Mason was no longer by her side.

He had simply turned his back on her—walked away.

Rika didn't bother stopping him.

The students entered the training ground on the schools backyard, each of them looking exhausted—terrified—before a single battle had even begun.

Seems like we’re not the only ones, Rika laughed to herself, somewhat desperately.

A dozen battlefields stretched across the area, each monitored by a referee equipped with a whistle and two flags—a red one and a green one.

Mr. Rosenfeld raised his hand, instantly stopping everyone in their tracks. “Now let me explain what kind of battle this will be,” he said, motioning to a stand covered with Pokéballs.

Hadn’t he already explained this?

“These will be single battles, however, you’ll be using a total of three Pokémon.”

The students gasped in confusion, whispers spreading through the group.

Until now, holding an E-rank, they were only allowed to have a maximum of one Pokémon on their team. So, this announcement was more than a surprise. It simply didn’t make sense.

“Since you’re not qualified for this amount yet,” he began, “you’ll be granted two additional Pokémon to use solely for this battle. Random Pokémon.” He paused for a moment, as if savoring the rising tension among the student’s faces. “Of course you’ll be allowed to take a look at them before the battles begin."

He raised his arm, pointing at the silver-colord watch around his wrist. “Five minutes from now, to be exact.”

Everyone stood frozen, taking in the scene. They stared in disbelief at the wide array of Pokéballs waiting to be chosen. The stand had four rows, each holding plenty Pokéballs.

To Rika, they all looked the same; just plain Pokéballs. So, it wouldn’t matter which one they picked.

Yet nobody dared make the first move.

Were they trying to spot a difference between them? Searching for some clue about which Pokémon were inside—which Pokéballs held the strongest?

We’re supposed to prove our potential as trainers by battling with completely unfamiliar Pokémon? Rika wondered.

As if we’d just caught them minutes ago in the wild…

She found a logic behind it.

Once they became real trainers, they would need to control caught Pokémon immediately—unlike in trainer school, where they had an entire year to bond with their starter.

Facing such an intimidating challenge, designed to push the students to their limits, the examiners probably expected them to panic—to crack under the pressure.

But to their dismay, Rika simply smiled.

Whether it was genuine confidence or a desperate attempt to mask her anxiety—to show that she wouldn’t give in to the exam’s psychological warfare—Mason couldn’t have possibly known when he looked at her.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Yet, her action must have triggered something in him, impactful enough to flip a switch.

He suddenly dashed forward, faster than Rika had ever seen him move. His hands reached for one Pokéball each, snatching a ball from the first and second row. Then he darted off into the distance.

Rika stood, overwhelmed, just like everyone else. Even Mr. Rosenfeld raised an eyebrow out of surprise, accompanied by a faint smile.

It took a moment for realization to kick in among the group.

Serious expressions scowled across their faces, eyes darting to each other’s feet, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Rika clenched her fists, taking a deep breath.

She was the second one to go. But surely not the last.

Even if delayed, Mason’s boldness now triggered an avalanche of students rushing toward the stand.

Rika felt their steps approaching from behind. Grabbing a Pokéball from the fouth and second row she ran off as fast as she could, barely escaping the chaos.

Elbows jabbed into ribs, hands stretched out far just to grab one of the desired balls. The whole scene resembling a Black Friday frenzy.

That was the first, hidden test behind this challenge.

Since there was no way to tell the Pokéballs apart, the only thing left to do was to find out what kind of Pokémon they had drawn. Quick.

Every second counted.

Every bit of information about the new lineup—every moment spent bonding with their new companions; it could be the difference between victory and defeat.

After the rush had died down, Rika distanced herself from the crowd, running past neatly cut hedges until finally feeling unobserved. Students were scattered all around the area, red beams constantly shooting and realising Pokémon.

Squirtle, Pidgey, Ralts, Rattata—a cacophony of sounds surrounded her.

She didn’t bother looking around—didn’t bother looking for Mason.

They were opponents now.

Rivals.

She had no business talking to him. And she definitely didn’t want to cheat by accidentally catching sight of one of his Pokémon.

Still, it felt strange.

Unfamiliar.

Being on her own.

She closed her eyes, trying to push away the guilt nagging at her nerves.

After a deep sigh, she reached for one of the Pokéballs.

“Well then, let’s see what we’ve got.”

With a soft click, it popped open, shooting out a beam of light that quickly took the form of a small, round creature with two oval-shaped feet. A leafy tuft dangled atop its head.

“Oddish!” it exclaimed, tilting up its head with a big smile. Its entire form swayed with the gentle wind, as if dancing to an unheard tune.

Rika’s features grew suspicious.

This clearly wasn’t what she’d been hoping for.

Despite her frustration, she crouched down, studying the Pokémon, who blinked at her with innocent eyes.

Slowly, Rika reached out, feeling the texture of its leaves beneath her fingertips. Oddish wiggled excitedly, content to bask in her attention.

“A turnip…?” She didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “Just me and my luck, I guess.”

Oddish puffed up, sounding indignant. “Oddish!”

Rika eyed the plant.

Unfazed by its anger, she grabbed her Pokédex, scanning the Pokémon.

“Oddish, the Weed Pokémon,” a robotic voice began speaking. “It’s typically found roaming the forest—” but it cut off as Rika spammed a button to skip the entry, wanting to proceed with the actual interesting info.

----------------------------------------

Oddish

Level: 15

Ability: Chlorophyll

Moves: Absorb, Growth, Acid, Sweet Scent, Mega Drain, Poison Powder

----------------------------------------

“Fine, I guess,” Rika shrugged, looking back at Oddish.

What the Hellhound?!

The stupid plant shoveled dirt aside, digging a hole in the ground with its stubby limbs.

“Hey, what are you doing there!” She watched as the Pokémon kept on digging, completely ignoring its trainer. It huffed from exertion.

She frowned, holding in a cry of anger. Her gaze went back to the Pokédex; maybe she should’ve read the whole entry after all.

Oddish was already halfway inside the earth when Rika grabbed it by its leaves, trying to pull it out.

“Stop that, I don’t have time-“

Big mistake.

The creature began screeching as if ignited, loud enough to drive even an Exploud insane.

Rika let go in shock, stumbling backward and falling to the ground. Oddish, however, continued burrowing its own grave into the ground like a Diglett. Was it suffering from an identity crisis or what?!

“Get back here. Now. That’s an order!”

Only then did she realize that some of her classmates were staring at her, holding back giggles. It were the same kinds of looks a mother got when struggling to control her screaming child, failing miserably.

Embarrassment overwhelmed Rika as she hastily grabbed the Pokéball and pointed it at Oddish, which was almost completely buried by now, with only its leaves sticking out.

“That’s enough for now,” she said, trying to sound confident, and sent out the beam to return it.

“Time’s up, dear students!” Mr. Rosenfeld’s voice boomed from speakers across the place. “Please proceed to your assigned arenas and prepare for battle.”

Rika’s heart sank.

Already?!