Tim gazed mournfully at the sky. "My Flygon... when will you finally show up?!"
"Just wait. That's the one downside of pseudo-legendaries—the evolution cycle is way too long. Here, there's an even worse off case." Auron nudged his chin toward Peter.
Tim looked at Peter's face, which had gone slightly dark. He immediately felt better. At least his Dragonair had some predictable timeline to follow, but Peter's Vibrava—when it would evolve was truly in the hands of fate.
"Ugh, having you suffer alongside me actually makes me feel a lot better." Tim patted Peter's shoulder in a cheerfully shameless way.
"Get lost. I hope your Dragonair evolves AFTER my Vibrava does."
The instant Tim heard this, he panicked on the spot. He immediately threw his arm around Peter's neck. "Quick—pft pft pft! Take that back! Shut your crow mouth!"
"Hahahahaha~"
People nearby turned to look, curious about what had gotten everyone laughing so hard.
Not just the students around them—even the chancellor up on the viewing platform noticed the commotion.
"Haha, youth really is a wonderful thing."
After the laughter died down, everyone settled where they were and continued watching the battles at Arena 65.
Watching the fights on the platform, chatting, complaining about this, commenting on that—it was all quite relaxing.
"Ding-ling~"
Suddenly, a phone rang. Everyone turned to look.
"Me—I have to go up." Simon raised his phone, speaking in his quiet, gentle voice.
"Let's go then. Which arena? We'll come with you."
Hearing Auron's words, Simon offered a small smile. "52. Not far from here."
"Alright, let's move."
With one word from Auron, everyone clustered around Simon and rushed toward Arena 52 together.
"What the—!"
In Arena 52, Simon's opponent took one look at the group surging in with such fierce energy and his eyebrow twitched.
"My opponent isn't one of them, is it?" Simon's opponent hurriedly pulled out his phone, checking his opponent's information and trying to match it against Auron and the others.
But before he could finish comparing, Simon had already stepped onto the field and was standing quietly across from him.
Ma Xinghui stole a nervous glance at the intimidating group below. His heart leaped. He quickly tried to psych himself up internally.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. You're fighting him, not them. What's there to worry about?"
"Swish!"
The flag dropped. The match began.
"Go, Pinsir!"
"..."
Pinsir vs. Haunter. After both appeared on the field and faced each other, Haunter suddenly vanished into thin air.
The battle ended quickly. There was no suspense whatsoever.
Haunter emerged from the shadows and landed a Flamethrower squarely on the completely unprepared Pinsir, then followed it up with a relentless barrage of Shadow Balls that finished the job.
"Damn it—return, Pinsir. Go, Bandana Rascal!"
Ma Xinghui gritted his teeth, recalled the fallen Pinsir, and sent out Bandana Rascal onto the empty field.
"Bandana Rascal, Dark Pulse—sweep the field!"
Bandana Rascal immediately fired off Dark Pulse in a sweeping fan across the empty arena, but it didn't connect with Haunter.
"Kekeke~"
Haunter cheerfully slipped out from behind Bandana Rascal. Before Bandana Rascal could even turn around, a glob of purple substance was flung into his body by Haunter.
Just as Bandana Rascal's body flickered with violet light and began suffering the escalating damage of Toxic, Haunter followed up with a Drain Punch right to the top of his head.
Though the hit wasn't particularly powerful in terms of raw damage, the humiliation it carried was immense.
After landing the blow, Haunter once again dove back into thin air and vanished without a trace.
"No wonder they say Ghost-type specialist families have their craft down to an art. The way your family uses Ghost-type Pokémon's vanishing is truly unmatched. Absolutely masterful."
Auron watched from below with an impressed expression, turning to Lena as he spoke.
With his waveguide senses, he naturally knew exactly where Haunter had been the entire time.
Haunter had entered his vanishing state the very moment Pinsir went down at the start. By the time the opponent sent out Bandana Rascal, Haunter was already positioned right behind him.
But Haunter hadn't rushed in to attack. Instead, he'd waited—patiently holding position until Bandana Rascal had finished using his move. Only then did he strike: one hand of Toxic, one Drain Punch, catching his opponent completely off guard.
Lena raised her chin with pride. "But of course. We've been specializing in Ghost types for generations. Naturally we have our signature techniques."
"Arcanine breaks vanishing." Tim dropped in quietly from beside her.
"AHHH, how can you be such an awful person?! You're so infuriating!"
Lena immediately blew up. It was just one time that Jace's Arcanine had broken through the vanishing trick—how long were they going to keep bringing it up?
"Alright, alright. Let's keep watching the battle. Your husband's about to win."
Seeing Lena ready to beat Tim to a pulp, Auron quickly stepped in to smooth things over.
On the field, Haunter would occasionally materialize at a distance—and the instant he appeared, it was either a Sludge Wave or a Thunderbolt aimed at Bandana Rascal.
Though Bandana Rascal had fallen under Toxic and was desperately trying to dodge the attacks while closing the gap toward Haunter, his speed was simply far too slow. Haunter kept him dangling the entire time—Bandana Rascal couldn't even get close enough to lay a finger on him.
The longer you hold your ground, the more likely you are to slip up. Bandana Rascal only failed to dodge one of Haunter's Sludge Waves, and the combined damage from that hit and the escalating Toxic finished him off.
"Bandana Rascal has lost the ability to battle. Haunter wins. The victor of this match is Simon Greaves."
The moment the referee made the announcement, everyone turned their heads toward Tim in unison and said in a single voice, "Another clean sweep."
Tim slumped backward in defeat. "Ugh! Just kill me already!"
Auron watched Simon step down and hauled Tim up by one arm. "Come on. Let's eat first, then you can die."
Four rounds of the tournament had passed, and it was already past one in the afternoon. After four rounds, there would be a one-hour break. The remaining four rounds would resume after two o'clock.
Then the following morning would be the final two or three rounds, with the afternoon being the five rounds to narrow the field from one thousand down to five hundred.
The third day's morning would see three rounds cutting from five hundred to two hundred fifty, and the afternoon would be three rounds from two hundred fifty down to one hundred twenty-five.
From the fourth day onward, the main tournament would begin—complete with live broadcasts, massive screens, commentators, and the full works.
The main tournament's duration was variable, lasting roughly three or four days. Once a champion was crowned, it would end.
"No way. You all just wounded my fragile heart. You owe me a meal." Tim, riding the momentum of being hauled up, turned to everyone with a dissatisfied expression.
Auron immediately let go of his hand. "Then sit back down."
Unfortunately, Tim had already predicted Auron's reaction. He gripped tight and refused to let go.
"Nope. You hurt me, and you hurt my Dragonair too. So you all owe me and Dragonair a meal. No objections, right?"
Auron laughed and pulled his hand free. "Fine. Then the great young master gets treated to one meal at the school cafeteria. Let's go."
"Let's gooo~"