"Alright. Now that everyone has received their battle consoles, it is time to begin our third trial," Drayden announced. "The rules are simple: Pokémon battles. Whoever emerges as champion will become the candidate for the next clan head. Once approved by the Dragon Clan's elders, that person will officially take up the mantle as our next patriarch here in the Unova region."
The moment Drayden's voice fell, the crowd erupted into a roar of excitement.
"Who do you think will become the young clan head? Iris or Poison Dragon?"
"My bet's on Iris. Poison Dragon is far too ruthless."
"I heard Feng Lu is competing this time, too."
"Feng Lu? You mean the one who vanished decades ago?"
"Hush, keep your voice down! Do you want the patriarch to hear you?"
Whispers and debates rippled through the gathering.
"Silence."
The single word cut through the noise, plunging the entire venue into instant stillness. Drayden's sheer authority within the clan was unmistakable.
"Now then," Drayden continued, "we will determine the matchups by drawing lots. Those who draw slips of paper of the same color from their envelopes will face each other."
Drayden produced eight envelopes and distributed them among Feng Che and the other seven contenders.
Feng Che opened his envelope and pulled out a slip of purple paper.
Glancing around, he caught sight of Poison Dragon brandishing a matching purple slip. Poison Dragon wore a smug, swaggering sneer, brandishing the slip openly in blatant provocation.
Heh. Look at him, acting like he's already got me in the palm of his hand, Feng Che thought, thoroughly annoyed. Has he already forgotten who sent him running with his tail between his legs just a moment ago?
Mewtwo, can you sense how many Pokémon he has on him? Feng Che asked inwardly. Are any of them genetically modified?
Feng Che watched as Poison Dragon slotted six Poké Balls into his battle console.
Only three of those Poké Balls contain Pokémon; the other three are empty, Mewtwo replied telepathically. His first Pokémon is a Sceptile, his second is a white Mega Gyarados, and his third is a Dracovish from the Galar region. I can sense the power of a raging storm dwelling within that white Mega Gyarados. Every single one of them has awakened Dragon-type power. As for whether they have undergone genetic modification, I cannot say for certain. Mewtwo added, unable to confirm genetic tampering through psychic power alone.
I have also scanned the deployment sequence programmed into the device in your hand, Mewtwo continued. Your first Pokémon is set to be Flygon. Your second is Dreepy. Your third is Deino. If they are deployed in this order, your Pokémon will be at a severe disadvantage.
Hmph. Mewtwo, rearrange the lineup for me, Feng Che commanded. Set Armaldo first, Rampardos second, and Naganadel third.
If I'm not mistaken, that white Mega Gyarados commands the power of wind, Feng Che calculated swiftly. Which means it must be a Dragon and Flying type.
His counter-strategy fell neatly into place.
Right then, Poison Dragon quietly tapped his earpiece, establishing a direct channel with his two lackeys.
"Are you two ready?" Poison Dragon muttered under his breath. "Do you know what Pokémon my opponent is carrying?"
"Lord Poison Dragon, that brat has Flygon, Dreepy, Naganadel, Deino, Rampardos, and Armaldo," one of the lackeys hurried to report. "Both his Rampardos and Armaldo have awakened Dragon-type attributes. Rest assured, my lord—we've already tampered with the device and rigged his deployment order. Every Pokémon he sends out will be hard-countered by yours. You're set to crush him in an absolute landslide!"
"Good," Poison Dragon murmured. "Just make sure it doesn't look too staged. We don't want anyone getting suspicious."
"Now, please place your Poké Balls into the consoles," Drayden's deep voice rang out. "Four battlefields have been prepared. Those with red slips, report to Field One. Yellow slips, Field Two. Green slips, Field Three. Purple slips, Field Four."
With that, Drayden mounted a Noibat and took flight toward the arenas, situated just a short distance from the sea of flowers.
Feng Che and Poison Dragon exchanged a sharp glance, then strode directly toward Field Four.
"Hmph. I'm going to take this match, and I'm going to grind you beneath my heel," Poison Dragon hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "When that time comes, I'll strip every last one of your Pokémon from you. As for that rebellious Deino of yours... I'll throw it straight into the laboratory for the cruellest experiments imaginable. I'll strip away every ounce of its spirit until it's nothing more than the deadliest living weapon in my hands."
"Come forth, my partner!" Poison Dragon shouted.
Just as Mewtwo had foreseen, Poison Dragon called out his Sceptile.
Remarkably, it was already maintaining its Mega Evolved form: Mega Sceptile.
Green armor-like plates shielded Mega Sceptile's chest, the foliage across its body had grown razor-sharp with crimson tips, and the massive fern-like leaf on its tail was capped with a lethal, needle-pointed stinger. A pair of vibrant red and orange seed-like spheres adorned its back, and the intricate patterns across its tail glowed with altered hues.
A Mega Sceptile could close any distance in a heartbeat with its blinding foot speed. It could sever its own tail to launch it like a guided missile against its prey, and until its Mega Evolution energy ran dry, that discarded tail would rapidly regenerate.
The moment Mega Sceptile materialized on the battlefield, it cast a frigid, lifeless glance toward Feng Che. Its eyes were utterly devoid of emotion, like those of a remorseless assassin forged purely for slaughter.
Dried dragon blood crusted the serrated leaf-blades along its forearms. For a chilling instant, Feng Che could almost see the vengeful spirits of countless Dragon-type Pokémon writhing around the beast's frame.
Good grief... just how much blood is on this creature's claws? Feng Che marveled silently.
"Go! It's your turn!"
Feng Che hit the release trigger on his console, and Armaldo burst forth from the opening sphere.
What the hell? Poison Dragon froze, his eyes widening. Shouldn't that bastard have sent out Flygon?
He suddenly remembered telling his subordinates not to make the victory look too staged.
Those useless idiots! Poison Dragon fumed internally, silently cursing his lackeys to high heaven. I give them one simple order, and they go and throw a hard counter right into my Mega Sceptile's face? I said I didn't want it to look staged, not that I wanted to bleed for it!