Endgame Part 2:
I stare blankly across the battlefield. My mind is whirring away, but it's just a mess. I don't understand what to do. I have to figure out how to defeat something I can't hit and I have to do it quickly. There has to be a hint in everything we covered yesterday. Perhaps using the battlefield in some way? No, that's not it. Using the battlefield myself was to counter Mark using it to dodge. I can use the core idea of that theory though…
"Go, Clefable!"
Mark places a hand on his chin. He looks so thoughtful. I don't like it. He's weighing up the situation. I don't want him catching on to what I have planned. After a moment, he shakes his head and reaches for his Poké Balls. That isn't what I wanted to see.
"I'm not buying it," he says, "Espeon, return. Go, Aggron."
The mere presence of Aggron crushes any hope I felt I had left. This is the Pokémon of Mark's that I had dreaded the most. The problem of overcoming Espeon seems insignificant when faced with this monster. How do I scratch it before it rips through what remains of my team?
"Heavy Slam," Mark says.
"Protect," I counter.
Aggron charges forward, unaffected by the sludge splashing against its metal body. It towers over Clefable and throws all of its weight onto the shield of energy surrounding my Pokémon. I had expected it to bounce back and stagger, providing me with an opening. Instead, it lies on top of Clefable's protection. It's hard to tell, but I think the shield is being weakened. The sheer force of Aggron's power and weight behind it are starting to overwhelm what is supposed to be an impenetrable barrier.
"Earthquake," Mark says.
Aggron jumps from the barrier and lands on the ground with incredible force. The stadium shakes to its foundations and Clefable tumbles over backwards. Clefable's protection is gone and Aggron towers over my defenceless Pokémon, waiting for the command of its trainer. Aggron's face emanates pure malice. It is so eager to crush Clefable that it can barely contain itself before Mark gives it the all clear.
"Finish it!" Mark calls out.
Aggron throws itself forward and comes crashing down on Clefable. I flinch at the sight of my Pokémon disappearing under the metal monster. There is nothing I can do, there was nothing I could do before. No, that's wrong. I could have conceded to avoid putting Clefable through this.
Satisfied, Aggron climbs back to its feet to reveal Clefable twitching helplessly. I return Clefable before the referee can even make his declaration. It doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore. I'm doing everything I can and it isn't enough. I have just two Pokémon left to take on five of Mark's. I understand the position Flourette was in now. There is no turning back, no giving in. I just have to keep doing everything I can to get some kind of consolation.
There is a difference between my situation and Flourette's though. It means so much more. There's a lot more at stake. My half-sister is at stake and now I'm supposed to accept that I've lost and try to come out of this with my head held high?
"I refuse to give up!" I shout, trying to convince myself more than anyone else, "Goodra, come on out!"
"That's sweet," Mark says, "You don't want to give up, so instead you set yourself on a course of suicide? I can understand you accepting defeat, but there are better ways to go about it. Aggron, Ice Punch!"
"Flamethrower!" I respond, ignoring everything he says apart from his attack choice.
Aggron rushes forward, fist held high and glowing blue. Goodra stands tall and launches a stream of fire straight at Aggron. The fire strikes Aggron's fist. The Ice Punch at least is neutralised, but it's not stopping Aggron's charge. Aggron roars and pushes on through the flames.
"Goodra, block it!" I cry out.
I have an idea. I just hope it can work. Part of it relies on Goodra trusting me enough to know and go through with what I'm planning.
Goodra stops its attack and braces for an impact. Goodra holds its arms out and catches Aggron's fists. Aggron keeps pushing though. Goodra pushes down on the ground. The sticky goo coating its body is helping it to stay in place and Aggron tries to slam into it. My plan is working so far, but Aggron is far too powerful and Goodra is slipping back slightly.
"Now, hug it," I say.
Mark and Aggron both stare wide eyed as Goodra releases Aggron and jumps onto it. Goodra wraps its arms and legs around Aggron as best it can. With nothing to stop it now, Aggron ploughs onwards a few steps before stumbling over. Goodra is trapped beneath the weight of the metallic beast, but can definitely take it better than Clefable did.
"Aggron, get up and then crush it with Heavy Slam," Mark says, trying to regain control of the situation.
Aggron doesn't move. It certainly did hear the command, but it can do nothing about it. All of the close contact with Goodra has allowed the sticky slime to get in and lock Aggron's joints in place. It can't move by itself.
"Thunderbolt!"
Goodra unleashes a burst of powerful electricity. It surges through Aggron's body. Its metal skin conducts the electricity and only makes its suffering worse. Aggron roars in agony, but it is a tough Pokémon. It takes a second burst of electricity to truly finish it off. Sadly, the whole experience has cost Goodra dearly. My second to last Pokémon is on its last legs.
Mark returns his Aggron. He is visibly distressed that I've managed to take down such a monstrous force even though it's still probably too late for it to matter. Goodra slowly tries to stand up. It's in great pain and looks back to me with sadness in its eyes. I now start to worry. We have only just started to work together again. Putting it through so much straight away might have been too much.
"Charizard, to the skies," Mark says and throws his Poké Ball up into the air.
Charizard emerges and immediately takes flight. Even in his position, Mark is taking every precaution to ensure his victory. He doesn't want to take the chance with the remaining puddles of sludge dotted around the scarred battlefield.
"Dragon Pulse!" Mark orders.
Charizard rears its head back and fires a powerful blast of energy down towards Goodra. I call for Goodra to hit Charizard's wings with Thunderbolt. My worst fears are realised as Goodra ignores my command and instead tackles Charizard's attack head on with a Dragon Pulse of its own. The attacks collide mid-air. The resulting explosion covers the battlefield in smoke. I reluctantly take the opportunity to do what needs to be done.
"Goodra concedes!" I say and hold out Goodra's Poké Ball.
I don't know what Goodra's reaction is, but I know that I feel this is the best thing to do for both of us. Goodra wouldn't last long anyway. So, if it's not going to listen to me, I'd rather try and preserve what connection I can by protecting it from further suffering. This decision does mean I am down to my final Pokémon though.
"Go, Milotic," I say.
Me and Milotic against the world. With Crobat in its condition, this is how I want it to be. I have an impossible task ahead of me, but there is no partner I'd rather have fight alongside me. If Melissa is watching or at least knows what's happening, this is what she would want too. Except it probably isn't. She would want me to win. What is even going to happen to her if I can't win?
I can't think about that now. I have to focus on the battle. Mark is sticking with Charizard. I don't understand what he's playing at, but there's no use dwelling on it.
"Milotic use Aqua Ring," I say. If I am to have any hopes of winning the long game, this has to be the foundation.
"Air Slash," Mark says.
Charizard swoops down to attack. A strong wind blows across the battlefield. However, it won't reach Milotic. That was never Mark's plan. It slices through the puddles of poison on the ground and splashes towards Milotic. Thankfully, it's not as effective as Mark hoped. Aqua Ring acts as a shield and washes the poison away before it can touch Milotic.
"Ice Beam," I say.
A thin beam of blue light shoots up into the sky heading for Charizard. Despite how sudden the attack is, Charizard makes a move to avoid it. Just as I hoped, the attack clips onto Charizard's wing. A small piece of ice forms around the edge of the wing where the attack connected. This and the sheer shock of beating hit distracts Charizard enough for me to attempt my next move.
"Precision shot!" I call out quickly, knowing timing is the important factor here.
Milotic repeats its attack. This time able to aim properly without risk of Charizard dodging while it tries to defrost its wing. The Ice Beam strikes Charizard's other wing directly and as hoped, the wing begins to freeze over.
Mark watches on. He knows that no intervention he can make at this point will make a difference. We both watch as Charizard loses its ability to fly properly and plummets to the Earth. Charizard crashes down onto the battlefield, landing in one of the puddles of poison. I quickly check my Battle Gear. I can do this. I just need to finish what I started.
"Milotic, Scald!"
The serpentine Pokémon twists elegantly before unleashing the final attack, a jet of boiling hot water. The heat won't affect Charizard, but the water should be enough to extinguish its fighting spirit.
"Charizard is unable to battle!" the referee declares. I can't celebrate or be confident yet. It's taken so much to take out just half of Mark's Pokémon. The comeback might be on, but completing it is still a long way off.
"Go, Espeon," Mark says. He still seems calm and in control.
"Close range Ice Beam," I say.
Mark raises an eyebrow at me. Our Pokémon are at opposite ends of the battlefield with a torn and poison soaked landscape in between. The idea of getting in close to attack under these conditions is ridiculous even for the strategies I have to try and pull off to win this. His mistake is assuming that's what I intend to do.
Milotic doesn't move out of place. The target is still close range though. The crowd gasps collectively as the ring of water that encircled Milotic freezes into a sphere around my Pokémon. Milotic can just be seen curled up through the icy exterior.
"Now, roll!" I order.
"Psychic," Mark responds calmly.
Milotic rolls its ice ball over the battlefield, safe from the risk of poison. As it gets closer, Espeon's eyes glow and the ball rises into the air. It then slams back to the ground and the ice shatters. However, inside is another shield. As I expected from Milotic, it is using Protect to deflect the shards of ice and soften the blow of landing. Its next move is to quickly throw itself to a clear part of the battlefield.
Now on safe ground much closer to Espeon than before, Milotic is ready to take on the elusive Psychiic Pokémon.
"Persistent fool!" Mark shouts unexpectedly, "You will not stop me finding my father! Espeon, Psychic!"
I should have expected this at some point. Espeon's eyes glow one final time and Milotic screeches in agony. This goes beyond the telekinetic abilities of Psychic. It attacks the Pokémon directly, shaking the very core of its mind. This is the end. This is the decisive move. Nothing can recover from it. I stare for what seems like an eternity as my Pokémon begs to be spared. Eventually, Milotic is freed from its torment and immediately collapses. It is over.
"Milotic is unable to battle!" the referee declares as the noise levels in the stadium explode, "Ladies and gentlemen, your World Champion is Mark Young!"
I instinctively return Milotic to its Poké Ball as I look on. It really is over. I got so far. I did everything I could. In the end, it wasn't enough. It was never enough. I'm not good enough to be a World Champion. I shouldn't even have got this far. What's worse is that I've failed. Not just myself, but everyone I care about. What will happen to Melissa now that I've lost? Surely Lancelot can't get away with this? I let everyone down, especially my dad.
I fall to my hands and knees. Tears stream down my face as I realise the extent of how badly I've messed up. I'm powerless. No, more than that, I'm useless.
I want the world to just disappear. I want to curl up in a hole somewhere. I have never felt so low. But I can't ignore what's going on around me. There is a strange murmur around the stadium that disrupts the celebrations. I look up. Mark is still stood. He doesn't look particularly happy despite having won. He just stares towards the tunnel.
I look over towards the tunnel to see what he's looking at. There seems to be nothing out of the ordinary. A moment later, Lancelot Elderidge emerges. The man looks like a king in his white suit and cape as he walks towards the battlefield. In one hand, he carries a golden pole of some sort. At the top of it is a mysterious orb of some kind with purple gas swirling around inside. What is that? I would have expected him to bring out a trophy, not this. Is this the trophy? If so, what kind of trophy is it?
"Alright Elderidge," Mark shouts, silencing the crowd, "You promised me answers, where is my father?"
"All in due time," Lancelot says with a smile, "Congratulations on your victory, truly a deserved champion if there ever was one."
"Out with it already!" Mark shouts. His fists are clenched tightly at his sides and his face is burning red with anger. He has lost his patience fast. After waiting so long, he wants his answers immediately. It's understandable.
"I suppose you deserve an explanation. Both of you," Lancelot says and looks across to me briefly, "Miss Wexler, thank you, you made a fine puppet."
I freeze. What does he mean? I feel like he's talking about more than just forcing me to battle with a motivation, but I don't know what. My mind is drawing a complete blank.
"As you have both suspected for a while, not that one of you remembers, this tournament was all a set up. And, yes, I was the one behind it. Such good deductions, not that it matters," Lancelot says. His words are chilling. I think he's suggesting that I don't remember things. That would explain why I was so confused when my dad said I passed out.
"Just get to the damn point!" Mark shouts.
"Patience," Lancelot says, "You have waited this long, surely a few more minutes will not hurt? Now, allow me to explain. When you battle, you create a special form of energy. Too many people confuse it for an adrenaline rush. This energy is very special, despite not having too many practical uses. The more effort you put into the battle, the more energy you produce. The same goes for your determination, skill and so forth. The stronger the trainer, the greater the source of energy."
"You've been harvesting this energy from us, haven't you?" Mark asks. He quickly grabs his Battle Gear and tries to rip it from his arm.
"Sorry, I had to lock it to allow you to hear the explanation," Lancelot chuckles. Why is this so funny to him? What's he playing at? "Yes, I harvested the contestants at this tournament. An unexpected Mega Evolution was a grand addition to the crop. However, that was not the sole reason I set up this tournament. What I wanted was you!"
Lancelot points his unusual staff directly at Mark rather dramatically. I can't get my head around what he's saying. None of it makes sense to me. I can't think at all. My entire memory seems to be failing me.
"You gave us these motivations to make sure you found the greatest source, am I right?" Mark asks.
"Of course, I would expect nothing less in terms of deduction from someone who had his suspicions before the tournament even began. Now here's the big question, why do I want to find the greatest source of this very special battle-created energy?" Lancelot asks.
He's toying with us. This is total madness. My mind feels like it's crumbling with every passing moment and Lancelot is stood there… laughing. Mark is close to losing it as well, though it seems like his madness would involve going mad and probably assaulting Lancelot. Mark can't answer the question. He just grits his teeth and grunts.
"No answer? A shame, perhaps I expected too much," Lancelot says, "It's simple, I need a sacrifice. The harvested energy can only open the gate. I need an offering to feed the beast that lives beyond!"
Lancelot is laughing like a maniac. His cool and composed façade crumbles to reveal total insanity. He lifts to staff high into the air and the orb on top glows with a dark purple light. The same light erupts from Mark's Battle Gear. Screams fill my ears, most notably Mark's, as a horrifying purple fire bursts from the ground and consumes Mark.
A searing pain fills my left arm. Suddenly, I'm screaming and clutching my wrist in pain. I can feel my strength leaving my body in one excruciating burst. If I hadn't already fallen to my knees, I would be on the floor now. I writhe in agony. My mind turns back to Milotic at the end of my battle. This is what that must have felt like. I can never do that again. If I ever wake up from this nightmare, I will never force a Pokémon to battle again.
I wish it was a nightmare that I could wake from.
My breath is gone. I can cry no more. The pain is too much. Then in a blink of an eye, it stops. A flash of blue appears before my eyes and amongst all the noise I can hear a shattering. Pieces of my Battle Gear fall to the floor around me. That was what was causing my suffering and now that it is broken, the pain subsides. My strength is still gone. It takes everything I have to turn my head in search of my saviour.
In the corner of my eye, I swear I catch a glimpse of a Greninja before it disappears in an instant. Was that what saved me? Yes, my wrist is slightly damp. It must have been a water based attack. But whose Greninja was it?
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking! Run for your lives!" the voice of Thomas Byrne booms over the speakers, "I've always wanted to do that."
I turn back to Mark. He is no longer there. Instead, there is a ring of that strange purple fire and inside is what I can only describe as a vortex. Lancelot stands next to it, cheering to the sky in demented excitement.
"Arise, Giratina!"