of stage presence, lighting dynamics, and audience engagement far surpassed his own. Still, he wanted to see what March had put together first.
After all, he hadn't spent years studying media and entertainment back on Earth for nothing. While building a complex choreography from scratch might take time, analyzing a routine and offering sharp adjustments was well within his wheelhouse.
"That would be amazing!" March's face instantly lit up, though her expression quickly shifted to a slightly embarrassed pout. "Ah... but to launch my routine, I still need to head back up to the Astral Express to log into the virtual rig. It might take a little while..."
"No need to walk all the way back," Julian smiled. He casually placed a hand on her shoulder, and with a quiet flicker of spatial energy, teleported them both straight onto the train's main passenger car.
Himeko was already sitting by the lounge table, sipping a fresh cup of coffee, keeping watch over the train while the others were away.
"March? It looks like you successfully convinced Julian to lend a hand."
"Hehe! I'm going to give it my all, Himeko!" March giggled, turning to Julian with bright eyes. "Julian, I'll log into the game client right now!"
Julian nodded kindly as March skipped off toward her private room. After exchanging a warm greeting with Himeko, he pulled out his portable virtual visor and returned to his hotel room in Belobog to join the network.
The Ice Princess Routine
Logging into the game, Julian quickly accepted March 7th's friend request and loaded directly into her private training instance. Finding a wide, clear meadow within the digital space, March took her position and began her routine.
Her registered lineup consisted of a Castform holding its snow-cloud form, an Articuno, and a Dewgong—a team deeply anchored in the ice element.
Julian couldn't help but think that if the studio had already implemented Glaceon, Alolan Vulpix, or Alolan Ninetales, the sheer visual charm of her roster alone would have instantly captivated the judges.
As the music swelled, March stepped forward wearing an elegant, princess-inspired dress, complete with a delicate, shimmering tiara resting on her head. Moving in harmony with her Pokémon, she launched into a carefully rehearsed dance, commanding her partners to weave intricate ice structures around the stage.
Most of these creations took the shape of delicate, beautifully detailed ice crystals. It was clear she had taken notes from yesterday's broadcast, aiming for a grand visual scale.
However, her execution revealed a minor structural flaw. Some of the delicate, intricate designs that looked exquisite on a small scale lost their refined elegance when her Pokémon magnified them to fill the arena, appearing slightly bulky.
Her personal footwork, on the other hand, was crisp and fluid, showing just how much effort she had poured into practicing the dance.
Her approach—dancing alongside her Pokémon to build a majestic atmosphere—was solid. With her current level of polish and a few minor tweaks to her spatial design, clearing the first round of judging would be a breeze.
Furthermore, her three companions possessed such natural control over ice-type moves that creating shimmering crystals felt effortless for them. This level of elemental synergy would also serve her well during the Contest Battle phase, avoiding the awkward disconnect Guinaifen had struggled with earlier.
Overall, March's foundation was strong. But whether this specific routine had what it took to claim the overall crown remained an open question.
"Your routine will easily clear the first round," Julian noted, clapping his hands in genuine appreciation as the music faded. "But tell me—what's your ultimate goal here? Are you aiming to polish this until it's absolutely perfect and go all the way for the championship ribbon?"
"Mhm, mhm, mhm!" March nodded vigorously, her eyes filled with determination.
"After watching Guinaifen and Sushang on stage yesterday, my own routine felt a bit... shallow," March admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly. "If I have to go head-to-head against performances like theirs in the upcoming rounds, I'm really worried I won't stand a chance."
She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, bowing earnestly. "So please, master developer, grant me your wisdom! Give me some guidance!"
Julian chuckled softly, reaching out to gently pat her shoulder. "If I can help you lift your score, I certainly will. Let me think about this for a second..."
He replayed her performance in his mind, considering her style, her personality, and her chosen theme. After a brief moment, he looked up.
"First, tell me what core story or feeling you were trying to express with this routine."
Knowing that March preferred straightforward ideas over complex artistic jargon, he kept his question as clear and simple as possible.
"Hehe... it feels a little embarrassing to say it out loud," March rubbed the back of her neck, offering a timid smile. "I originally designed it around the idea of an ice princess dancing happily with her Pokémon in a winter wonderland."
"After watching the broadcast yesterday, I spent the whole night tweaking the visual effects to make the ice structures bigger, which brought it to what you just saw."
Listening to her explanation, Julian immediately spotted the root issue.
"When you say your performance felt 'shallow' compared to Sushang and Guinaifen, you're likely reacting to the cultural depth they wove into their routines," Julian explained gently. "Sushang brought authentic martial arts to the stage, and Guinaifen drew from traditional street acrobatics. Those elements come from deep cultural roots, which isn't something you need to copy or force into your own work."
"If you want your routine to feel meaningful and capture people's hearts, you don't need centuries of history," Julian continued, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Why not tell a captivating story instead?"
"Take your ice princess concept, for instance. You can push that theme much further! Imagine a narrative: you play a young princess who has been guarded by a legendary Articuno since childhood."
"Your ice power is immense—so powerful that you struggle to control it. Fearing you might accidentally hurt the people you love, you choose to lock yourself away in an isolated tower, with only your Pokémon to keep you company."
"Then, disaster strikes your kingdom, and you are thrust onto the throne. But during your coronation, your powers accidentally spiral out of control, accidentally plunging the realm into an eternal winter."
"Overwhelmed by guilt, you leave the crown behind and flee deep into the northern snow mountains. There, high above the world, you use your raw magic to build a breathtaking palace of pure ice—finally letting go of your fears, embracing your true power, and claiming your freedom."
As Julian spoke, he tapped into his device's projection tools to generate a vivid visual sample—showing the dramatic moment a towering, crystalline ice castle erupted from the snow, its spires catching the sunlight as a majestic bird soared above its gates.
March's eyes went wide. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the projection for a single second. The sheer emotional impact of watching a massive ice palace rise from nothing in a heartbeat... if she could recreate a spectacle like that on stage, the audience reaction would be explosive!
Anyone familiar with Earth's pop culture would have instantly recognized that Julian was simply adapting the narrative arc and visual climax of Frozen to fit March's Pokémon setup.
It was a classic, universally compelling storyline—and it fit March's vibrant personality and ice-themed roster like a tailored glove. Her original routine was already technically sound; what it lacked was an emotional hook. In a world full of grand cosmic spectacles, a powerful narrative could bridge that gap effortlessly.
All March needed to figure out now was how to coordinate her Pokémon to tell that story concisely through their moves.
"I love that idea so much!" March gasped, her face flushed with excitement. But as she quickly began running through the steps in her head, a practical problem suddenly struck her. "Wait... isn't that story a bit too long? Can we really tell all of that in just one minute?"
"I'm giving you a conceptual framework," Julian smiled warmly. "You don't need to convey every single detail in sixty seconds. You can simplify the beats to focus on the emotional high points."
"Or better yet," Julian suggested, "you could pair your performance with a powerful song. Let the lyrics and the music carry the story for you while you and your Pokémon focus on bringing the visuals to life. With the right song playing in the background, the emotional impact will land twice as hard."
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