After making sure Charm was okay, I called him back into his Pokéball, proud that he had managed to fight Sylva’s Pokémon to something resembling a standstill. We had managed to force her to use attacks far above his level to break free, or the fight would have been utterly one-sided. It made me wonder how much she had held back tactically, if she had some way to clear the visual obstruction faster or overcome such disadvantages in other ways, but I’d likely never know. I certainly would have to consider tactics against such tricks in the future, or I might get hosed by them at some point. Either way, I felt good about the fight.
As I walked back, Cliff was walking past me, the next contender against Sylva. I didn’t envy him, for him, the Grass-types favoured by Sylva were some of the hardest foes to face, especially for his first partner, Shelly the Squirtle. Lumi, his Abra, had an advantage against the Poison-type that was a common secondary type for Grass-types, while Buddy, his Budew, had a secondary Poison-type that was effective against Grass-types. If his Buddy was a Roselia by now, that was what I would most likely pick, even if it could backfire.
“Well done,” Claire complimented me when I stopped next to her.
“Thanks, I might have been lucky,” I admitted before we both focused back on the field, where both combatants had sent out their Pokémon. My first instinct was to feel smug, as I had guessed right, on Cliff’s side of the field was the somewhat familiar form of a Roselia, the two petal-like arms already spreading a sweet scent. Cliff’s Roselia lacked some of the easy grace and confidence I had seen in Dawn, Ivie’s Roserade, but I had a feeling that would come with time and experience.
After the brief moment of smugness passed, I focused on the Pokémon on the other side and felt myself wince. This time, the difference in physical appearance favoured the other side, where a mushroom-headed bipedal Pokémon was already bouncing up and down, the Breloom looking ready to jump forward any moment. The problem of that match-up was that, unless my memory was playing tricks, the Breloom had a secondary Fighting-type, thus nullifying the advantage Cliff had likely hoped for.
Both sides sprung into action at about the same time, Buddy opening up with a salvo of toxic stings, trying to seize the initiative and maybe make the Breloom suffer from poison, so he had a chance to win the endurance battle. Sadly, the Breloom managed to bounce aside, leaving behind a substitute that took the hit. Before Buddy could try again, a handful of seeds was tossed on him, taking root and starting to train his strength, similar to what had happened to Twiggy earlier.
On Cliff’s command, Buddy tried to change tactics, using wide-area spore attacks, trying to catch the swiftly moving Breloom in the effect. This time, the Breloom didn’t quite manage to get away and I noticed it starting to slow, the movement reminding me of Twiggy’s earlier predicament, the situation bringing a small smile to my face. Neither Pokémon was having a terribly good time, and the Breloom started closing in. It was still not directly attacking but in what looked like a deliberate stall moving closer, avoiding the glittering leaves shot out by Buddy.
Finally, after avoiding yet another set of leaves, the Breloom suddenly shot forward with unprecedented speed and rapidly dispatched the poor Buddy, beating the slender Roselia to the ground with fast punches and kicks. What little resistance Buddy could put up with his Magical Leaves was brushed aside and Cliff could only call his partner back in defeat.
He likely had done the best he could, with limited options and I emphasised with him. Getting stomped never felt good.
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As he came back, I gave him a nod of greeting, as Lucas went forward, for the last battle. Cliff looked a little down and a part of me wanted to comfort him, but I lacked the words to do so. If it was Charm or Vio, I would have happily hugged and cuddled them, until they felt better but there was no way I would act so intimate with him. I might give Claire a hug, or let her cry on my shoulder, but cuddling was a step too far, for either of them.
The final pair of Pokémon was sent out, and I felt a frown on my face. It would be a spicy battle, that was for certain.
On Lucas’ side, the battling Pokémon was his initial partner, the slender monkey Monferno, somewhat similar to my beloved Charm with the flame merrily burning on the tip of his tail but where Charm was somewhat stoic and reliable, Champ was already hopping around, trying to look everywhere at once, like a bundle of energy.
Opposite of him was a Pokémon Claire was watching with wide, glittering eyes. It was what Twiggy would become if she carefully kept training him, the hedges on the land-turtle’s back now a full-grown tree, the Torterra looking very much like a walking mountain.
The difference drove, once again, home that the battle was not a fair one. If we had gone out in a different order, it might be a battle between Grotle and Torterra, a fight with an almost painfully obvious outcome.
Before my considerations could get anywhere, the battle began, Lucas’ Monferno making a rapid leap forward, trying to give the Torterra a flying kick, the food shrouded in a sharp glow. In response, the Torterra used a move I had seen used by Claire, only when her Twiggy used Withdraw, the effect was somewhat limited, both in feel and appearance, while Sylva’s Torterra very much looked like a mountain, immovable and utterly indestructible.
Champ’s kick crashed into it full force but the only effect I could see was that Champ dropped to the ground, briefly limping from the brutal impact. The Torterra was utterly unimpressed.
Surprisingly, instead of settling in and starting to draw power from the ground, the Torterra gave Champ a bump, sending him flying with a tackle. There was barely any run-up and very little speed, making me think that Champ should be able to shrug it off, but the tactic seemed to be off. Settling in and making full use of Torterra’s durability would make a lot more sense, at least in my mind.
I managed to stop myself from face-palming when the obvious reason hit me, Sylva wasn’t fighting to win, at least she wasn’t only fighting to win. She was trying to force us to think and use more than just the obvious ‘hit things hard’ strategies even wild Pokémon would know to employ.
Watching the battle, I could see how Sylva tried to push Lucas and his Monferno to adapt, not just attack with speed and strength but to work tactically. Every direct attack was rebuffed, something the Torterra was perfectly suited for, the rebuttal likely painful but not debilitating.
Finally, after Champ had tried the fourth, direct attack, only mixing between purely physical, Fighting-type attacks and burning Fire-type attacks, I had a feeling that Sylva had enough. I thought there was a bit of a narrowing between her eyes and when Champ jumped back once more after an unsuccessful attack, the Torterra stomped the ground, slate-grey energy spreading through his trunk-like limbs and into the ground.
In response, a sharp edge of stone-like energy shot from the ground, directly below the jumping Monferno. there was no way to dodge the attack and the Stone Edge directly hit him, sending the small monkey flying.
I felt myself wince in sympathy, knowing that the attack would be incredibly painful, likely strong enough to instantly knock out Charm, just as it had with Champ.
“I’ve seen enough,” Sylva declared, as Lucas called his partner back into his Pokéball. “Let’s get somewhere more comfortable, so we can discuss the battles. There are a few lessons to be learned,” she told us, walking back towards the door we had entered through, the four of us following after her.