The Neon District didn’t just glow—it screamed.
Lights exploded across Isabelle’s vision in bursts of electric blue, shocking pink, and pulsating green. Towering holo-screens advertised everything from PokéBoost Energy Drinks (“Fuel your battles, Trainer!”) to the newest installment of the PokéKart Dash VR series (“Race with Flygons now—featuring All-New Meteor Mode!”). Billboards looped animations of glamorous Trainers tossing designer PokéBalls, their sparkly teams of Sylveon and Gardevoir practically posing for the camera.
Isabelle stood frozen for a moment at the street corner, feeling like a particularly confused Slowpoke in the middle of a stampede. The ground beneath her buzzed faintly, likely from all the Electrike-powered tech grids running through the streets. People weaved past her with practiced ease: Trainers showing off their VireBands, street performers juggling glowing PokéBalls, and vendors barking out deals on snacks and rare Pokémon gear.
Amélie, who clearly belonged here, turned back when she realized Isabelle had stopped. Her face lit up with a teasing grin. “Well? Pretty different from Verdantia Town, huh?”
Isabelle managed a small snort, dragging herself forward. “Different? Try ‘a whole different planet.’ Do city kids just… live in perpetual rave mode?”
Amélie laughed, looping her arm around Isabelle’s and tugging her forward. “C’mon, country girl. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
To Isabelle, it felt like stepping into another world. Neon fever dream meets a Kantonian fashion parade, and I’m the country bumpkin gawking at everything. She stayed close to Amélie, her eyes wide as they took it all in.
Neon light splashed across every surface, reflecting off the polished sidewalks and the sleek windows of sprawling stores that stretched skyward like glass monoliths. Digital billboards towered overhead, displaying trainers in dazzling outfits mid-battle, their Pokémon rendered in explosive, high-definition detail.
A holo-display floated above the center of the street, showcasing a life-sized Haxorus roaring dramatically, surrounded by promotional graphics for a new HoloBattle Tournament coming to the Glow Dome next month. Kids with glowing VireBands clustered beneath it, pointing and chattering excitedly about entering.
“This place is insane,” Isabelle muttered under her breath. “It’s like… someone took every flashy idea and said, ‘Yeah, let’s jam all that into one district.’”
Amélie smirked, tugging her along. “Welcome to Lumora City’s Neon District! The brighter, the better—unless you’re broke.”
Isabelle chuckled softly, though part of her brain was still reeling. “Do you ever stop and think, ‘Maybe there’s too much personality here?’ Like, it’s trying too hard?”
Amélie’s grin widened. “It’s supposed to try hard. That’s the point. It’s unapologetic, just like me.”
Of course, Amélie fit here perfectly. She walked with a bounce in her step, her hazel eyes shining brighter than the lights above them. She paused in front of a glass display featuring “Designer PokéGear - Fresh from Technogrove City!” and made a face. “And this is where it gets ridiculous.”
Inside, rows of expensive VireBand cases glimmered like gemstones—each one covered in metallic accents, decals of Legendary Pokémon, or animated holo-patterns that rippled as you moved. Isabelle squinted at a price tag.
“Who’s paying 3,000 PokéDollars for a case?” Isabelle blurted, her voice pitching louder than intended.
“People with more money than brains,” Amélie replied, deadpan.
Meanwhile, an entire wall of a nearby boutique projected slow-motion footage of a Lopunny strutting down a runway in an absurdly fashionable scarf-and-sunglasses combo. Isabelle blinked. Okay, so we’re doing PokéChic for Pokémon now? Fantastic. The bottom of the ad read: “Now available for 2,500 PokéCoins or PokePay-approved!” A cheerful jingle chimed as the screen switched to the latest luxury PokéBall design – something gold-lined and way out of anyone’s budget unless they happened to stumble upon a Nugget farm.
Amélie noticed her stare and grinned. “If you think that’s pricey, wait until you see the PokéYen-exclusive gear stalls. Some people are just obsessed with the high-end labels. Like, why? You’re going to throw that PokéBall at a Graveler and pray it doesn’t explode.”
Isabelle couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, I’ll stick to the budget brand. If I can’t tap to pay, I’ll just whip out a handful of Stardust and hope for the best.”
“Don’t knock Stardust,” Amélie teased. “There are market vendors here who’d trade their left arm for a bag of that stuff. Or at least a really fancy PokéDoll.”
The girls wove through the crowd, passing street stalls where Trainers haggled over vintage PokéGear or bartered with Shards and Pearls like they were merchants on a pirate ship. Overhead, neon signs flickered with shop names: “Shiny Shimmer Trinkets,” “Evolution Emporium,” and “Gadget Grotto.” Isabelle couldn’t decide if it was all dazzling or headache-inducing.
Verdantia had two shops. Two. You walked in, bought a MooMoo Milk, and left. This? This was capitalism on Hyper Beam.
----------------------------------------
The Glow Dome loomed like a glittering monument as Isabelle and Amélie approached, its curved, neon-lit facade shimmering under the deepening orange hues of the sunset. The sheer size of it left Isabelle gaping; it practically dominated the entire horizon, the glowing lights reflecting off the pavement like molten gemstones.
Crowds bustled around them, a surge of Trainers, families, and fans chattering in excited bursts of energy. People of all ages moved with purpose—some holding trays of snacks, others toting Trainer bags or Pokémon plushies, and a few decked out in customized gear representing their favorite Trainers. Their excitement was infectious, even if it also made Isabelle’s head spin.
If chaos had a physical form, it would be this place. Isabelle stayed close to Amélie as the crowd swept them forward, her grip on her bag strap tightening.
“Welcome to the Glow Dome,” Amélie announced with a dramatic sweep of her hand. “The crown jewel of Lumora City. This is it. If something important’s happening, it’s happening here. Battles, tournaments, showcases—you name it. Some say the Neon District is the soul of Lumora, but this?” She gestured upward, the Glow Dome’s towering lights casting her grin in sharp relief. “This is its beating heart.”
Isabelle’s mouth twitched as she forced a nod. “Beating heart… sure. Feels more like an aneurysm with all these people.” Her words were tight, her tone hovering between sarcasm and discomfort. Her brain was already cataloging escape routes. Crowds? Check. Noise? Check. Possible panic attack lurking like a wild Zubat? Triple check.
“Me? Freaking out? Nooo. I’m fine.” Isabelle’s voice cracked slightly as she lied through gritted teeth, already regretting agreeing to this. “This is… great. Love it. So many people. So much noise. Definitely not hyperventilating.”
Amélie’s laughter bubbled up like a sparkling soda. “You’re terrible at lying, you know.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with an easy grin. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. Think of it as a giant festival—but with cooler lights and zero clown-themed nightmares.”
Before Isabelle could respond with an equally self-deprecating remark, Amélie’s eyes flicked to someone in the crowd. Her entire demeanor brightened as she elbowed Isabelle lightly. “Hey, look who it is! Milo!”
“Milo?” Isabelle repeated, confused.
“From our class, remember? He’s that kid who’s always buried in notes.” Amélie stood on her tiptoes and waved.
Isabelle turned to see a boy slightly off to the side, practically camouflaged among the throng of people. He was perched near a bench, hunched over his VireBand, the sleek device projecting a faint, holographic display into the air. His fingers moved with practiced precision, tapping and swiping through screens filled with battle stats and live match replays. Every so often, he glanced up at the leaderboard projected on one of the Glow Dome’s exterior screens, his light blue eyes narrowing behind his round glasses in focused observation.
The faint glow of the AR features reflected off his lenses, making him look like a tech wizard lost in his own world. His sandy blond hair stuck up in unruly tufts, as if he’d just rolled out of bed and forgotten to comb it, but Isabelle doubted he even noticed. Whatever Milo was analyzing clearly had his full attention.
Who even needs a notebook when you’ve got a VireBand that looks like it belongs in a sci-fi movie? Isabelle thought, feeling like she’d walked in on someone solving a math equation that could end the world.
Amélie waved her hand dramatically as if summoning a Pokémon from its PokéBall. “Milo! Hey, nerd! What are you doing here?”
The boy looked up sharply, his light blue eyes flicking from his VireBand’s holographic interface to Amélie, then to Isabelle. For a moment, he seemed caught between annoyance at being interrupted and sheepishness at being noticed at all. He pushed up his glasses reflexively, the faint glow of his AR screen still dancing across the lenses.
“Spectating,” Milo replied simply, his tone as dry as a sandstorm. “And taking notes.”
Amélie dragged Isabelle closer without asking, her grin bright as ever. “Isabelle, meet Milo Tanner. Milo, this is Isabelle Moreau—you know, the new girl from class.”
Isabelle blinked, unsure how to respond. “Uh, hi,” she said, lifting her hand in an awkward little wave. She hoped her voice didn’t betray how completely out of place she felt standing in the shadow of the Glow Dome surrounded by strangers.
Milo studied her for a beat—not rudely, Isabelle noted, but like he was quietly processing her existence. “Hi,” he said back, voice flat but not unfriendly. Then he turned his attention to Amélie, clearly still engrossed in whatever he’d been doing before they showed up. “You’re interrupting my analysis.”
Amélie rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. “Oh, excuse me for pulling you away from your important nerd work. What’s so fascinating that you can’t even say hello properly?”
Milo sighed as if dealing with Amélie required the patience of a saint, though his faint smirk betrayed a tiny spark of humor. He swiped his hand through the AR display on his VireBand, and a live battle replay flickered to life—a Salamence swooping down with a devastating Dragon Claw on an opposing Talonflame. The attack landed with precision, the Talonflame spiraling out of the air.
“I’m studying the matches,” Milo said, his voice soft but purposeful. “That’s Colby Ferris’s team—his Salamence and Heliolisk are dominating this week’s Glow Dome tournament. He’s been on a streak for three weeks now. I’m analyzing his move patterns and team composition.”
Amélie leaned in slightly, her hazel eyes darting toward the AR display. “Is this your idea of fun? Watching Colby say ‘kerplunk’ fifty times in a row?”
“His battling strategy is far more interesting than his vocabulary,” Milo replied, adjusting his glasses again. He flicked through another screen—lines of data, stats, and diagrams floated in midair, far too dense for Isabelle to process at a glance. “He relies on overwhelming speed and unpredictable move rotations. Most Trainers lose because they try to counter him directly and fall into his traps.”
Isabelle blinked, trying to wrap her head around what she was looking at. “Wait, so you’re, like… taking notes? On Pokémon battles? For fun?”
Milo turned his gaze back to her, a little surprised but still composed. “Yes. Understanding strategy is the foundation of battling. I want to become a researcher one day—focused on advanced battle analytics and Pokémon behavior.”
Amélie poked him teasingly in the arm. “He’s basically a walking battle encyclopedia. Don’t let the quiet vibes fool you—Milo knows everything there is to know about matchups, stats, and move synergy. Seriously, he could probably coach half the Trainers here.”
“I’m just observing,” Milo corrected her, though there was a faint flush of color on his cheeks. “There’s always something to learn if you know where to look.”
Isabelle couldn’t help but feel impressed, even if Milo’s intensity was a little intimidating. “That’s… cool, I guess,” she said slowly, gesturing toward the AR display. “So, what happens if someone actually figures out how to beat Colby? Does his streak end?”
Amélie rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair. “Oh, excuse me for pulling you away from your important nerd work. What’s so fascinating that you can’t even say hello properly?”
Milo sighed as if dealing with Amélie required the patience of a saint, though his faint smirk betrayed a tiny spark of humor.
“I’m studying the matches,” Milo said, his voice soft but purposeful. “That’s Colby Ferris’s team—his Salamence and Heliolisk are dominating this week’s Glow Dome tournament. He’s been on a streak for three weeks now. I’m analyzing his move patterns and team composition.”
As Milo swiped through the AR display on his VireBand, the screen lit up with a slowed replay of Colby Ferris’s latest battle. A massive Salamence dominated the field, its wings spread wide as it soared above a clearly overmatched Talonflame. Colby’s voice blared from the speakers—loud, chaotic, and somehow even more baffling than the visuals.
“Yo my mans, we ‘boutta go KERPLUNK on this scrub! Salamence, hit ‘em with that slow-motion dive-bomb—y’all see this precision? Stay frisky now! KERPLUNK!”
Isabelle stared at the display, her face scrunching as the Salamence swooped down with perfect form, its claws glowing with Dragon Claw. The Talonflame flapped frantically in retreat before getting absolutely smashed out of the sky. A shocked silence hung in the air from the crowd in the video, followed by Colby shouting triumphantly into his mic.
“KERPLOOOOOONK! Y’ALL SAW THAT COMIN’? YOU DIDN’T. NO ONE DID. LET’S GO, SALAMENCE! WE MAKIN’ WAVES, MY DUDES!”
Milo, unfazed by the chaos, flicked to a new angle—this time showing Colby mid-victory pose, his backward cap slightly crooked as he flexed a double thumbs-up to his team of Pokémon, who were less flamboyant but equally victorious. His Heliolisk sparked with electricity, Talonflame preened its singed feathers, and an absolutely massive Conkeldurr hoisted its concrete pillars over one shoulder like they were nothing more than twigs.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Is this real life?” Isabelle muttered, unable to tear her eyes away from Colby, whose grin was so wide it practically split his face in half. She pointed at the screen, half horrified, half amazed. “Did he just… did he just yell ‘kerplunk’ like it was a legit move?”
Amélie snorted, doubling over as she struggled to contain her laughter. “Oh, Isabelle. Welcome to Colby Ferris. The guy’s been Glow Dome’s reigning champ for three weeks, and no one has a clue what he’s talking about half the time.”
“I—what—how?” Isabelle stammered, gesturing wildly at the screen. “Is this a battle, or did someone let a Chatot hyped up on Rare Candies take over the mic?”
Milo ignored them both, his fingers gliding across the VireBand as he zoomed in on another clip. “Say what you want about his vocabulary, but his team is solid. Watch the way he rotates between Salamence and Heliolisk.”
The screen switched to another replay—this time, Colby’s Heliolisk zipped across the field, its frill crackling with electricity as it dodged an incoming Thunderbolt. From the side of the screen, Colby’s unmistakable voice boomed again, his enthusiasm unfiltered.
“HELIO! LET’S DODGE ‘N ZAP, BABY! SWERVE IT LIKE A MILTANK IN A FIELD OF MOOMOOS!”
Amélie cackled, clutching her side. “Like a Miltank in a what? I can’t—he’s ridiculous.”
Even Milo sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ll admit, his phrasing is… unorthodox. But focus on his Heliolisk’s movement. It’s exploiting its speed and Electric Terrain perfectly. Most Trainers can’t keep up.”
The Heliolisk skidded to a halt, its frill glowing brighter than ever before it unleashed a devastating Thunderbolt that struck a Gyarados dead-center. The Gyarados roared and collapsed in a heap, fainted in a single hit.
“KERPLOOOOONK!” Colby’s triumphant yell rang through the replay again, his voice shrill with excitement. “YA LOVE TO SEE IT! MY BOY HELIO OUT HERE MAKIN’ IT LOOK EASY!”
Isabelle clapped her hands over her ears in mock agony. “I cannot deal with this guy. He sounds like he inhaled three gallons of coffee before every match.”
“Three?” Amélie chimed in. “More like six. And chased it with a triple-shot espresso.”
Milo shot them both a look, as though personally offended they weren’t taking this seriously. “You’re missing the point. He’s chaotic, yes, but it works for him. He throws opponents off their game because they underestimate him. Look at this.”
Another battle flickered to life. Colby’s Conkeldurr faced down a Steelix, towering over its opponent despite the intimidating type disadvantage. Steelix loomed with glowing eyes, its massive metallic body curled like a wall of destruction. Colby’s strategy, however, was anything but conventional.
“Yo, Conkeldurr! LET’S GET THAT EARTHQUAKE MOVIN’! SHAKE IT LIKE A JIGGLYPUFF AT A DISCO!”
The Conkeldurr grunted, slamming its concrete pillars into the ground with enough force to create cracks across the battlefield. The Steelix, caught off guard, wavered just long enough for the arena to shift. Seconds later, Colby shouted again.
“FINISH IT! DYNAMIC PUNCH—FULL KERPLOOOOONK MODE!”
The Conkeldurr charged forward, its fist glowing with brutal energy before it swung, landing a devastating Dynamic Punch. The Steelix toppled over, crashing into the arena floor as the crowd erupted in wild cheers.
Isabelle stared at the display, equal parts horrified and impressed. “That worked? That actually worked? I’m so mad right now.”
Amélie wiped tears from her eyes, still laughing. “And that’s why he’s the Glow Dome champion three weeks running. You don’t know whether to cringe or cheer.”
“I’m leaning heavily toward cringe,” Isabelle deadpanned, though a reluctant smirk tugged at her lips. “I feel like my brain just short-circuited from listening to him. What does ‘full kerplunk mode’ even mean?”
Milo turned off the AR display with a flick of his wrist, his expression unwavering. “It means he’s winning. That’s all that matters.”
----------------------------------------
The Glow Dome loomed like a glittering monument as Isabelle, Amélie, and Milo made their way through its neon-lit corridors. The air buzzed with energy, filled with the chatter of Trainers, fans, and families weaving between concession stands and souvenir shops. Holographic screens projected live stats, replays of battles, and advertisements for everything from exclusive battle gear to glow-in-the-dark PokéBall decals.
The main lobby was an intricate web of sleek, futuristic design, its polished floors reflecting the neon glow from above. Arches of shifting light created pathways, guiding people toward different areas of the arena. Isabelle barely had time to process the visual overload as Amélie steered her toward a glowing counter marked "Spectator Registration."
“We need bands to get into the main arena,” Amélie explained, her voice brimming with excitement. “They track where you’re sitting and block you from wandering into VIP zones unless you’re allowed. It’s Glow Dome policy.”
“Great,” Isabelle muttered, her sarcasm sharp. “Can’t wait to strap on my official tracking device.”
Milo glanced at her, mildly amused. “It’s not a tracking device. It’s for security and crowd management. They’re practical.”
“They’re invasive,” Isabelle shot back, but Amélie was already dragging her to the counter.
The attendant greeted them with a rehearsed smile. “Welcome to the Glow Dome! Please scan your VireBands or Trainer IDs to register.”
Amélie tapped her VireBand against the scanner first, the device lighting up with a soft chime. The attendant handed her a sleek bracelet, its faint glow matching the orange highlights of her VireBand. “You’re all set! Section C, row 8.”
Milo went next, his VireBand displaying a series of data streams as it synced with the system. He received a navy-blue bracelet with a quiet “Thank you for registering.”
Isabelle hesitated before stepping up. She tapped her VireBand, the scanner lighting up with a soft beep. Moments later, the attendant handed her a bracelet glowing in faint lavender—matching her VireBand. “Section C, row 9. Enjoy the matches!”
As they headed toward their section, Isabelle stared at the bracelet on her wrist, her thoughts bubbling. Great. Now I’m officially tagged like a Mareep in a herd. Progress.
The Glow Dome buzzed with anticipation, the energy in the air almost electric as fans packed into the stands. The arena was a dazzling spectacle, the dynamic terrains below flickering through holographic simulations—craggy cliffs, dense forests, shimmering lakes—before settling back into a neutral state. Above, massive screens displayed live feeds, stats, and commentary, ensuring that no one missed a moment of the action.
Isabelle, Amélie, and Milo had settled into their seats, their special Glow Dome spectator bracelets glowing faintly with their section colors. The roar of the crowd was deafening, making Isabelle’s heart pound faster with every passing second.
Amélie leaned toward Isabelle, her voice raised over the noise. “Get ready. They’re introducing Colby first.”
“Kerplunk guy?” Isabelle asked, her tone drenched in disbelief. “Fantastic. Can’t wait to hear his wisdom.”
Amélie laughed, but Milo shushed them both, his focus razor-sharp on the stage below. Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t notice—he was already pulling up stats on his VireBand, the AR display flickering softly in the dim lighting.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” boomed the voice of Felix Sparks, the Glow Dome’s charismatic announcer. His silver hair and flashy neon blazer lit up the central screen as he gestured theatrically. “It’s time to introduce one of today’s challengers—a Trainer who’s been tearing up the Glow Dome with three consecutive weekly wins. Give it up for your reigning champion… Colby Ferris!”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy as the stadium lights dimmed, casting an electric glow toward the far side of the arena. The heavy bassline of a custom beat thumped through the speakers, and the door slid open with a hiss of smoke and neon light. Out strutted Colby Ferris, his sideways cap practically defying gravity and his oversized hoodie pulsing with faint LED patterns that shifted from fiery red to electric blue. He moved with a swagger that screamed confidence, one hand casually flipping a PokéBall, the other pointing dramatically to the sky.
Behind him, Salamence emerged from the mist, its wings flexing wide as it let out a low, guttural growl. The dragon’s scales shimmered in the stadium lights, giving it an almost otherworldly glow as it stalked behind its Trainer.
Colby’s mic crackled to life, his words hitting the Dome like a Thunderbolt. “Yo, yo, yo! Glow Dome, ya feel that buzz? ‘Cause we ‘boutta KERPLUNK this place into the stratosphere!” He spun the PokéBall on his finger like a seasoned juggler before catching it mid-air with a flourish. “Stay frisky, stay risky! Salamence, it’s time to flex—let’s go, baby! KERPLUNK!”
The crowd roared in response, the energy contagious as Colby strode confidently toward his side of the battlefield, Salamence prowling at his heels. His mic cut out for a moment, but his exaggerated gestures and constant energy made it clear: this wasn’t just a battle—it was a performance.
Isabelle groaned audibly. “I can’t. This guy. What is he even saying?”
Milo didn’t even look up from his notes. “Ignore the personality. His team coordination is exceptional.”
“Exceptional?” Isabelle repeated, pointing at the screen. “He just said ‘stay frisky.’ Are we watching the same match?”
Amélie couldn’t stop laughing. “Welcome to Colby Ferris, Isabelle. You either love him, hate him, or both.”
“Yo, crowd, keep that energy goin’!” Colby continued, gesturing wildly as he crossed the walkway. “We ‘bout to hit full KERPLOOOONK mode! Salamence, you ready to light this place up?”
Salamence let out a deep, rumbling roar, and the crowd went wild. Isabelle covered her ears, wincing. “Is there a volume setting for this guy? Or a mute button?”
Milo, engrossed in his VireBand, spoke without looking up. “Say what you will about his personality, but his strategy is solid. He doesn’t just rely on brute force; he uses unpredictability to keep his opponents off balance.”
“Sure,” Isabelle said flatly, pointing at the screen. “That guy? A tactical genius? Look at him.”
Colby paused mid-walk to strike a double thumbs-up pose for the cameras, his Salamence gliding overhead. “Let’s make it happen, fam! KERPLOOOOONK!”
Amélie laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her seat. “Okay, but tell me that isn’t entertaining.”
Isabelle sighed. “Entertaining like watching a slow-motion train wreck, maybe.”
Milo finally looked up, his expression serious. “He’s flashy, but it works. His opponents underestimate him because of his antics. That’s why he’s been winning.”
Felix Sparks’s voice boomed again, the spotlight shifting to the other side of the stadium. “And now, his challenger… a name some of you might recognize. After two years away from the competitive scene, he’s back to make waves in Lumora City! Give it up for… Veyron Lux!”
The crowd’s energy changed instantly. The deafening cheers that had been roaring for Colby moments ago were swallowed by a strange ripple—whispers of recognition and awe spreading like wildfire. It was as though someone had flipped a switch, transforming the atmosphere into something charged, weighty, and oddly reverent. Isabelle froze, the shift so stark it sent a chill down her spine.
What the fuck? Isabelle’s internal monologue stumbled to catch up with reality. She could feel it—something unspoken settling over the crowd, heavier than the noise it replaced.
Amélie shot to her feet, gripping the rail of their section with both hands, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “No way,” she blurted out, her voice cutting through the murmurs around them. “What is he doing here?”
Isabelle blinked, glancing between Amélie and the stage, her confusion mounting. “Wait, who’s he?” she asked, but Amélie ignored her, her attention laser-focused on the figure stepping onto the walkway.
Milo, seated on Isabelle’s other side, adjusted his glasses with a sharp, deliberate motion. The faint glow from his VireBand reflected off his lenses as he leaned slightly forward, his analytical focus shifting into overdrive. “That’s Veyron Lux,” he said softly, almost as if speaking the name too loudly would break some unspoken rule. “The Silent Strategist.”
“The what strategist?” Isabelle asked, feeling more lost by the second. Her gaze flicked back to the stage, where a man had stepped into the spotlight, his presence cutting through the Dome’s atmosphere like a blade.
Veyron Lux moved with the kind of confidence that wasn’t loud or showy—it was sharp, precise, and utterly unshakable. His tailored navy suit caught the light in a subtle sheen, the silver accents along the cuffs and lapels shimmering faintly with each step. Designer sunglasses obscured his eyes, but his expression—or lack thereof—said everything. He carried himself as if the world bent to his will without him needing to demand it.
The crowd didn’t just react—they adjusted to him. Cheers turned to murmurs, awe replacing excitement. Even Colby Ferris, halfway across the arena, seemed to falter slightly in his exaggerated stride, Salamence pausing mid-step as if sensing the shift.
“Seriously,” Isabelle whispered, her voice low but urgent as she turned to Milo. “What’s happening? Did everyone suddenly forget how to breathe?”
Milo pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, his gaze unwavering. “Veyron Lux is one of the most talented Trainers the League Circuit has ever seen. Two years ago, he made it all the way to the final eight. People called him a prodigy. Then, out of nowhere, he disappeared from the Circuit entirely.”
“He disappeared?” Isabelle asked, frowning. “Why?”
“No one knows,” Milo replied, his tone laced with curiosity. “That’s part of why his recent appearances here at the Glow Dome are so strange. Someone of his caliber doesn’t usually compete in places like this.”
Amélie scoffed, her grip on the railing tightening. “Of course he’s here. The Glow Dome’s been hyping him up for weeks—‘Silent Strategist’ this, ‘Unstoppable Comeback’ that. It’s like they’re determined to make everyone forget what a smug ass he was back on the Circuit.”
“Wait, you know him?” Isabelle asked, turning to Amélie, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Veyron.
“Oh, I know him,” Amélie said, her voice dripping with bitterness. “He’s the guy who destroyed my brother in the League Circuit two years ago. Didn’t even break a sweat. And now he’s slumming it here for whatever reason.”
Destroyed her brother? Isabelle blinked, trying to piece it together. What is it with this guy? she thought, her fingers curling into her jacket. Why does it feel like he knows something none of us do? “So… he’s good?”
Amélie whipped her head around, giving Isabelle a look that was almost incredulous. “Good? He’s terrifying. He doesn’t make mistakes. Not even little ones. It’s like he sees five moves ahead while you’re still deciding your first.”
Isabelle turned her attention back to Veyron, who had reached his side of the battlefield. He paused just before stepping onto the arena floor, adjusting his sunglasses with an almost dismissive gesture. His Gallade stood at his side, its elegant frame and glowing blades as poised and sharp as its Trainer.
“And he’s just… back now?” Isabelle muttered, her voice tinged with confusion. Something about the way Veyron carried himself tugged at her—like gravity, pulling her attention whether she wanted it or not. It wasn’t just the shift in the crowd, or Amélie’s visible frustration, or even Milo’s calculated interest. It was him. He exuded something she couldn’t quite name, but it stirred an uncomfortable knot in her chest. A mix of awe, curiosity, and something else she didn’t want to examine too closely.
“Why does it feel like everyone here knows some big secret, and I missed the memo?” Isabelle whispered under her breath. She crossed her arms, trying to ground herself against the growing unease creeping into her thoughts. Focus. He’s just a guy in a suit with good Pokémon. That’s it. Get a grip.
The announcer, Felix Sparks, broke through her spiraling thoughts, his voice booming across the Dome with renewed excitement. “And now, Trainers and spectators alike, prepare yourselves for an epic showdown! In one corner, our reigning Glow Dome champion, the unpredictable and electrifying Colby Ferris!”
The crowd roared as Colby struck another pose, his Salamence letting out a guttural roar.
“And in the other corner,” Felix continued, the energy in his voice shifting to something more serious, almost reverent, “the strategist who needs no introduction—making his long-awaited return to the battlefield… Veyron Lux!”
The crowd’s reaction was immediate and unanimous: a mix of awe, reverence, and raw anticipation. Isabelle stiffened, her eyes locked on Veyron as he stepped forward. He didn’t pose, didn’t smile, didn’t even acknowledge the crowd. He just walked to his position, each step deliberate and unhurried. He didn’t demand attention—it was given freely, as if the air around him carried its own gravity.
Amélie muttered something under her breath in French, her knuckles white against the railing. Milo’s fingers hovered over his VireBand, his focus razor-sharp. Isabelle, meanwhile, slouched slightly in her seat, trying to make sense of the strange pull she felt toward the man standing on the battlefield.
Just a guy with good Pokémon, she told herself again. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.