*This is a fully written & completed 95k-word novella broken into 23 chapters. Check out the "Release Schedule/Summary" chapter for more info on further chapter release dates across June/July 2023! Thanks so much again for tuning in & reading!
...
"The time has come!"
The Wyndon Stadium crowd ROARED out, its fevering fans stacked high in an unending ocean of seats up into the Galar sky,
before hushing down to a stone-drop silence;
For they were in the presence of Champions.
And there he stood:
Lance, The Dragon Master himself, his arms spread wide with a new grand command, his cape billowing wildly in the Wyndon breeze as the captivated crowd watched on, hanging on his every last word.
"Trainers of the Kanto Region! Trainers of the Johto Region! All of you; just watch me battle!"
Lance could feel the thousands of eyes daring down on him; the trainers, the spectators, the journalists & experts, the cameras and the fans tuning in from every corner of the globe. It always ignited him; surging through his bones like a fresh electric terrain, empowering his every step as he studied this grand royal stage.
His silver eyes peered up past the spotlights to dart across the arena. He felt quite sorry for his opponent today, his eyes now finding her clean, pearlescent coat as it defiantly bounced the stadium lights right back out to him.
"And you, Diantha!" He pointed up a daggered finger to the posh Kalos Champion, in equal parts showmanship and distain, "As a Dragon Master, I ask that you bring only your best to battle my dragon brigade!"
The crowd erupted again at this heated exchange, with calling cheers from the highest tiers in the stadium echoing down to the solemn battleground, where the Dragon Master hoped to take home another win.
Yes, the win; He would not settle for anything less.
And while all the world watched, the bellowing spirit of the fervent crowd reaching its fever pitch in witness of these Champions & their pride, one pair of cerulean eyes looked on from beyond the camera's gaze:
Maya sat in the nearly empty production control room of the legendary stadium, ready to lead her trusty camera team to do what they do best: broadcast this most-anticipated match to the world in waiting.
Her petite frame looked even smaller beneath the enormous monitors and computer towers, each displaying a different camera angle of the stars of this world-class show. Her long layered hair, the bronzing color of a wild Noctowl's wings, was pinned back and away from her heart-shaped face as she studied each monitor closely. Her tiny wrists were pinned to the switchboard in front of her at the ready.
She adjusted the headset that arced beneath her freckled face, talking quietly into the mic to her most trusted camera operator.
"Kadabra, be ready to switch to the wide shot after they throw out their first picks, okay?"
"Dabra!"
Her faithful ace Kadabra, a bulky TV camera mounted firmly to its shoulder, was filming the match from deep within the crowded stands, keeping its camera on Lance as the masses hollered around him.
And in the blink of an eye and a brilliant white FLASH, Kadabra and its camera vanished; only to reappear again in an instant on the second balcony level, getting a new angle on the match to await the big reveal.
"For this round, each contestant gets 3 pokémon!"
As the referee called out the rules of the match, Maya held her breath and watched each monitor carefully, another camera still aimed at Lance's sly smile.
Even with the type disadvantage against Diantha's ace, every single one of the media commentators and experts were predicting that Lance would come out on top, even the ones from the Kalosian stations. In fact, they were so confident that the Lead Producer of the Saffron Times had already instructed Maya to begin making the graphics and articles for tomorrow's headline: "Lance and his Dragons Rage on to the Next Round!"
Maya's eyes lingered on the close-up shot of Lance, standing proud and dutiful on the field.
She had never seen him battle in-person before.
Yet his presence was certainly commanding; His cape billowed in the cool wind of the day, fluttering majestically just above the ground like a fleet of diving, hungry Spearow over tall Kantonian grass. His royal Galarian-inspired suit fit him like a glove, the orange pinstripe accents highlighting the rust of his hair, the high lift of his gothic collar grazing just under his ears with a valiant, yet vaguely sinister vibe.
With a mighty throw, he wound back and launched his pokeball out to the field, the sly smile still plastered over his face. His legendary Dragonite burst forth; enormous, towering, terrifying.
"You're from Kanto, aren't cha'?" The local Galarian Producer of the show leaned over to Maya, a donut hanging from his mouth. Maya nodded proudly with a small smile. "Did you ever get the chance to meet Lance?"
Her eyes found the Dragon Master's on the screen again, lost in thought for a moment. She had heard many myths and legends about the man; of his incredibly strong team of fearsome dragons, and his renowned & royal place as her hometown's final Champion at the Plato.
But beyond the myth of the man, she knew but little else about him.
"No," Maya finally replied, her voice trailing off as she quickly thought back to her younger years as a teenager gallivanting through Kanto, "Never did. I dropped out of the League's rat race long before the Elite Four, so I never ran into him. I have friends who have seen him battle, though."
The Producer glances back to the monitor, stars in his eyes. "He really is amazing. Top Champion of two whole regions, leader of the Indigo Plato, his work managing the League, not to mention all the under-cover work he did to take down Team Rocket. And now number 4 in the whole world!" He took another bite of his breakfast, "I actually interviewed him once, when he donated all that money to the Pewter Museum of Science."
Maya didn't move her eyes from the screen, watching the camera change to the wide-shot that Kadabra had set up. Perfect shot, she thinks to herself. The crowd was on their feet at the sight of his Dragonite's imposing aura.
"Oh yeah?" she asks aloud, "What was he like?"
On Camera 2's feed, the crowd went wild as Diantha threw out her first pokeball, her dazzling Aurorus forming proudly in the light. The beast's alluring mane sparkled as it shimmered beneath the stadium lights, stretching like a glimmering silken gown along its burly neck.
"Actually," The Producer thinks back, "He was kind of... scary. He didn't crack a smile the entire interview." His voice trails off, lost in thought. "Still though, it was an honor to meet him." He takes another chomping bite of his donut as they turn back to the monitors again. "Man, would you look at that Aurorus? What a powerhouse."
That's kind of sad, Maya thinks to herself. Wouldn't a guy with so many accomplishments even be able to fake a smile for the camera?
She did remember hearing about Lance's stately contribution to the Museum, only half-recalling that he did it to thank the Curator for his research on Pokémon fossils.
Or maybe he did it for the tax write-off for the League, the jaded part of her thinks.
"Aurorus, Light Screen!"
"Use Hyper Beam!"
As the glowing shield from Aurorus cascaded forward, Lance's Dragonite drew in a massive, forceful breath. Lunging forward, it unleashed its destructive beam of pure ruination, glowing with a brutal shade of melted-Moltres orange as it launched out from Dragonite's mouth and clear across the battlefield. It SLAMMED into the light screen with a rumbling CRASH.
BOOM!
Be still, her heart; the entire stadium shook wildly as the moves collided, Maya's chair jumping in place as she watched the Hyper Beam explode on the monitors.
She had always been addicted to this part of battling; the rush, the excitement, the energy, the fire... This power; it was devastating, and Maya just couldn't look away.
But after a moment, her brow furrowed in confusion; why would Lance start with a Hyper Beam? Why, out of all the moves that surely his ace could deliver, would he choose to open with something so offensive, yet so short-lived? Not to mention paralyzing; Dragonite now stood there frozen, its muscles aching, its wings drooping down aimlessly with fatigue. Positively vulnerable.
"Blizzard!" Diantha sung out, watching as Aurorus immediately obeyed. With the trill of its tongue, Aurorus blasted out a chilling mist of frozen wind, hitting Dragonite head-on with the super-effective attack.
Dragonite's teeth clenched in pain; it's wings struggling to fight back against the torrential blizzard, attempting to balance its body in the wind with the endurance of a warrior.
"Close up on the wings, Kadabra." She hushed into her microphone. Before her eyes, the view on the monitor suddenly changed to an intimate shot of the dragon's orange wings, beating hard against the sting of the freeze.
Maya couldn't help but admire the dragon's resiliency. There was just something so exceptionally powerful about withstanding such a vicious attack, and the discipline it must take to even stay on its feet with the eyes of the crowd watching its every move. She couldn't deny it; Dragonite had been trained very well.
But Maya's grin suddenly faded. Camera 1 was still aimed right at Lance's face, and he still had that sly, pompous smile from ear to ear. His dark, Dusknoir-grey eyes narrowed as he watched his Dragonite stand back up tall, defiant in the face of the Blizzard.
His eyes, Maya thought. There was something about them. They were as two hazy storms over the Seafoam Sea, growing with tenacity with every passing minute, yet clouded by something so ominous.
His choice of attacks were purely physical, she thought. But they were beyond the usual onslaught of Dragon Claws and Pulses... they were positively brutal, unrelenting, imposing; as if he was purposefully ignoring the defensive side of the coin, disregarding any strategy for protection.
And even from behind the glow of the monitor, tucked away in the cave of the control room, Maya couldn't help but notice something else: the tension in Lance's taught shoulders, broad and steady, his guard all the way up. And yet, almost ironically, his Pokémon were left standing defenseless.
Oh no, Maya thought, the realization dawning on her. She sighed, quickly retrieving her laptop from her backpack and opening up her work file for tomorrow's news graphics. She quickly began cutting away the archive images of Lance for tomorrow's story.
"What are you doing?" The Producer asked, trying not to turn away from the action, "The match just started."
He watched as Maya's fingers danced quickly over the keys, rewriting headlines and re-coloring the graphics to match the Kalos champions' illustrious white décor.
Maya looked up at him for a moment and shook her head, glancing back at the monitor for another look at Lance's rigid, disciplined face, his silver eyes still painted in cocky defiance.
"He's not gonna win."
"You got the b-camera lenses?"
"Yep"
"And the microphone batteries are charged?"
"They're fresh, I just checked them."
Maya and the local Producer hustled down the empty halls of the stadium, the roar of the crowd still emanating above them in the stands beyond the ceiling. The battle had just ended, and they needed to film their post-interview with Diantha before her talent manager got to her first.
"Dabra!" Kadabra appeared beside Maya in a FLASH and handed her an empty camera battery. Maya quickly handed it a fresh one as they kept up the pace.
"Amazing job out there, Kadabra," she smiled, "it was perfect. You got some great footage."
"Kadabra!"
Kadabra installed the new battery just in time, the trio now making their way to the VIP talent exit that lead to the box seats. They could see Diantha walking away from another flurry of cameras, and crossed their fingers that she would stop for a quote.
"Diantha!" the Producer shouted out, "Congratulations on the win, a quick word for the Saffron Times?"
Diantha smiled as she approached them, placing her hands on her hips. She was practically glowing; the win looked good on her. Kadabra readied its camera and the Producer switched on his microphone.
"Maya," The Producer hushed down to her, "Go find a place to charge that dead battery, we're gonna need it."
He shooed her away, moments before outstretching a hand to greet the stylish Champion. Maya stood back incredulously, only a little shocked that someone else would yet again be the one to experience the fun part of the job.
"Diantha, tell us what was going through your mind during that amazing battle. Were you nervous?"
Maya turned to walk away, only hearing the tail end of Diantha's answer as she hurried down the hallway with the battery tucked under her arm. She finally spotted a locker room up ahead and quietly ducked inside, crossing her fingers for a spare outlet she could hijack. If she hurried, maybe she could catch the end of the interview.
Scanning over a fleet of lockers in the empty stillness of the room, Maya finally found an outlet hiding near the floor by a set of benches. She kneeled down to the tile, plugging in the battery carefully.
SLAM!
The sudden metal sound of a locker, as it slammed closed on the far side of the room made Maya's heart jump. She didn't even think to check if anyone else had come in here; she assumed it was empty, as everyone else was still in the stands awaiting the next round's battle.
Her body still kneeling to the floor, she quietly tiptoed her way to the end of a short partition of lockers, peaking around the corner to find the source of the angry noise.
And there he was:
Lance, the revered Champion, the valiant Dragon Master himself, standing with his hand welded to the metal door of a locker. He seemed frozen; lost in this new fog of his defeat.
Maya held her breath tightly as she observed him. His statuesque frame dwarfed over the benches, his regal suit now heavy with rainwater from the hailstorm's melted ice that had pummeled the battlefield just minutes ago. What a disastrous strategy, he thought to himself, the tail ends of his famous cape now bitten and frayed from the sharp shreds of ice that had struck him.
The Max Hailstorm had really soaked him; his once scarlet-colored hair was now a wet & darkened garnet stone, like a rainy sunset over the cliffsides of Mt. Moon. His eyes shut as he remembered all the steps he didn't take.
With a closed fist, he PUNCHED the metal door of the locker in frustration, immediately denting it into a crater.
Maya's body jumped at the sound, clasping over her mouth, holding herself down to the cold tile as best as she could.
Her face flushed with heat; she shouldn't be seeing this, but she couldn't look away.
Even in this moment of solitude, away from any knowing eyes, she could still see the profound tension in his shoulders; two stone-edge blades pinned back, the weight of this loss seemingly heavier than all of his past victories combined.
FLASH! In a beam of crimson light, his Dragonite suddenly appeared on its own, emerging from its pokeball without the call of its trainer. It gave Lance a heartbroken look, placing its mammoth orange paw on his back as it let out a soothing coo.
"No Dragonite. It's okay," Lance hushed to his friend, his voice low and raspy, "You were incredible out there. I am the one who let you down."
He inspected his hand that had punched the locker, finding it a bit bruised and bloodied. He sighed, resting the hand on Dragonite's shoulder.
"Let's go, old friend." He began walking further down the line of lockers before exiting at the opposite door, Dragonite floating along behind him.
Maya waited until the sound of his footsteps fully disappeared before letting out a heavy sigh of relief. She sat upright, leaning her back up against the row of cold lockers, thanking the angels of Arceus that she hadn't been spotted.
Looking up, her eyes then traced over the hollow dent that Lance had pummeled into the locker's metal frame. It had immediately crumpled beneath his rage, an outlet that she was sure he wasn't proud of.
Though she could tell that there was something more here; something holding him back, from tearing the door off its hinges and giving in to the destruction of his anger in the light of this new shame. Yes, Maya was sure of it... he was holding himself back; carrying something much heavier than this one simple loss, by the heaving of his chest and his Everstone eyes, and those aching shoulders hiding just beneath the royal rags of his cape.
Maya shook away the thought, lifting herself up from the floor. She couldn't stay distracted by this stolen moment. Her and Kadabra's day was only halfway over.