Pokémon Legendary: An Adult Pokémon Story
Copyright© 2025 by Subconscious_P
Chapter 18
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 18 - An adult semi-erotic Pokémon story set in a more realistic and brutal Pokémon world. Follow a Pokémon Region Champion as he and his rivals race to unlock the secrets of Legendary and mythical Pokémon while facing an unknown threat unlike anything he's faced before. Our champion and rivals will put their lives on the line as they face lethal puzzles, god-tier Pokemon, a deadly stalker, an evil alliance, and the the most powerful trainers in the world. This story is not meant for commercial use.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction Cheating White Female Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Public Sex
The broadcast of the press conference didn’t really end. It multiplied.
Across every region, every time zone, and every language, the press conference replayed on loop until it stopped feeling like “news” and started feeling like a warning siren embedded into society itself. Among a thousand channels and a million screens, one sentence repeated like a scripture:
“This isn’t sensationalism anymore. This is war.”
On Kanto News 1, a polished anchorwoman sat stiff-backed at a glass desk, eyes too bright under studio lighting.
“This marks the first official confirmation of a coalition between multiple criminal empires. Some of which were believed dismantled for years.”
Behind her, Jenny’s face froze mid-frame on a massive screen.
‘THE SYNDICATE — GLOBAL TERROR LABEL ISSUED’
The anchor continued. “International Police officials are urging the public to remain calm—”
She hesitated, then corrected herself.
“—and remain indoors if sightings are reported.”
On the Hoenn Emergency Broadcast Network, the feed was shakier and less polished. The anchors looked like they hadn’t slept.
On a split screen there was footage of the aftermath of the Pacifidlog Town attack. Destroyed floating homes, broken pylons, and people shivering in foil blankets continually flashed on the screens.
A male anchor swallowed.
“They didn’t just attack a town.”
He stared directly into the camera.
“They erased it.”
On the Sinnoh World Report — Special Panel, a roundtable of analysts and retired investigators discussed the press conference and what to expect next.
A grey-haired man in an expensive suit leaned forward, furious.
“Interpol is overwhelmed.”
A woman beside him snapped:
“They’re not overwhelmed, they’re outmatched.”
Another analyst, younger, with a clean haircut and a government pin sat up straighter.
“If this is real, then Champions and Elite Four members may need to be drafted into coordinated response teams.”
The host blinked. “Drafted?”
The analyst didn’t blink back.
“Yes. Drafted.”
On Kalos: Lumiose Prime, a commentator spoke with theatrical fear, gesturing wildly at a replay of Kyogre’s silhouette rising through black rain. “This is a geopolitical catastrophe! A military catastrophe! A catastrophe of myth!” He stabbed a finger toward the screen. “If the Syndicate can control Legendaries, then the concept of regional sovereignty becomes meaningless!”
Then on the Unova 24, a hard-nosed anchor read like he was delivering indictment.
“Giovanni Vittorio. Maxie Aarden. Archie Aogiri. Lysandre Beaulieu. Cyrus Nihilis ... Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius.”
As each name dropped, an image flashed beside it with a mugshot, old footage, or a silhouette.
The anchor’s voice turned colder.
“Six criminals. One alliance..., and now?”
He stared down the camera like he was speaking to a jury.
“Multiple Legendaries have been confirmed to be compromised in the last several weeks.”
In the aftermath of the press conference, social media erupted. Phones buzzed nonstop, holoscreens lit up, and notifications stacked so fast they became unreadable. The world didn’t just react, it convulsed. The following topics were trending worldwide:
#Syndicate #Kyogre #GroudonMassacre #InterpolLies #DraftTheChampions #DivineChallenge #AceTomlinson
@RUSTBORO_DAD They control Kyogre. KYOGRE. I grew up thinking that thing was just a legend! Tell me how I’m supposed to send my kid to school tomorrow.
@LUNAGUA4LIFE Cancel the Divine Challenge NOW. People are dying in Hoenn and Calypso is still doing gladiator shit.
@HOENNTRUEPATRIOT Hoenn first. Protect OUR region. Close the skies. Close ports. No outside trainers unless licensed, vetted, and approved.
@HIST0RYNERD This is literally the most historically significant event since the War of the Legends. I can’t believe we’re alive for this.
@POKE_TRUTH So, we’re supposed to believe the “Syndicate” is real because Jenny said so? Wake up. This is propaganda to expand International Police authority.
@MYSTICSEER Yellow eyes EVERY time. Lugia, Kyogre, and Groudon. This can’t be mind control. This looks more like possession.
Post: @ACEWATCHER So, um ... I couldn’t help but notice that Ace Tomlinson’s name was not mentioned in Jenny’s press conference. Is he not assisting with the pursuit of the Syndicate?? Seems really selfish and cowardly of him.
Replies instantly flooded on this post:
-”Shut the fuck up.” -”He literally saved Maria Bella.” -”He’s the only one actually doing anything.” -”Maybe he IS a part of it.” -”Delete your account.”
A thread titled “THE KINGMAKER THEORY” hit a million shares in under an hour.
THREAD: @ArcCipher
What if the Divine Challenge was never about tradition? What if it’s a controlled breeding ground to create the strongest human alive? A human capable of standing against the Syndicate ... or controlling Legendaries himself?
Attached clip: <Ho-Oh descending down through burning skies over Maria Bella during the Lugia attack with a trainer (presumably Ace Tomlinson) standing on a rooftop underneath it> Caption:
“How does a human call Ho-Oh?” The comments turned into madness: “It chose him.” “No. It was summoned.” “He’s the weapon.” “He’s the bait.” “He’s the next Syndicate leader.” “He’s the only hope.” “I’d die for Ace.” “I hope he gets executed.”
One comment sat pinned at the top: “This war isn’t coming. It’s already here.”
Amid the noise, one segment cut through, which was apparently filmed the day after the attack on Pacifidlog Town.
A local reporter stood on a broken floating platform at what remained of Pacifidlog Town. The camera kept catching its own lens fogging.
Behind the reporter, rescue crews moved like ghosts through wreckage.
She crouched beside a woman wrapped in a silver emergency blanket, her hair soaked, face raw. A child sat beside her with blank eyes, clutching a broken life ring.
The reporter spoke gently.
“Ma’am ... can you tell us what happened?”
The woman stared ahead for a long moment, like her brain hadn’t caught up to the fact she survived.
Then she answered, voice thin.
“It ... got dark.”
A shaky inhale.
“And then ... the ocean just ... stood up.”
Her eyes flicked to the ruins around her.
“My husband was on the west dock.”
She blinked like she was trying to delete the memory.
“And then he wasn’t.”
The reporter swallowed hard, her voice breaking slightly.
“Was there any warning?”
The woman shook her head, staring blankly.
“No warning.”
Her hand tightened around the foil blanket.
“No time.”
She looked at the camera then, suddenly aware the entire world was watching, and her voice changed. It became angrier.
“They did it on purpose.”
A beat.
“They wanted us to see.”
She gestured weakly at the town around her.
“So, everybody else could imagine this happening to them too.”
The reporter didn’t speak for a moment because there wasn’t anything else to say. The camera lingered as the woman looked away again, pulling the child closer. Then the network cut back to the studio.
The world didn’t feel shiny anymore. It felt fragile like glass under pressure, and everyone was waiting for the next headline to become their city or town, and even the people who denied it ... couldn’t stop watching.
Miles beneath the surface, inside the Syndicate’s underwater fortress, the world felt far away like a problem happening to other people.
The board room was lit in deep blue and sterile white, with holographic maps hovering above a circular table like ghosts. Region grids. Weather patterns. Interpol response zones. Live satellite feeds.
Pacifidlog’s wreckage still floated on one screen like a bruise. Fallarbor burned on another.
At the center of it all stood Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius still as stone, cane planted, and his cloak hanging from his shoulders like a funeral shroud.
A ring of monitors floated above the table, each screen holding a different face.
Giovanni with his expression unreadable and eyes like polished steel.
On the next screen was Archie with his blue bandana and an ocean fury behind his grin like he’d just walked off a battlefield and enjoyed it.
Maxie looked composed and religiously calm with his glasses reflecting flame from a live feed.
Then there was Lysandre Beaulieu looking immaculate, elegant, and seemingly disgusted by the world as usual.
Finally, there was Cyrus standing alone in a separate room, posture rigid, and eyes completely empty of warmth.
At the head, in the room physically present was Ghetsis.
He didn’t greet them because he didn’t need to. Every man here knew what the hell this was.
Ghetsis tapped his cane once. The sound echoed through the chamber like a judge’s gavel.
“Let’s not pretend,” he said calmly, “that these last couple of weeks were accidental.”
Nobody spoke.
Ghetsis paced slowly around the table, his voice even and controlled, the kind of voice that didn’t need emotion because it owned the room already.
“Archie.”
Archie’s grin widened.
“You seized Kyogre.”
Archie leaned back like a king lounging on a throne.
“Sure did.”
Ghetsis nodded slightly, almost approving.
“You forced a Primal Reversion in open waters.”
Archie shrugged as if he’d ordered a drink.
“Had to make a statement.”
Ghetsis’ eyes sharpened.
“And you nearly fried the control matrix doing it.”
The smile didn’t leave Archie’s face, but the air changed.
“Yeah,” Archie said. “It got a little spicy.”
Ghetsis stepped closer to his monitor, voice lowering.
“You are not a child.”
Archie’s grin thinned. Ghetsis continued.
“You’re a warlord with an ego problem.”
Giovanni’s mouth twitched slightly, half from amusement and half from insult on Archie’s behalf. Ghetsis straightened and turned his gaze.
“Maxie.”
Maxie didn’t react, at least not outwardly. Ghetsis’ tone turned colder.
“You awakened Groudon.”
Maxie responded without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“And,” Ghetsis added, “your first attempt at controlling it resulted in massive internal casualties.”
Silence. The screens seemed to glow brighter. Maxie’s jaw tightened once. Then he spoke.
“Tabitha’s death will be honored.”
Ghetsis’ expression didn’t change.
“Tabitha’s death was avoidable.”
Maxie’s voice sharpened.
“The cavern environment destabilized the frequency.”
Ghetsis nodded like he was hearing a report from an employee.
“And once you moved to surface conditions, you succeeded.”
Maxie’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
Ghetsis pivoted slightly like he was checking boxes on a clipboard.
“And now Groudon is ours.”
That word “ours” hung in the chamber like a chain around everyone’s throat.
Archie scoffed. “Ours?”
Maxie didn’t like it either. His eyes flicked.
Giovanni remained silent, but his stare was a blade. Ghetsis did not care because this wasn’t a democracy. This was an empire.
“You will maintain jurisdiction over the beast, Maxie. Archie will have the same with Kyogre.
His face became more serious.
“But make no mistake, Groudon and Kyogre are merely pieces that are part of OUR grand design.”
Ghetsis tapped his cane again.
“Cyrus.”
Cyrus’ screen showed him standing in front of a containment display, ambient light making him look like he belonged in a mausoleum.
“You took the beasts of Time and Space from those meddlesome trainers ... as we planned.”
“Yes.”
“And you even shot Phillip Cole.”
Cyrus answered without shame.
“He resisted.”
Ghetsis’ mouth curved faintly, not into a smile but into something darker.
“Good.”
That caught everyone’s attention. Even Lysandre leaned forward slightly, eyebrows raised.
Ghetsis continued.
“You interrogated them for Giratina.”
Cyrus’ eyes didn’t flinch.
“Yes.”
“And when I called you...”
Ghetsis paused, deliberately letting it sharpen.
“ ... you ignored me.”
The chamber went quiet enough to hear the hum of the shields. Archie grinned like he was watching a fight. Maxie’s eyes narrowed. Giovanni stared hard. Lysandre looked offended on principle.
Cyrus said flatly:
“As I told you before, I was occupied.”
A beat. Then Ghetsis laughed a soft, pleased chuckle that made the room feel colder.
“Occupied,” Ghetsis repeated, like he was savoring the word.
He turned to the others.
“You see?”
Then back to Cyrus.
“You’re evolving.”
Cyrus said nothing. Ghetsis stepped away from the table, voice expanding outward again.
“You three acted with conviction,” he said. “Without hesitation.”
He pointed his cane toward the overhead holograms.
“And now look at what we have achieved.”
The displays shifted. Four emblems appeared in sequence like a war banner.
DIALGA. PALKIA. GROUDON. KYOGRE.
Four titans. Ghetsis let the image sink into all of them, then spoke the truth:
“You were defiant.”
Cyrus remained silent.
Archie snorted. “I wasn’t defiant. I was winning.”
Maxie’s lip curled. “I did what needed to be done. Especially since this lunatic was about to flood the world.”
“The seas had you trembling, aye?” Archie retorted, with a teasing smile, “Of course you’d go runnin’ to your land guppy.”
Ghetsis’ eyes flashed.
“You ALL were defiant,” he repeated, firmer now. “Because you could not stand the idea of my pacing.”
That was the real tension. It was no secret that every man here thought he should be the one holding the steering wheel.
Ghetsis continued, voice cutting like a scalpel.
“You wanted to prove you still matter.”
He stepped closer to the center.
“So, you lit the world on fire..., and now the world has its eye on us.”
Nobody denied it because it was true.
Ghetsis spread his arms slightly, calm as a preacher.
“And yet ... despite your impulsiveness...”
His eyes moved from face to face, owning them.
“ ... you have advanced the plan.”
That line hit different. Maxie didn’t relax, but it pleased him. Archie leaned in slightly, curious now. Giovanni’s eyes sharpened. Even Lysandre’s expression softened into interest.
Ghetsis pressed the advantage.
“The world now knows we exist.”
He tapped the holo feed of Jenny’s press conference.
“And they have declared war on us.”
He turned slightly.
“Good.”
A dark smile finally appeared, small but real.
“Because war forces evolution.”
He pivoted toward Giovanni’s screen.
“Giovanni.”
Giovanni’s voice was smooth.
“Yes.”
“You will leverage the panic,” Ghetsis said. “Destabilize governments. Buy officials. Turn border security into paranoia.”
Giovanni gave a faint nod.
“Already in motion.”
Ghetsis turned to Lysandre.
“Lysandre. You will seed ideological fractures. Your preferred poison.”
Lysandre smirked.
“I’ll make them beg for extinction.”
Ghetsis turned to Archie.
“Archie. You will not unleash Kyogre again unless ordered.”
Archie opened his mouth, but Ghetsis cut him off instantly.
“Unless. Ordered.” He repeated.
Archie stared, grin fading.
Then, slowly, he finally replied, “ ... Fine.”
Ghetsis turned to Maxie.
“Maxie. You will stabilize Groudon’s obedience. Secure it. Move it only with maximum environmental control.”
Maxie nodded.
“It will obey.”
Then Ghetsis turned back to Cyrus, and the room tightened again.
“Cyrus,” he said softly.
Cyrus’ eyes were hollow, but he was giving Ghetsis his full attention.
Ghetsis leaned forward slightly.
“You will study and determine the full extent of Dialga’s and Palkia’s capabilities. Also, you will locate Giratina.”
Cyrus didn’t blink.
“It is contained.”
Ghetsis smiled.
“Contained,” he repeated. “Yes.”
Then his smile vanished.
“But the shadow must be chained.”
A beat.
“And once it is...”
Ghetsis lifted his cane slightly and pointed toward the deepest hologram on the screen showing ancient scripts, symbols, and the outline of a flute-shaped artifact.
AZURE FLUTE — UNKNOWN LOCATION (CALYPSO DIVINE VAULT PROBABILITY HIGH)
“ ... then we finish.”
Giovanni watched, measuring. Maxie watched, reverent. Archie watched, hungry. Lysandre watched, delighted. Cyrus watched, empty.
Ghetsis let his voice drop into something almost holy.
“Reality itself has resisted us for centuries,” he said.
“But now?”
He gestured again to the four titans.
“Now ... reality is afraid.”
He tapped his cane once more.
“And one more thing.”
The monitors flickered, and a new feed appeared showing a news broadcast featuring the face of a familiar adversary and a headline underneath:
ACE TOMLINSON — MEDICALLY CLEARED TO RESUME THE DIVINE CHALLENGE.
Ghetsis stared at the image like it offended him.
“Ace Tomlinson.”
Archie laughed. “Ohhhh, I like that guy. Shame he didn’t show up with the other two.”
Maxie didn’t laugh. Cyrus’ eyes narrowed slightly. Giovanni remained still, interest sharpened.
Ghetsis spoke quietly.
“He is the variable.”
He turned away from the image as if it was beneath him.
“A human who keeps walking away alive.”
He looked at them again, eyes cold.
“That ends.”
Silence.
Then Giovanni finally spoke.
“Do you want him killed?”
Ghetsis paused, then smiled thinly.
“No.”
That answer rattled even Archie. Ghetsis continued.
“I want him broken.”
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
“I want him to crawl.”
He tapped the table.
“And I want the world to watch the symbol collapse.”
A beat. Then he straightened.
“Meeting adjourned.”
The screens began blinking out one by one.
Archie’s screen vanished first like he disconnected with a grin and went back to playing Arceus. Maxie disappeared next, already calculating. Lysandre’s screen winked out like a satisfied predator. Giovanni’s vanished last, measured and quiet.
Only Cyrus remained for an extra second. He stared. Ghetsis stared back.
There was no warmth or feeling of alliance. Only necessity. Then even Cyrus’ feed went dark. Ghetsis stood alone in the chamber again. He faced the hologram of the world map.
Pacifidlog and Fallarbor Town were still blinking red indicating where the legendary Pokémon under their control had struck. Calypso Island was pulsing like a heart.
Ghetsis whispered, more to himself than anyone else: “Good.”
And somewhere above the ocean, the world kept shaking.
Far away in the Johto region, Ecruteak City at night was a place that refused to modernize.
Lantern light bled warm gold across old stone paths. Incense curled from the shrine steps in lazy ribbons. The Bell Tower rose above the rooftops like a dark promise, its wooden beams groaning softly whenever the wind shifted like it remembered every prayer ever spoken beneath it.
Even with the world panicking, and the Syndicate’s war spreading across broadcasts and borders, Ecruteak still moved like a ritual.
The Dance Theater sat near the center of the city, all lacquered wood and paper lanterns, guarded by tradition more than locks. The doors slid open and closed with quiet precision as guests filtered out with locals, tourists, and a few trainers who kept glancing toward the tower as if expecting it to ignite.
Amber Pennebaker did not blend in. She walked up confidently in her maroon jumpsuit, matching colored thigh high stylish boots and gloves. Her auburn red hair cascaded down, her red lips popped almost like a traffic light, and her fierce green eyes fixated on the entrance to the Theater.
She stepped through the courtyard like she owned the stone and with fire in her eyes held behind discipline. She was the kind of woman who didn’t need a crowd to make a place feel smaller.
Two attendants started to intercept her. Amber’s gaze flicked over them once.
“I’m here for Naoko,” she said.
One of them stiffened. “The Kimono Girls are—”
“I didn’t ask who was available,” Amber replied, voice calm and final. “I said who I’m seeing. You should know who I am.”
The attendant hesitated ... then stepped aside.
Because everyone who worked at the Theater knew one thing: when someone spoke one of Kimono Girl’s real names with that kind of certainty, you didn’t treat them like a tourist.
Backstage smelled like cedar wood, perfume and faint sweat from the performance.
Naoko sat at a vanity mirror, long dark hair half-unpinned, Espeon curled beside her on a cushion like a silent guardian. Its ears twitched once, and its head raised as Amber entered.
Naoko didn’t turn right away. She finished removing a hairpin, set it down gently, then finally rose.
“Amber Pennebaker,” she said, politely and measured.
Amber stopped three steps inside the room. “Naoko.”
For a moment, the air held old memories. Sora Pennebaker’s laughter. A younger Amber sitting cross-legged on a theater floor while the young Kimono Girls practiced. A woman’s voice, Sora’s, telling a little girl that Ho-Oh was not just a Pokémon, but a judgment.
Naoko’s eyes softened briefly. “It has been a long time.”
Amber nodded once. “It has.”
Then she cut through the nostalgia like it annoyed her.
“I want the truth,” Amber said. “About Ace Tomlinson.”
Naoko’s expression didn’t change, but Espeon’s tail twitched.
“Ace Tomlinson?” Naoko repeated as if she was tasting a name she’d never heard before. “You mean that trainer participating in your island’s Divine Challenge? I hear he’s been impressive...”
Amber stared at her. Naoko held it, but too calmly.
Amber’s voice stayed level, but her patience dropped out of it. “Don’t insult me.”
Naoko’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not—”
“You are,” Amber said, stepping closer. “And you’re doing it badly.”
Naoko didn’t move.
Amber continued, the words coming crisp and controlled. “My mother, Sora Pennebaker, sat in this theater when I was young. She knew your family. She knew your rituals. She knew the Bell Tower’s truth because your family told her. She was there for all of you. She helped make this theater into what it is.”
Naoko’s lips pressed together. Amber leaned in just enough to make the next sentence land like a knife.
“You owe her, and you owe me.”
Silence. Espeon rose to its feet, stepping between them; not in an aggressive way, but present. Naoko’s gaze flicked to Espeon, then back to Amber.
“ ... You came here because you think Ho-Oh is yours,” Naoko said quietly.
Amber’s jaw tightened. “I came here because I’m done watching my world burn while people worship symbols they don’t deserve.”
That earned a real flicker in Naoko’s composure. The two women stared at each other like opponents across a battlefield. Then Naoko exhaled, slow.
“Close the door,” she said.
Amber didn’t move at first.
Naoko repeated it, colder. “Close it.”
Amber slid the door shut behind her. The theater suddenly felt sealed off from the rest of the world. Naoko walked to the center of the room, hands folded neatly in front of her.
“If I tell you,” She said, “you will not like the answer.”
Amber’s eyes didn’t blink. “Try me.”
Naoko looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded once.
“Eight years ago,” she began, “Ace Tomlinson came to Johto for the first time. He was young, very sharp, but humble, though he still believed the world could be solved with brute force and confidence.”
Amber scoffed under her breath. “Humble?”
Naoko looked at her. “Yes. Humble.”
She turned away. “Ace Tomlinson was coming off a loss in the Pokémon League at Indigo Plateau. He did not even reach the Champion. He lost to Lance, the fourth Elite Four member at the time, in brutal fashion. Ace then promptly disappeared for over a year.”
Amber was a little taken aback from this revelation. It seemed so far from the Ace Tomlinson she’d come to know.
“He disappeared?” She asked calmly.
“Yes,” Naoko answered softly, “No one, not even his friends, family, or professors heard from him..., until he finally returned home a little over eleven months later, ready to continue his journey.”
Amber said nothing. Naoko didn’t react.
“Not long after that, Ace arrived in Johto. He met Zuki first,” Naoko continued. “In Violet City. He had just retrieved a mysterious egg from Professor Elm’s aide. A simple errand, meant for someone kind enough to protect something fragile.”
Naoko’s eyes lifted toward Amber.
“Zuki chose him ... in a way.”
Amber’s gaze sharpened. “Zuki gave him the egg?”
Naoko nodded. “She instructed Mr. Pokémon to pass it to a trainer who didn’t treat it like a prize. When Professor Elm sent Ace to retrieve it, Mr. Pokémon knew then that he was a suitable choice.”
Amber’s mouth tightened. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.
Naoko went on. “Not long after, Ace found me in Ilex Forest.”
Amber’s eyes narrowed. “You were lost.”
“Yes,” Naoko admitted, unbothered by the vulnerability. “It happens. The forest has ... moods.”
Espeon made a soft, approving sound like it remembered.
“He could’ve walked past me,” Naoko said. “He didn’t. He stayed and helped me find my way.”
Amber’s expression didn’t soften.
Naoko continued, threading the story like a tapestry.
“Some time later, Miki met him in this theater,” she said, gesturing faintly around them. “A Team Rocket grunt was harassing her, trying to intimidate our family because they thought we were ‘old relics’ they could push around.”
Amber’s eyes flashed.
“Ace showed up and handled it,” Naoko said simply. “Not because it made him look good, but because it was wrong.”
“Kuni,” Naoko continued, “saw him during the Goldenrod incident. When Team Rocket seized the Radio Tower and turned a city into a hostage situation.”
Amber’s lips parted slightly. She knew the history. Everyone did.
“And Sayo,” Naoko said, “met him in the Ice Path. Trapped and freezing. He found her and freed her without hesitation.”
Naoko’s voice stayed steady, but the memory lived in it.
“All five of us saw him,” she said. “Across Johto. In different moments. Under pressure. When no cameras were watching.”
Amber’s stare burned. “That doesn’t make him worthy of Ho-Oh.”
Naoko’s eyes hardened. “It made him visible.”
Amber didn’t respond. Naoko continued.
“He earned eight Johto League badges. He challenged the League. He defeated the Elite Four ... and then the champion, Lance, redeeming his prior loss to him.”
Amber folded her arms slowly. “So, he won.”
“Yes,” Naoko replied. “But that wasn’t the test.”
She took a step closer.
“After he became Champion, Professor Elm received an instruction from our family.”
Amber’s eyes narrowed. “To send Ace to Ecruteak.”
Naoko nodded.
“To this theater,” she said. “To face the five of us ... consecutively.”
Amber’s mouth tightened. “A gauntlet.”
“A judgment,” Naoko corrected.
She didn’t smile. “He nearly failed. Several times.”
Amber’s eyes flashed with interest despite herself.
“Each battle was one-on-one. Zuki pushed him to the edge,” Naoko said. “Miki punished his aggression. Kuni dismantled his rhythm. Sayo forced him to endure, not dominate.”
“And you?” Amber asked.
Naoko’s voice dropped slightly. “I tested his resolve.”
Silence stretched.
Amber’s voice sharpened. “And he won.”
Naoko nodded. “Barely.”
Amber’s gaze turned predatory. “Then what?”
Naoko’s eyes lifted, as if she was seeing the roof of the Bell Tower again.
“Then we told him the truth,” she said.
She held up one finger.
“Zuki told him: Ho-Oh does not come because it is summoned.”
She lifted a second.
“It comes when it chooses.”
A third.
“And it only chooses when a trainer proves strength and purity under pressure ... without performance, without audience, and without reward.”
Amber’s jaw flexed.
“And we gave him the Clear Bell,” Naoko said.
Amber’s eyes narrowed. “The relic.”
Naoko nodded. “The invitation.”
Amber leaned forward slightly. “And the tower.”