The man in the Groudon mask after he was sure that he got the attention of everybody said, “As you’ve surely noticed, all of you are dressed alike. Each of you has a code printed on the right side of your chest.”
Kay looked down at his shirt again. There it was: 10F. The number and letter seemed insignificant at first, but the man’s next words clarified everything.
“This code is not just a number. It is your ID and your rank. For example, someone with the code 27C is player number 27 among the C-rank players. Your rank reflects your rank outside. Only players from the same rank would face each other unless it would be unfair.”
Around Kay, others were checking their own codes, exchanging quiet whispers and concerned glances.
The man continued, ignoring the murmurs. “Now, let me address something you’ve likely already realized: you still have your Pokeballs with you. That’s no accident. Your Pokemons are essential to your survival in this tournament.”
Kay felt the familiar weight of the Pokeballs in his pocket. At least he wasn’t alone in whatever was about to happen.
The man’s voice grew more serious as he moved on. “This tournament consists of five games. After each game, many of you will be eliminated.”
He said while sliding his thumb around his neck. “Only those who prove themselves will move on to the next stage.”
The crowd reacted immediately. The whispers turned to gasps and even a few audible protests.
Kay clenched his fists, his mind racing. Eliminated? Did that mean disqualified, or was there something darker at play here?
The man raised a hand to silence the crowd. “The stakes are high, but so are the rewards. The last three players standing will win a grand prize: a massive sum of money and a rare, priceless item.”
He paused, letting the promise of riches and glory sink in. “Of course, the first prize will be the most valuable, followed by the second and third. But rest assured, even the third-place reward will change your life.”
The mention of the prizes brought a mix of reactions. Some people looked excited, their eyes glinting with greed.
Others looked anxious, focusing more on the word “eliminated” than on the rewards.
The man stepped forward, his Groudon mask casting shadows on the floor. “Starting today, you will be divided by rank. Players of the same rank will stay together in separate rooms. This is to ensure fairness and prepare you for the challenges ahead. You will receive further instructions in your designated quarters.”
As the man in the Groudon mask finished his speech, murmurs quickly turned into loud protests among the crowd. Some people stood up, their voices echoing in the large room.
One man raised his hand and shouted, “Why are all of you masked? What’s with the secrecy?”
The man in the Groudon mask remained calm, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise.
“That’s a fair question. As you might have guessed, this tournament isn’t exactly... legal. The Pokemon League often sends spies to investigate gatherings like this. To protect ourselves, we hide our identities. It’s for our safety, and yours.”
Another man stepped forward, clearly not satisfied. “If that’s true, then why aren’t the players’ identities hidden too? Wouldn’t that make us targets?”
The man with the Groudon mask chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “The League doesn’t waste its resources targeting players. You’re not their priority. Their focus is on shutting us down, not chasing participants. So, your identities are of no interest to them.”
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This explanation seemed to calm some people, but not everyone. A woman near the back shouted, “Then why did you take our belongings?”
The man’s tone remained steady. “Your belongings are safe. We’ve kept them in secure storage. They were taken to ensure fairness in the tournament. Some of you might have items that could give you an unfair advantage, and we cannot allow that. Rest assured, everything will be returned once the tournament ends.”
A wave of grumbling swept through the crowd, but the man in the Groudon mask raised a hand, silencing them once more. His voice grew more commanding.
“Now that your questions have been answered, it’s time to move forward. Guards will lead you to your designated rooms based on your rank. Follow their instructions carefully.”
As if on cue, several men wearing Cubone masks stepped forward. They motioned for the players to line up.
The Groudon-masked man took one last moment to speak, his tone more serious than before.
“Before you leave, let me remind you of something important. Participation in this tournament is entirely your choice. You are free to leave now if you wish. But if you choose to participate, know this: once the games begin, there is no surrender. You must see the tournament through to the end. That is the rule.”
The weight of his words settled heavily over the crowd. Some people hesitated, looking toward the exits, but most stayed where they were, resolved to face whatever lay ahead.
The Cubone-masked guards began moving through the crowd, dividing players into smaller groups based on the codes on their shirts.
Kay stood silently, his mind racing. His rank, 10F, meant he’d be placed with other F-ranked players.
The Cubone-masked men led each group to a different room, including Kay’s group. Kay followed quietly, observing the surroundings as they moved.
The new room they entered was smaller than the previous one but had a similar design; plain walls, dim lighting, and an air of tension hanging heavily in the space.
Kay took a moment to glance around at the other players in his group. There were about thirty of them, all wearing the same uniform with their unique codes printed on the right side of their chests.
Some looked confident, others appeared nervous, but no one seemed ready to back out just yet.
A man wearing a Marowak mask stood in the center of the room, commanding attention as he raised his hand for silence.
His voice was firm but calm as he spoke. “Before we proceed, let me make something clear. If anyone wants to surrender and leave, now is the time to do so. Those who would stay will need to sign a contract.”
For a moment, the room was completely silent. Kay glanced around, waiting to see if anyone would step forward and surrender.
But no one moved. Kay thought to himself that it was likely because everyone here was a talented trainer.
Their pride and determination probably kept them from backing down so easily.
The man nodded, seemingly pleased with the group’s decision. “Nice. It seems we have some courage here,” he said, pulling out a sheet of paper and holding it up.
“This is the contract you’ll need to sign. There are three main points you must agree to before continuing in the tournament. First, once you participate, you cannot quit until the tournament is over. If you attempt to quit, you will be eliminated.”
Kay frowned at the word “eliminated,” but he stayed quiet as the man continued.
“Second,” the man said, his tone becoming more serious, “You take full responsibility for your life. But if you die during the tournament at least your family will receive a sum of money as compensation. The amount of money depends on how many games you succeeded in before dying”
A wave of murmurs spread through the room at this point. The tension grew thicker as the players exchanged uneasy glances.
Kay’s stomach tightened at the mention of death, but he stayed focused, listening carefully.
“Third,” the man added, his voice cutting through the whispers, “you are not allowed to use your Pokemons outside of the official games. If you break this rule, you will be eliminated.”
The murmurs in the room grew louder after the second point. It was clear that many players were uneasy, but no one dared to step forward to surrender.
Kay raised his hand, breaking the silence. “What do you mean by ‘eliminated?’” he asked.
The man in the Marowak mask turned to Kay and locked eyes with him for a moment. The silence that followed felt heavy, as if the man was carefully choosing his words.
Finally, he spoke. “It means you lose the tournament, and you can’t win the prizes,” he said simply.
Kay frowned at the vague answer. Something about it felt off like the man wasn’t telling the whole truth.
But he didn’t press the matter further. He knew that arguing wouldn’t change anything, and at this point, he couldn’t back out either.
The man in the Marowak mask handed the contracts to the players, urging them to read and sign.
The players hesitated one by one but eventually wrote their names. Kay took the pen when it was his turn, glancing at the paper in his hand.
His instincts screamed at him to be cautious, but he pushed those thoughts aside and signed his name.
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