Welcome to Virelia—a land where innovation and tradition coexist in dynamic harmony. Spanning verdant meadows and dense forests, shimmering metropolises and quiet hamlets, this region pulses with life, ambition, and dreams. Here, Pokémon battles are more than contests of strength; they are the beating heart of its culture, a shared language that transcends backgrounds and unites its people.
Yet beneath the surface, the region is not without conflict. Whispers of Team Eclipse stir unease, their influence creeping into even the most tranquil corners. From wild Pokémon becoming erratic to artifacts disappearing from ancient ruins, their shadow grows darker by the day. Virelia’s Gym Leaders and League officials rally to preserve order, but cracks in the foundation widen. As the region looks toward its League Circuit, hope and uncertainty intertwine, setting the stage for both greatness and despair.
In Celestia City, the heart of the Virelia League, the Virelia Summit approaches its climax. Under the glow of Aurora Plaza’s celestial arches, thousands of spectators watch with bated breath as Leonard Hartfield’s Hydreigon unleashes its devastating Tri-Attack. The battlefield crackles with raw energy, the sheer power of the attack shattering Gavin Noir’s Zoroark’s illusion. Shadowclaw collapses, its crimson mane streaked with dirt, and the crowd erupts in deafening cheers.
"Leonard Hartfield’s Hydreigon roars triumphant, cementing yet another commanding victory! Gavin Noir, the enigmatic Ghost- and Dark-type specialist, has finally met his match,” the announcers proclaim.
For those in the stands and across Virelia, the battle is more than just entertainment—it is inspiration, a testament to the heights Trainers can reach. For aspiring competitors, it is both a dream and a distant horizon.
As the arena lights dim and the battle concludes, Celestia City itself seems to glow brighter, a beacon of Virelia’s enduring spirit.
Far to the east, Lumora City buzzes with life. Known as the technological and cultural heart of Virelia, it is a city of contrasts. The towering skyscrapers of the Neon District shimmer with vibrant lights, their displays advertising everything from battle gear to limited-edition Poké Balls. Nearby, the Glow Dome hosts dazzling battles and performances, its dynamic terrains drawing both seasoned Trainers and eager spectators.
Yet, amidst this cutting-edge modernity, whispers of the past linger. The cobblestone streets of Starlight Heights wind between quaint apartments and communal parks, where families and Pokémon play beneath gas lanterns. The neighborhood offers a quiet retreat from the chaos of downtown, but even here, the hum of Lumora’s innovation is never far away.
The van rumbled to a stop in front of the aged brick building, its engine giving a wheezy protest before falling silent. Isabelle stared out the window, clutching Azurill’s Poké Ball in her lap. The apartment building loomed before her like a judgmental teacher, silently assessing her worth and finding her lacking.
The building wasn’t exactly falling apart, but it wasn’t winning any beauty contests either. The ivy creeping up its sides gave it an air of tired dignity, like an old man who still wears a suit even though he’s retired. A few kids chased each other down the cobblestone street, their laughter echoing off the weathered walls. Pokémon lounged on stoops or darted between feet, their owners chatting animatedly about something Isabelle didn’t care enough to eavesdrop on.
“Well,” Émile said, grinning as he hopped out of the driver’s seat, “here we are!”
“Yup,” Isabelle muttered to herself, gripping Azurill’s Poké Ball a little tighter. “The fresh hellscape where my hopes and dreams go to die.” She climbed out of the van, squinting against the setting sun. The sky was painted in warm hues, the glow casting a soft light over the neighborhood. Great. Even the sun is trying to romanticize this moment.
Azzy popped out of her Poké Ball in a flash of light, chirping happily and bouncing on her tail like this was the best day of her life. Isabelle crouched down, scooping the little Pokémon into her arms.
“At least one of us is excited,” Isabelle muttered, nuzzling her partner. Azzy squeaked in response, her stubby arms flailing with joy.
Émile heaved a box out of the back of the van, his expression annoyingly cheerful for someone who’d just spent hours on the road. “What do you think, Izzy? Starlight Heights isn’t so bad, huh?”
Isabelle glanced at the building again. “It’s fine,” she said aloud, but her internal monologue was already running wild. Yeah, it’s fine. Like instant coffee is fine. Like wearing socks with holes in them is fine. Like dating someone because you’re bored is fine.
She looked down the street. A bakery emitted the warm smell of fresh bread, and a vintage-style lamppost flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the cobblestones. A woman walked by with a Meowth perched on her shoulder, the Pokémon swishing its tail like it owned the block.
“Fine,” Isabelle muttered again, though this time with a little less venom. Azzy wriggled out of her arms and bounced after Émile, who was already halfway to the door with the box.
“Come on, Izzy!” Émile called over his shoulder.
She sighed and followed, dragging her feet like a kid being marched to the principal’s office. As they entered the building, the smell of wood polish and faint lavender hit her. The narrow hallway was lined with old but sturdy furniture, and the walls were decorated with framed photos of landmarks from around Lumora City.
“This place has character,” Émile said, stopping to admire a painting of the Glow Dome.
“Character is just a polite way of saying old,” Isabelle quipped, earning a chuckle from her dad. She didn’t hate it, though. There was something comforting about the lived-in feel of the place, even if it was as far removed from Verdantia’s open fields as a Wailord was from being subtle.
They reached their new apartment on the third floor. Émile fumbled with the keys before pushing the door open, revealing a modest space with cream-colored walls and hardwood floors. The furniture had already been delivered, scattered around the living room like someone had been playing Tetris and given up halfway through.
Azzy wasted no time, bounding into the room and jumping onto the couch, her tail thwacking against the cushions. Isabelle set down her bag and took a tentative step inside.
“Home sweet home,” Émile announced, spreading his arms wide.
Isabelle raised an eyebrow. “Sweet? It’s got potential, sure, but let’s not lie to ourselves. This place screams, ‘I just got out of a bad relationship and needed a fresh start.’”
Émile laughed, patting her on the shoulder. “You’ve got jokes, kid. But give it a week—you’ll be calling this place home.”
If by ‘home’ you mean the scene of my inevitable mental breakdown, Isabelle thought, though she didn’t say it out loud. Instead, she wandered over to the window, peering out at the view.
Starlight Heights stretched out before her, a mix of cobblestone streets and cozy buildings with the Neon District’s faint glow on the horizon. It was... charming, in a way. Not Verdantia, but not bad.
Azzy chirped from the couch, wagging her tail like she owned the place. Isabelle turned and smiled. “Alright, Azzy, you win. Let’s give this place a shot.”
Her dad grinned and handed her a box. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s unpack before your optimism runs out.”
Too late, Isabelle thought, hefting the box and heading for her room. If karma were real, I’d be unpacking into a luxury penthouse right now. Instead, I get this charming ‘fixer-upper’ and a dad who thinks optimism is contagious.
Azzy bounced after her, chirping happily, and Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. At least she wasn’t doing this alone.
Isabelle set the last box down in her room with a dramatic sigh, brushing hair out of her face and surveying the chaos. Boxes were stacked against the walls, their labels scrawled in her dad’s messy handwriting. The bedframe was lopsided, and the mattress perched on it looked like it was questioning its life choices.
“Well, Azzy,” Isabelle said, planting her hands on her hips, “it’s official. We’ve moved in. And by ‘moved in,’ I mean we’re surrounded by boxes and disappointment.”
“Bloop!” Azzy chirped, bouncing on the bed as if to say, This is fine.
“Glad you’re keeping the bar low,” Isabelle muttered, prying open the nearest box. Inside were random books, a stuffed Psyduck she hadn’t outgrown yet, and—thank Arceus—her laptop.
She pulled the dusty old thing out and set it on her desk. The sticker-covered casing barely held itself together, like a Pokémon holding on with 1 HP. “Alright, old friend,” she said, flipping it open. “Don’t fail me now.”
As the ancient device wheezed to life, Isabelle dug through the box again, pulling out a tangled mess of wires and her tiny Bluetooth speaker. She plugged it in and placed it on her desk.
Azzy tilted her head at the screen, hopping closer. Isabelle grinned. “You’re about to see real quality content,” she told her Pokémon.
She clicked her bookmarked tab and pulled up BraixenVivi’s live stream, a chaotic mix of battle replays, training advice, and the occasional unhinged rant about how Ground-types are “just misunderstood.” The camera showed Vivi herself. Her sharp features were framed by her signature hood styled after a Braixen, and her cheery demeanor burst through the screen like an over-caffeinated Joltik.
“Hey, Trainers and future champions!” Vivi greeted, waving enthusiastically at the camera. “Welcome back to the Flamecast! Today we’re talking strategy, drama, and of course, that epic showdown between Leonard Hartfield and Gavin Noir. Spoiler alert: it was everything I wanted and more—unless you’re a Noir fan, in which case... awkward.”
Isabelle chuckled as she unpacked. “See, Azzy? This is what peak performance looks like. Or at least, peak fake-it-till-you-make-it.”
Azzy bounced approvingly, her tail wagging as the stream transitioned into a replay of the battle.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“So let’s talk Hydreigon, everyone,” Vivi continued, pulling up a slow-motion clip of Hartfield’s Hydreigon dodging Zoroark’s Dark Pulse. “Three heads, three times the trouble, and apparently, three times the dodge rate. Seriously, look at this guy—he’s like, ‘Miss me with that weak energy.’ And the synergy with Infernape? Absolute chef’s kiss. Noir didn’t stand a chance.”
Isabelle nodded along as she unpacked her books, placing them haphazardly on a shelf. “Yeah, because everyone has a Hydreigon and Infernape just lying around,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Bloop!” Azzy chirped, mimicking a nod.
“Right?” Isabelle said, pointing at her Pokémon. “We’d be unstoppable if we had one of those. Not that we’d ever make it past the first gym, but still.”
Vivi was in full swing now, switching to an analysis of Noir’s Zoroark. “And let’s not forget Shadowclaw—absolute legend. Those illusions? A work of art. But let’s be real, illusions can’t win battles alone, and Hartfield was out for blood. Hydreigon doesn’t play nice.”
As the stream played on, Isabelle pulled out a small mirror from another box and propped it on her desk. She gave herself a once-over, grimacing at the sight of her messy hair and the smudge of dirt on her cheek.
“Okay, Azzy,” she said, placing her Pokémon on the desk. “Moment of truth. Let’s practice our victory pose. You know, for when we eventually win something—maybe a raffle or a free coffee.”
She stood in front of the mirror, trying to mimic Vivi’s enthusiasm. “Alright, Trainers!” she declared, holding an imaginary Poké Ball high. “That’s how it’s done! Victory is ours!”
Azzy squeaked and raised her tail like a tiny cheerleader.
Isabelle froze, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her pose looked less “future champion” and more “awkward teenager cosplaying badly.” Her internal monologue didn’t hold back. Wow. Look at you. That’s definitely not cringy or anything. Maybe just go back to blending into the background.
She sighed, dropping her arms. “This needs work,” she muttered, sitting back down as Vivi’s stream wrapped up.
“Alright, folks, that’s it for today!” Vivi said with a bright smile. She struck a pose, holding up her fingers in a V-shape. “Remember: Train hard, stay lit, and keep those embers burning bright! Vivi out!”
Isabelle mimicked the pose half-heartedly, glancing at Azzy. “Stay lit?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “We’re barely smoldering over here.”
Before Azzy could respond with her usual chirp, Émile’s voice echoed down the hall. “Izzy! Dinner’s ready!”
The smell of roasted vegetables and spices greeted Isabelle as she entered the kitchen. Émile was already seated, serving up plates of stir-fry. Azzy hopped onto a stool, her tiny nose twitching at the enticing aroma.
“Didn’t take you long to make yourself at home,” Émile said with a grin, gesturing at Azzy.
“She’s adaptable,” Isabelle replied, sitting down. “Unlike me, who’s still debating whether this whole city thing is a bad dream.”
Émile chuckled. “Give it time, Izzy. Lumora’s got a lot to offer. You just have to be open to it.”
As they ate, Émile talked about his new job at VireTech, his excitement palpable. “The team’s incredible,” he said. “We’re working on some groundbreaking tech—like integrating Pokémon abilities into renewable energy systems. It’s the kind of work that could change lives.”
Isabelle nodded, chewing thoughtfully. She admired her dad’s enthusiasm, even if it felt a million miles away from her own uncertain path.
After dinner, Émile leaned back in his chair, giving her a thoughtful look. “Izzy,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I know this move hasn’t been easy for you. But I wanted to give you something—a little encouragement.”
He pulled out a sleek, compact device and slid it across the table. Isabelle’s eyes widened as she picked it up.
“A VireBand?” she exclaimed. “Dad, these are insane! You didn’t have to—”
Émile held up a hand. “Consider it a late birthday gift. And maybe a nudge to step out of your comfort zone.”
She turned the device over in her hands, marveling at its lightweight design and sleek interface. Azzy bounced excitedly on the table, clearly approving.
“Thanks, Dad,” Isabelle said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This is… really cool.”
Émile leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as he watched Isabelle examine the VireBand. Azzy hopped excitedly on the table, squeaking her approval as the device's sleek surface caught the light. Isabelle turned it over in her hands, the weight of her dad's gesture settling in.
“Thanks, Dad. This is… really cool,” she said quietly, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips.
Émile returned her smile, his tone growing more serious. “Izzy, I’ve been thinking… this move to Lumora was a big change for both of us. I know it hasn’t been easy, especially for you. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay cooped up here like you did in Verdantia.”
Isabelle shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had spent more time in Verdantia’s fields reading books than chasing adventure. Moving to Lumora was supposed to be a fresh start, but stepping outside her comfort zone still felt daunting. “It’s not that I want to hide,” she said, glancing at Azzy. “It’s just… everything’s so much bigger here. And louder. And… harder.”
Émile nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I get that. Lumora can be overwhelming, but it’s also full of opportunities. The League Circuit starts soon. If you wanted to, you could register as a Trainer, start your journey. Meet Professor Arden. This city’s a stepping stone to the whole region, Izzy. There’s a lot out there waiting for you.”
The idea sent Isabelle’s stomach flipping. “But… what if I’m not ready?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, Pokémon journeys sound amazing, but they’re dangerous too, aren’t they? You hear stories—people getting hurt, or worse.”
Her dad’s expression grew serious, and he nodded. “You’re not wrong. Pokémon journeys can be dangerous, especially for unprepared Trainers. Wild Pokémon can be unpredictable, and the wilderness isn’t always kind. That’s why it’s important to take it seriously. But the League has made strides to ensure Trainers are equipped and safe. You’ve always been cautious, Izzy. That’s a good thing. I think you’d be just fine.”
Isabelle bit her lip, her eyes flicking to Azzy, who tilted her head in encouragement. She turned the VireBand over in her hands again, the smooth surface cool against her fingers. The idea of stepping outside, into the sprawling city and beyond, made her chest tighten. But something about it—something about the possibility—stirred a faint excitement deep inside her.
“I’ll… think about it,” she murmured, a flicker of uncertainty still in her voice.
Émile smiled warmly. “That’s all I’m asking. No pressure. For now, though,” he said, his tone lightening, “you’ve got school tomorrow. That’s a good first step. Get out there, meet some people.”
“School,” Isabelle repeated, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Can’t wait to see what horrors await me there.”
Her internal monologue kicked in, full force. The only thing scarier than a pop quiz is the teacher from math class wielding a ruler like it’s a sword. High school is just a sitcom where every season introduces worse villains—finals, group projects, and whoever decided morning assembly was a good idea. At least in Pokémon battles, the chaos is contained to one arena.
Émile chuckled, clearly unaware of her mental tirade. “You’ll do fine, Izzy. Just don’t overthink it.”
“Overthinking is my default setting,” Isabelle replied, pushing back from the table. She gave her dad a lopsided smile before standing. “Thanks for dinner. And the VireBand. I’ll… try to figure out how to use it without accidentally deleting my trainer profile or something.”
Azzy chirped and bounced after her as she headed back to her room, the little Pokémon’s tail wagging energetically.
Back in her room, Isabelle closed the door with a soft click and exhaled. “Alright, Azzy,” she said, looking at the little Azurill bouncing energetically on her tail. “It’s just you, me, and this sci-fi wonder Dad handed over. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
She sat cross-legged on her bed, holding the sleek VireBand in her hands. It lit up with a faint, futuristic hum as the interface came to life. A glowing logo of the League sparkled on the screen before fading into a simple menu. Isabelle tilted her head, her finger hovering uncertainly over the first button.
“Alright, let’s see,” she muttered. “First step: figure out how to change the default Trainer name from ‘User_001.’ Because nothing screams ‘I have my life together’ like being called ‘User_001.’” She glanced at Azzy. “Second step: don’t accidentally sign up for the League before I’m ready. Third step: try not to panic about step two.”
Azzy tilted her head in that adorable way she always did, her round eyes blinking with pure innocence. Isabelle sighed. “Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that we’re not ready for the big leagues. Heck, we’re not even ready for the medium-sized leagues. We’re, like, the tiny kiddie pool leagues at best.”
Azurill chirped indignantly and launched herself onto Isabelle’s lap with a surprising amount of force for a Pokémon the size of a loaf of bread. The sudden impact almost made Isabelle drop the VireBand.
“Okay, okay!” Isabelle laughed, catching the device just in time. “Fine, maybe we’re slightly above kiddie pool level. But let’s not get carried away. You still think Bubble Beam is a war crime when it doesn’t work.”
Azzy let out a triumphant squeak, clearly satisfied, and plopped down in a happy little ball. Isabelle turned her attention back to the VireBand, navigating its sleek interface. The menu options were simple but polished: Map, Pokémon Stats, Trainer Profile, and Communication.
She selected “Trainer Profile,” and a blank page appeared with the words User_001 glowing at the top. Isabelle groaned. “Ugh, they really went all out with creativity here. Might as well call me ‘Generic Trainer Alpha Beta.’”
Typing on the touchscreen, she carefully entered her name. Isabelle (and Azzy!) appeared on the profile. “Much better,” she said, glancing at Azzy. “Gotta make sure you’re included. Can’t have people thinking I’m doing all the heavy lifting.”
Azurill gave an approving squeak, bouncing happily on her tail. Isabelle smiled. “Okay, next step—picking an icon. What screams ‘we’re low-key disasters but still lovable’?”
After cycling through a variety of icons—Poké Balls, elemental symbols, a generic Pikachu—she finally settled on an image of a slightly derpy-looking Magikarp. “Perfect,” she said with satisfaction. “Because if that flopping fish can eventually become a Gyarados, maybe we’ve got a chance too.”
Azzy didn’t seem to share the sentiment, pouting adorably at the screen. Isabelle laughed. “Hey, don’t knock the Magikarp. It’s the underdog story of the century.”
With the VireBand customized to her liking (or as much as she could muster without breaking into a cold sweat), Isabelle set it aside and began her nightly ritual. She rummaged through her unpacked boxes, pulling out toiletries and pajamas.
The bathroom mirror reflected her slightly frazzled appearance. “Great,” she muttered. “New city, new school, same dark circles under my eyes. At least I’m consistent.”
She turned on the faucet, splashing her face with water that was either lukewarm or just mocking her for not waiting long enough. After brushing her teeth, she pulled out her skincare products, lining them up on the counter. “Alright, Azzy,” she called out to the little Pokémon perched on the sink. “Tonight, we’re going full self-care. Because if I have to face a high school tomorrow, I’m doing it with glowing skin, even if my social life combusts on impact.”
Azurill chirped enthusiastically, as if endorsing the plan.
Isabelle worked through her routine with the precision of someone preparing for battle. Cleanser, toner, moisturizer—all applied with the seriousness of a Gym Leader assembling their dream team. “You know,” she mused aloud, “if high school had a ‘Most Likely to Overthink Everything’ award, I’d win. No contest. Probably by unanimous vote.”
Azzy hopped onto the counter, watching her intently. Isabelle dabbed a little moisturizer on Azzy’s tiny nose, earning a delighted squeak. “There you go, superstar. Now we’re both glowing.”
Back in her room, Isabelle changed into her pajamas—an old but comfy T-shirt with a faded image of an Alolan Raichu—and flopped onto her bed. Azzy curled up beside her, letting out a contented sigh.
Just as Isabelle was reaching for her VireBand to set an alarm, Émile’s voice called from the hallway. “Izzy! Don’t forget to set your alarm. School starts early tomorrow!”
“Thanks, Dad,” she called back, dragging out the words with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’ll be sure to wake up bright and early so I can experience the magic of teenage awkwardness in a brand-new location.”
Her internal monologue kicked in immediately. School. The sacred institution where you’re judged for everything from your shoes to your breathing volume. High school is like a never-ending Pokémon battle, except instead of trainers, you’re stuck with Karen from math class and her infamous ruler of doom.
She set the alarm on her VireBand, its soft chime confirming the time. Azzy nudged her hand, chirping softly. Isabelle sighed and patted her partner’s head. “Alright, Azzy. We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Time to sleep and dream about not tripping in front of a crowd of strangers.”
As the city lights of Lumora glowed faintly through her window, Isabelle curled up under her blanket, Azzy snuggled beside her. For all her sarcasm and anxiety, there was a flicker of hope in her chest—small but steady. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter wouldn’t be as terrifying as it seemed.
Maybe, she thought as sleep crept in, this was where the adventure began.