Not the usual slow, measured toll.
Three sharp, clipped chimes.
A summons.
The cadets assembled in the central training field —
an immense stadium carved into the mountain itself, surrounded by stone bleachers and electric monitors.
Steel targets, sparring rings, and battle arenas had been drawn onto the earth itself.
Above them, in the observation stands, League banners fluttered.
Today wasn't about lectures.
Today was about proving yourself.
Instructor Vale stepped onto the platform, her armor catching the morning light.
"You have survived the wilds," she said without ceremony. "You have passed the first evaluation."
"Now you will fight."
Her voice carried across the stadium, sharp and cold.
"You will be matched in mock battles — single elimination. No lethal moves. No excessive force."
"Winning matters. So does control."
"Your Pokémon are your partners.
Your mind is your weapon."
The message was clear:
Anyone who treated this like a game would be crushed.
Instructor Kael joined her, unfolding a datapad.
"Before your matches begin, your new class placements will be posted."
A murmur rippled through the assembled cadets.
Some nervous.
Some excited.
Some — like Ren — simply patient.
The monitors flickered, names cascading downward in ordered rows.
Top of the list, gleaming gold:
Class 1 — Elite Division
- Lance Wateru
- Steven Stone
- Cynthia Carolina
- Ren Oak
- Selene Myles
- Kaen Fujioka
- Lira Byrne
- and more.
Roughly fifty names in total.
Stolen story; please report.
The rest were sorted into Class 2, Class 3, Class 4, Class 5 —
and finally, Class 6.
The last 10%.
The "red list."
Ren scanned the names quickly, taking mental snapshots.
He wasn't surprised to see Lance, Steven, and Cynthia there.
They had survived the wilderness trial with brutal efficiency.
Ren remembered watching Cynthia during the checkpoint —
the way she had moved through danger like a blade through silk.
Steven had been quieter —
methodical, polished.
And Lance?
Every move he made screamed raw force barely contained under tight discipline.
Good, Ren thought. Real competition.
Instructor Vale continued:
"Class divisions are final for this semester. However—" she added sharply, "your position is not secure."
"Those who underperform may be demoted.
Those who excel may rise."
"Classes will dictate your schedules, your instructors, and your opportunities."
A few cadets swallowed hard.
Ren did not.
He had no intention of falling.
Not now.
Not ever.
"Additionally," Kael added dryly, "the Academy’s calendar consists of four academic quarters."
"At the end of each quarter, you will receive one week of leave — assuming you remain in good standing."
"Breaks are a privilege, not a right. Failures will remain on-site for remedial training."
"The first break will occur after the Battle Aptitude Trials conclude."
"Which brings us to today’s exercise."
He tapped the datapad once.
The monitors shifted, showing the first tournament brackets.
Each cadet had been randomly paired against another from their class.
Single elimination.
One round.
No second chances.
Survive, advance.
Lose, sit down and watch.
Ren's name flashed onto the board.
His first opponent: Lira Byrne.
A girl from Saffron — sharp-featured, lean, eyes like a hungry Purrloin.
Ren felt the faint flicker of tension coil in his stomach.
Good.
He needed that edge.
"First rounds begin in ten minutes," Vale barked. "Prepare."
"Pokémon outside. Gear checked. Mentality clear."
"Move."
The field exploded into movement.
Pokéballs flashed open —
figures taking shape across the arena: Growlithes, Machops, Magnemites, Houndours, Mankeys.
No legends here.
No starter Pokémon gifts for the masses.
Only raw, hard-earned partnerships.
Ren moved calmly toward his assigned arena.
As he did, he caught brief glimpses of his future rivals:
Steven standing coolly with a Beldum hovering silently beside him, its single red eye gleaming.
Lance adjusting the harness on a wiry, dangerous-looking Dratini wrapped loosely around his shoulders.
Cynthia releasing a surprisingly small, rough-skinned Gible, its yellow eyes cold and hungry.
Each of them glanced at the others —
not speaking.
Not yet.
But measuring.
Weighing.
Recognizing.
Not just classmates, Ren thought.
Not just rivals.
Threats.
And in the back of every one of their minds, the same thought coiled like smoke:
Only the strongest would rise.
The rest?
Forgotten.
Ren reached his arena.
Charmander materialized beside him in a pulse of white light —
small, strong, eyes bright with a fire that matched his own.
Across the ring, Lira released her partner:
a lean, fast Meowth with sharpened claws and a wild gleam in its eye.
Fast.
Sneaky.
But not unbeatable.
The referee — an older League enforcer in a heavy jacket — raised a flag.
"Begin when ready."
Ren's eyes narrowed, body relaxing into battle posture.
Charmander crouched low, tail tip brightening.
Across from him, Lira grinned sharply, eyes gleaming.
No mercy would be given.
None expected.
"Charmander," Ren said softly.
"We end this fast."
The referee dropped the flag.
The battle began.