Hello, and welcome to the fourth chapter of Project Endeavor! I know I've been putting these out really quickly; what can I say? I'm passionate about it. All your feedback means the world to me.

Now, I might not be great at writing battle scenes, but I did my best here. So please, let me know what you all think of the new perspective.

Current music: Tutankoopa Battle Theme - Paper Mario (N64)

August stood in the healing tent, glancing at his surroundings. Perhaps he had decided to come and watch him after all.

Don't get your hopes up, he instructed himself sharply. He probably doesn't even care. I know he promised to come, but he might have forgotten.

As he waited for his team of Pokémon to recover from the previous battle (a process that was greatly expedited by the healing machines contained within the tent), August felt his heart pounding forcefully. It was as though he were taking part in a 100-meter dash.

Really, he shouldn't have been so nervous. Thus far, he'd been breezing through the tournament with flying colors; in both the second and third rounds, he hadn't even needed to face a battle. His opponents had simply taken a look at him and called it quits, just like that.

His easy victory in the first match of the 64-man bracket, as well as the two byes he'd received as a result of preemptive surrenders, had gotten him into the final eight. From there, he'd survived the quarter-finals without much trouble.

The semi-finals, on the other hand, had taken almost everything he had. No matter how hard his Pokémon fought, no matter how quick his reflexes were, that young woman's Bellossom kept putting his Pokémon to sleep. It had only been through Canaan Riolu's Force Palm that the Bellossom had been put away, and then Canaan himself nearly fell to her Venusaur.

Among his team, the Riolu certainly needed the most healing, but all four Pokémon had taken a beating. Thank Arceus for the medical tent.

After a few more minutes, August frowned. Healing his Pokémon wasn't supposed to take this long, was it?

Perhaps she lost track of them. If my Pokémon aren't present, I'm going to be disqualified from the final match. After all that's happened, after all I've done to make it this far, and with all that's riding on my victory…I cannot accept such an outcome!

August tapped his right foot on the pavement, hoping against hope that Rowan would show up. Of course, if the nurse didn't return with the four Pokéballs, that would be cold comfort.

"Okay, Mr. Hemlock. Your Pokémon are all healed up and ready for battle. How are you feeling?"

The young man grinned, letting out a happy sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "I really think I'm going to win this thing!"

"That's the spirit" Nurse Joy responded. "But what happens if you don't? You'll have to be able to accept losing, won't you?"

August felt his heart sink. Not because he thought he'd lose, but because he didn't want to think about the possibility of losing. Still, he knew what answer Nurse Joy expected. "I know - I'll fight hard, but I'll accept the result."

Maybe I can't, though.

"Good" Nurse Joy replied. "Because," she continued, her teal eyes staring right into August's soul, "you don't know how close Canaan Riolu came to a serious injury."

' "Aren't broken bones pretty trivial for Pokémon, though?" August asked. "It's not like they need to wear casts for six weeks if that happens."

"I mean that Canaan's broken paw could have been far more complex than what this machine can heal," the nurse said sharply. "I know you want to win, but if one of your Pokémon, even if still conscious, shows that they can't fight anymore, that's that. Don't make them."

"I understand," August responded. "I won't push them too hard."

"Good luck," Nurse Joy replied with a grave smile.

All four Pokéballs were returned to the young man, and he was just about to return to the arena (now set up for just one marquee matchup) when he heard someone call his name.

Sure enough, it was a tall, thin boy about August's age, with slightly long dirty-blonde hair. The boy panted as he sprinted to August's side - he'd clearly arrived in a hurry.

"There you are. I've been looking for you!"

"What's going on, Rowan?" August replied, trying to sound as neutral as he could. His heart was both leaping and sinking, though - his mood was being torn in two different directions.

"Nothing really. Well, a lot in actuality, but I just wanted to wish you good luck. You're going to need it."

Quite frankly, I'll need a little more than luck. I need skill, and something else too. But sure, we'll call it "luck."

"Did you hear about who you'll be facing?" Rowan continued.

"I assume it's not someone who will drop out right before facing me," August said curtly.

"Let's look at it this way: Who fights all the way to the finals, only to just let their opponent have it? No, you're facing Darius Gilmore, who is, at a minimum, the second-best Pokémon trainer in Sinnoh."

"Well, that sucks."

"Don't worry about it" Rowan responded with a half-grin. "You're the first-best trainer in Sinnoh."

"I'm not sure that's grammatically correct."

"You get the idea, though - you can beat him. I know you can do it, August!"

August forced a smile onto his face. "Well, thanks. I'll do my best."

"And if you do your best, Darius doesn't stand a chance. Wait - why do you look so worried?"

August realized that the smile had gone away; he hadn't even been trying to suppress it. Perhaps that was a mark of how nervous he felt.

"I don't know. I'll be happy when this is over, win or lose. I just want to help Jerry."

"You don't get paid unless you win," Rowan replied. "But you're going to. Now, the match will start any minute now, and failing to show up would mean an automatic DQ. You don't want that, do you?"

After shaking his head, August bade Rowan farewell and began making his way back into the stadium, carrying his four Pokéballs in one of the knapsacks provided by the tournament's organizers. Along the way, he passed numerous people, most of whom clapped for him.

I have to win. I have to do this for Jerry.

Still, the encounter with Rowan, far from energizing August and giving him more confidence about the match, had ultimately had the opposite effect. For every time he saw his best friend, he couldn't help but wonder what if.

He shook his head. The coming match was going to be tough as was - there was no need to add those worries to it as well. That would only guarantee his loss.

August strode as confidently as possible into the Colosseum. By this time, the sun had gone down, but the stadium's lights more than made up for the sky's darkness.

Wiping some sweat off his brow, August considered Nurse Joy's words about not pushing his Pokémon too hard. That it might result in serious injuries for them.

He'd already decided that he wasn't going to heed that advice too seriously. Yes, it would suck to let one of his friends get badly hurt. But if the nurse knew just how desperately he needed to succeed, she might give him a pass.

On the other side of the stadium stood a tall, thin young man. He had dark skin and very short black hair, and he stared down August with a severe expression.

One thing was for certain: Darius wasn't going to back down before the match began. The insane luck August had received in two previous matches would not continue. But I don't need luck, he reminded himself.

"Good evening, and congratulations to our two finalists," the announcer said over the JumboTron, which had previously displayed the bracket. "No matter the outcome of this final match, I hope both of you will be proud of yourselves. After all, you did what 318 of your fellow trainers could not.

"Now, there are a few ground rules to this final match. Each of you have four Pokémon, and the first one of you to lose all four to unconsciousness, will lose the match. Unlike in previous matches, the arena will transform at random intervals - the Gamemakers will ensure it is so."

I can work around that, August insisted silently. I don't need good luck in order to win this.

"Now, finalists, shake hands."

August walked up to his opponent, who appeared even taller up close. Now, August wasn't exactly short, but Darius had to be a couple inches taller.

Darius frowned at August, but his eyes looked almost happy. "Good game," he said.

"Isn't that something you usually say after the match?"

Darius shrugged. "I don't care. I'm going to win anyway - I'm not going to let your shenanigans cost me this thing."

At that word, shenanigans, August felt a lump grow in his throat. It carried all sorts of implications with it - mainly, that August was trying to win through illegitimate means.

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, I've seen the way you look at your Pokémon and speak to them. You seem to do it a lot more smoothly than my other opponents."

"That doesn't mean anything, though," August retorted. "Maybe I'm just that good, huh?"

Darius frowned again. "I'm not accusing you of anything. Not without concrete evidence. Let's shake on it."

They shook hands. It may have only been August's perception, but it seemed like Darius was trying to crush August's right hand in his own. The other finalist's grip strength was incredibly strong.

The announcer came back on the JumboTron, and August felt dread well up within him. Had the powers that be in this arena heard their previous exchange?

It seemed the answer was no; or at least, the announcer decided not to draw any more attention to it. "Gentlemen, each of you must stand at least 100 yards from the other before the match can begin. Once that distance has been established, the final battle will be underway."

August had to admit that he was grateful for this rule. If it hadn't been in place, he'd have to spend more time right next to Darius, which was an intimidating prospect. Fortunately, he wouldn't need to.

"Okay. The necessary distance has been established. And with that…three, two, one, fight!"

Right away, August pulled a Pokéball out of his knapsack at random. He didn't even check the sticker - he just threw it as far as he could, and with the flash of cyan light, it burst open.

Bandit the Bidoof jumped out of the device. He was met with Darius' first Pokémon, a Fennekin, who started with a Fire attack right away.

"Come on, Bandit, use Rollout!"

I don't know if that's a good idea, boss. He's going to burn me if I do.

"My bad, my bad. Just keep dodging!"

From a considerable distance away, but still within the stadium, August could see Darius' expression. The other finalist had fire in his eyes, and his angry tears might as well have been lava.

Bandit did exactly as he was told, managing to dodge the Fennekin's Fire attacks masterfully. Even from this vantage point, August was able to notice the Fennekin's attack patterns and tell Bandit which way to flinch to avoid the flame.

"Left! Right! Left! Make him fall down!"

Darius' anger had seemingly been replaced by confusion. The dark-skinned man looked as though he'd never seen anything so odd as this. How could August have such a good handle on what his Pokémon were doing?

"You've got this, Bandit! Just use Rollout or Headbutt, whatever you need to knock him out. That Fennekin's pretty light!"

The Bidoof rolled into the Fennekin at just the right moment, when the latter Pokémon had been charging a Fire attack. It had been a gutsy move on Bandit's part, but it seemed to have paid off, knocking the Fennekin down.

"How!" Darius yelled, phrasing it as an exclamation rather than a question. Somehow, August was able to hear him from so far away; it must have been some yell.

August paid Darius no mind as the Fennekin fell to the ground. For a moment, August allowed himself to celebrate scoring a KO against his opponent.

This celebration, however, was short-lived.

The Fennekin stood up seconds later and was able to breathe some more fire. An ember even hit Bandit in the tail.

"Stop, drop, and roll!" August screamed.

Bandit did as he was told, rolling right into the Fennekin. He killed two birds with one stone; not only did he quench most of the flame, but he also knocked out Darius' first Pokémon.

And just like that, August had an early lead. It wasn't much, but it was certainly a good start. He heard Darius shout, "Get back, Pete!", recalling the Fennekin into his Pokéball and then putting it down. Bandit did a little dance, but he didn't have much time to bask in this win, because…

"Go, Zant! Show that Bidoof who's boss!"

A majestic feline creature, a Persian, came out of the next Pokéball and let out a howl of confidence. Bandit, meanwhile, hopped up and down in place.

"What are you doing?" August exclaimed at Bandit as he felt annoyance spike within himself. "Fight him!"

I can't, boss, Pete burned me!

"At least run away from the Persian's attacks!"

Bandit hopped around the arena, and that was when August noticed the flame on the Bidoof's tail. It was slowly growing; it had not been fully quenched, and would continue to feed on itself until something happened.

And then something did happen, though it wasn't what August had been hoping for.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet, and the Colosseum shook side to side. This wasn't an earthquake - August had viewed enough Pokémon battles to know that sometimes, the layout of the arena changed in the middle of a match. Indeed, that's what occurred this time.

Grass popped up all over the arena, and a pond materialized in one segment of it. Atop the layer of grass, flowers sprouted in several colors, pink and purple and yellow. There was even a windmill in one spot.

This is a Grass arena. I don't think that benefits either of our Pokémon.

"Jump in the water!" August shouted at Bandit. "Put out the fire!"

Bandit heeded this advice, but Zant had been expecting this. The Persian posted himself in front of the small body of water, running from side to side to block the Bidoof's access to salvation.

"Leap over him!" August yelled desperately.

Bandit jumped as high as he could, but Zant scratched him in midair. The Bidoof fell to the ground, seemingly unconscious.

Well, I guess we're tied now.

August recalled Bandit into his Pokéball and pulled out the next sphere in the knapsack. He tossed it on the ground, and out came Steve the Oshawott!

"Steve! Use Aqua Jet!" August shouted, hoping that the Oshawott could catch Zant off guard. He had to admit, of course, that it was going to be difficult to take down the Persian when the element of surprise was lost.

Still, why not try?

Steve used Aqua Jet, spraying the Persian forcefully with water. Something weird about cats is that they absolutely hate getting their fur wet for any reason - they will shake and shake to get the water all out.

Indeed, this is exactly what Zant did, and Steve took full advantage of this incapacitation, scratching and clawing at the Persian when it wasn't focused on anything but licking itself dry.

It wasn't too much longer until the Persian collapsed. This didn't deter Steve, though - even though Zant had clearly fainted, the Oshawott continued to use Tackle, Aqua Jet, and some general scratching and clawing until August had to call him off.

"Stop! He's already done!" August shouted, and Steve backed off.

Out of the corner of August's eye, he could see Darius glaring at him. The other finalist was clearly irate - but whether this was because he was losing, or because he thought something fishy was going on, was up for interpretation.

Darius recalled Zant into his Pokéball. With the familiar flash of red light, the Persian was gone from the battlefield. And August, though he couldn't rest on his laurels just yet, felt like cheering. He was pretty far up - if this had been a baseball game, they might be talking about the mercy rule.

It wouldn't last.

Just then, the arena shook once more, and the ground started another shift. This time, the air grew significantly stuffier, scorching and parched, much like what it must be like inside a lit fireplace.

The arena had become a hellscape of synthetic fire and burning shacks. And for the first time since the final match had begun, August felt his stomach sink below the Colosseum.

Steve has no chance here. I'm going to lose him before Darius loses his next Pokémon, and then we'll be tied! And I don't know if I can get back on track from that!

As Darius let out his next Pokémon, an Abra who began teleporting every which way about the arena, the words of Nurse Joy came back to August's mind. Now was the last time he'd hoped to consider them, but it was a case of the Donphan in the room - you just can't ignore it, no matter how hard you try.

Nurse Joy had warned him not to push his Pokémon too hard. Winning was important, but he couldn't let the cost be so great that victory wasn't worth it.

I'm going to do whatever it takes to win, even if it's against medical advice, August thought bitterly. The ends justify the means.

But it was clear that Steve didn't have the stamina to last long against the Thunder Punches the Abra kept dishing out. The Oshawott avoided almost all of them, but the actual attacks were only half the battle.

The most difficult factor for Steve was the arena itself. Even as a human rather than a Water-type Pokémon, August's shirt was caked in sweat. And he wasn't even in the middle of the artificial fiery landscape!

So it came as no surprise that Steve staggered woozily around the arena. Chasing the Abra feverishly, he'd probably end up giving himself a heat stroke if he wasn't careful. Yet he couldn't afford to be careful - not now.

"Steve, use Ice Beam!" August yelled.

But that move ended up being the Oshawott's downfall. Just the energy required to produce it caused Steve to faint, and August was forced to recall him. Now he was tied with Darius - two down, two to go, and hopefully August's Pokémon didn't "go" first.

Canaan the Riolu was the next Pokémon on his team. August barked out orders from the safety of the sidelines, and Canaan heeded them well enough, able to hear every command perfectly.

"This can't be right!" August thought he heard Darius yell. But the former trainer was too busy focusing on how to win the match; he couldn't worry about what his opponent had to say.

I might as well point out that Abra is very overpowered. Why the hell would this tournament allow such a Pokémon to be used? That sounds like cheating to me!

"Canaan, use Extreme Speed! Canaan, use Force Palm!"

August gave those two orders to his Riolu, not caring that the latter move was what had injured Canaan in the last battle. Winning this fight came first - the consequences could be dealt with later.

The Riolu was quick on his feet - that much was certain. But the Abra was quicker. Whenever Darius shouted, "Polus, use Teleport!", the Abra would reappear somewhere within the arena. And yes, Polus would tire eventually, but how much time did Canaan have to sprint before he grew exhausted as well?

A lot. Fighting-types are known for their stamina.

"Use Extreme Speed!" August bellowed again, hoping against hope that the Riolu could somehow catch up with Polus. Maybe there was still a chance…

Canaan launched a Force Palm at the Abra, and it finally connected with the Psychic-type's body. Polus fell to the ground, evidently dazed, while Canaan stood above his opponent, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

It wasn't unlike a boxing match, when one opponent knocks the other down and hopes they don't get up in time to stay in the game. The Riolu was just about to jump for joy when Polus stood back up.

Oh shit.

"Canaan! Get out of there, now!"

The Riolu ran away, but he wasn't fast enough. It seemed he'd understood too late.

The Abra's first move upon returning to his feet was a Fire Punch, and it hit Canaan squarely in the back. The Riolu collapsed to his knees, then closed his eyes. He wasn't getting back up.

August's heart sank as he recalled the Riolu into his Pokéball. He took out the fourth and final sphere, knowing that it was crunch time. If his last Pokémon wasn't able to take out both Polus and the last one standing from Darius' team, he would lose the tournament after having come so far, and yet so close to the million-Poké prize.

He threw the last Pokéball into the arena, where it opened, revealing a Sylveon. The Fairy-type was the only female on August's team, named Mariana. She was either going to save the day, or she would be the one who lost it for him.

I need the arena to shift again, he thought desperately. Please, Gamemakers, look down on me fondly today.

August got his wish. The ground trembled yet again, and the scene changed. Now, the ground consisted of numerous extremely powerful fans, so strong that both Mariana and Polus were lifted into the air. And then the action continued.

Polus used another Fire Punch to propel himself closer to Mariana, which was only partially successful. Mariana, unlike Canaan, had expected it, and was able to dodge the attack in midair.

"Mariana, let yourself float upward, then attack him from above!" August yelled.

The Sylveon surrendered to the fans, allowing them to lift her until she was at least fifty feet above the ground. Mariana then ended up on her stomach, flapping her arms as though swimming through the air.

Hopefully the fans don't turn off while they're still in the air. That's a long way to fall. And if both of them faint after falling, that means I lose, because Darius still has one more Pokémon!

"Mariana, use Tackle!"

The Sylveon "swam" forward and kicked wildly about, hoping to knock Polus down. And her kicks did eventually connect, sending the Abra falling from the sky. Of course, the strength of the fans meant that gravity didn't do its job. Not fully, anyway.

The Abra floated back up, much like an apple does in a barrel full of water. Polus was clearly dazed and confused after this; he kicked around in an effort to get Mariana in the head, but he was unsuccessful in this effort. Instead, he kicked Mariana in the stomach.

Oh no! Is this it?

The Sylveon recoiled in pain, but the attack seemed to have only made her angrier. Mariana let out an almighty growl before leaning forward and using Tackle on the Abra.

Polus was knocked beyond the boundary of the fans and fell towards the ground. This time, the wind power did not arrest his descent, and he landed on the floor of the arena with a sickening thud. He didn't get up.

From far away, August could see Darius pressing the button on his Pokéball to send Polus back to a place where he could recover. (They said that the inside of Pokéballs were quite comfortable for their inhabitants, something August, for obvious reasons, could neither confirm nor deny.)

Darius threw his last Pokéball on the ground, and out came his last hope: A Hitmonlee.

August gulped. He'd hoped that when it came down to both of their last Pokémon, it would be an even match. It no longer seemed that way, to say the very least, particularly with Mariana clutching her stomach.

Had he been of sound mind, August might have withdrawn Mariana from the match. Even if it meant second place (which was ultimately a loss), the Sylveon quite possibly had internal bleeding as a result of the kick. But the young man was focused on one thing, and one thing only: Winning.

I'm not sick of winning now, that's for sure.

The arena shifted yet again; this time, the rumbling was far more intense than it had been before this. And, all of a sudden, the Alola Colosseum had reverted to its original layout.

"Tyson, use Brick Break! You've got the advantage!" August heard Darius scream from the other side of the arena.

Darius is right. He has the advantage…for now.

Tyson the Hitmonlee produced a brick out of thin air and lobbed it at the Sylveon. August's chest felt hot, but there was no time to waste.

"Jump out of the way, Mariana!" August shouted. "There's a brick!"

August thought he heard Tyson laugh at the former's "Captain Obvious" behavior, but he didn't let himself care about that.

After that, everything was a blur. One might think that in the midst of such a momentous battle, August would have been tuned firmly into what was happening, that he wouldn't dare tear his eyes away from it. But that wasn't the case.

Instead, the young man's perception of time sped up significantly. He watched the fight continue, and occasionally reflexively shouted commands to Mariana, but it was just that: A reflex. He didn't think too hard about anything.

That is, until the Sylveon and Hitmonlee got into a tussle.

"Yeah, pummel him!" August yelled, so loudly that he shivered. It was almost sickening to hear himself command his Pokémon to be so aggressive, but it was part of the battle, and he needed to win at all costs.

The struggle continued, and some of the dust from the arena (why was there dust there, anyway?) was kicked up. A cloud began to form, and August had to squint to see through it.

"Get him in the eye!" August exclaimed at the top of his lungs. "Stun him!"

Darius was also shouting demands at Tyson, but the Hitmonlee was merely kicking about at random, seemingly not knowing which way he had to kick to knock Mariana out.

I can see into the cloud better than Darius can. That might make the difference here!

There was some more punching, kicking, and hopping, but in the end, it was Tyson who came out of the dust cloud looking decidedly worse off. The Hitmonlee fell onto his back, panting heavily.

"Finish him!" August demanded.

Mariana began singing a lullaby, which fortunately only worked on Pokémon; August wanted to be fully awake and conscious for this moment. That moment, of course, was when he would declare victory.

Within seconds, Tyson was snoring. The Hitmonlee's body demanded rest after the "pummeling" he had endured at Mariana's paws, and he did not get up.

"All of Darius Gilmore's Pokémon are unable to battle!" the announcer shouted. "Congratulations to August Hemlock on his victory in the Alolan Championship!"

August dropped to his knees as though thanking Arceus for his win. He wasn't one to do that, of course; it wasn't like him to throw away credit for an accomplishment.

He did, however, have someone else to thank. Whether or not she was present, August hoped he'd made her proud.

"Thank you" he mumbled as Mariana staggered back to his side. The Sylveon probably thought August was expressing his gratitude to her - that wasn't the truth.

Nobody can know the truth. Nobody.