The next morning, the sun broke over the craggy skyline of Oreburgh City, casting long, sharp shadows across the dusty streets. I stood before the entrance of the Oreburgh Gym, adjusting the collar of my blue tracksuit. The building was more of a fortress than a gym—a heavy, industrial dojo built from the very stone the city was famous for.
"Hello there! Welcome to the Oreburgh Gym," a staff member called out as I approached. "Are you a challenger looking for a match?"
"I am," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Great! Right this way for registration."
I followed him to a sleek counter where a young woman sat behind a computer. She looked up with a professional smile. "I'll need your Trainer ID or your Pokédex to get you into the system."
I handed over my Pokédex. As she slotted it into the scanner, the screen flickered to life, pulling up the digital trail of my short journey.
[Name: Julian] [Gender: Male] [Age: 15] [Hometown: Sandgem Town, Sinnoh Region] [ID Issuer: Professor Rowan] [Registration Date: April 8, 243 of the League Calendar] [Rank: Beginner] [Sinnoh Badges: 0] [Honors: Winner of the Jubilife City Contest Ribbon]
I had specifically asked the League to keep my PhD and research titles hidden from public view. I didn't want people treating me like a "Professor" on the field—I wanted to be judged as a Trainer.
"Alright, Julian from Sandgem Town," the clerk said, typing a few notes. "A zero-badge beginner with a Ribbon under his belt. Interesting! Please wait in the lounge; we'll call you when the field is ready."
As I sat on a bench, I started thinking about the reality of the Gym system. Most people think the Gym Leader just sits there all day waiting for kids to show up. In reality, it's a tiered system. If you have zero badges, you usually fight an apprentice or an "acting" Gym Leader who uses weaker Pokémon. A true veteran Leader won't personally step onto the dirt unless you have at least four or five badges.
Running a Gym is actually a secondary job for most of these people. They're journalists, chefs, or, in this case, miners and museum directors. They don't have time to stomp rookies all day; it's boring for them and soul-crushing for the kids. League funding covers the bills, but the real perks—the rare evolution stones and high-grade nutrients—are only accessible to those who maintain their status.
So, I was fully expecting a match against a gym apprentice. I figured I'd see a Geodude or maybe a small Onix.
The Challenger's Stage
"Julian from Sandgem Town? You're up!" a voice called out about an hour later.
I stood up, took a deep breath, and followed the guide through a heavy set of double doors. We emerged into a massive indoor arena. The floor was a "Mountain Battlefield"—a rough, uneven terrain littered with jagged rock formations and pits. It was a Rock-type's dream.
I stood at the challenger's podium, waiting. A few moments later, a man walked out from the opposite tunnel.
He was wearing thick work boots, white gloves, and a grey jumpsuit stained with coal dust. A bright red safety helmet sat on his head, covering his messy red hair, and a pair of spectacles rested on his nose. He looked like he had just climbed out of a tunnel five minutes ago.
"I am so sorry for the wait!" the man said, wiping some dust off his jumpsuit. "I was deep in the mine and lost track of the time. My apologies, Dr. Julian."
I blinked. My jaw almost hit the floor.
"Wait... you're Roark," I said, my heart starting to race. "The Gym Leader. I was expecting an apprentice... I'm a rookie with zero badges. Why are you personally taking the field?"
Roark chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Well, I'll be honest. As the youngest PhD in the League—the man who discovered the Fairy-type—you've caused quite a stir in our circles. Finding a new type is as big a deal as spotting a Legendary Pokémon."
He stepped up to his podium, his eyes shining with a mix of academic curiosity and competitive fire. "When your registration popped up on my terminal, I couldn't help myself. I've read your papers on Sylveon, but I've never actually seen a Fairy-type in battle. As a Trainer, I'm dying to see how my rocks hold up against your 'magic.'"
I felt a rush of adrenaline. I had watched this man in the anime and read about his strategies in textbooks. Facing a real Gym Leader for my first-ever Badge was a massive leap in difficulty, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"I see," I said, a confident smirk playing on my lips. "No pressure then, right? Just the discoverer of a type versus the master of the mines."
Roark laughed and pulled a Poké Ball from his belt. "Exactly! I won't be using my championship team, of course—that would be unfair. But don't expect me to go easy just because you're a doctor. In this arena, we let the fossils do the talking!"
I reached for my own Poké Ball. "Fine by me. I've been training for a year for this moment. Let's show the world that Fairy-types aren't just for shows!"
I looked at the jagged rocks and the man in the hard hat. This was it. No more stage lights, no more dancing. This was a battle of attrition.