Pokémon: Sandstorm Sovereign

Chapter 82: A Shocking One-Hit KO

At 2:10 PM, Supervisor Sheffield stormed onto the training grounds. He had just received the news that Hoffman was organizing a placement battle for the newly arrived Basalt. He was furious.

I just put the kid in Group D this morning, and this afternoon you're holding a special battle for him? What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to slap me in the face?

Men like Sheffield would only see Hoffman's actions as a personal slight, failing to recognize that the root cause was his own wrongdoing.

"Supervisor Hoffman, what is the meaning of this? I see no need to organize a special placement battle for Basalt!" Sheffield said, his voice low and his face dark as he cornered Hoffman, clearly trying to suppress his anger.

Sheffield and Hoffman were of equal rank. Normally, Sheffield would address him as "Supervisor Hoffman." But to flaunt his seniority, he always added a condescending "junior" to Hoffman's title, as if to constantly remind him: You're new here, so you'd better stay in your lane. This was a major reason for the friction between them.

Hoffman pushed his glasses up his nose and said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Supervisor Sheffield, what are you talking about? Every trainee gets a placement battle when they arrive. It's written clearly in the camp regulations. How could I possibly violate the rules?"

"You...!" Sheffield's eyes bulged with rage, but he had no retort. It was true; the placement battles were mandated by the camp's official rules. He could pull the wool over Basalt's eyes, but not Hoffman's.

But what truly angered him was Hoffman's last two words: "violate the rules." That was the key point.

"I was streamlining the process!" Sheffield's face flushed. "The camp's time is precious. Holding these challenges wastes everyone's time. Our city's ranking in the regional league isn't great; we need to focus on training!"

It was a flimsy excuse. Calvin had received a placement battle upon his arrival. How could he now claim it was about saving time? The blatant double standard was impossible to ignore.

As expected, Hoffman immediately pointed out the flaw in his argument. "Supervisor Sheffield, I recall we organized a placement battle when Calvin arrived. It wouldn't be appropriate to deny Basalt the same opportunity, would it? We must treat everyone equally. Otherwise, morale will suffer, and the team will be difficult to manage."

A triumphant smile spread across Hoffman's face. He had never felt so vindicated. Since becoming Sheffield's colleague, he had been constantly undermined. This was the first time he felt like he had the upper hand, because he was undeniably in the right.

Sheffield's expression darkened. He knew Hoffman was determined to use this to humiliate him. He couldn't stop the battle now. His only hope was that Basalt was weak and would lose his first match. That way, he would still end up in Group D, and it would make Sheffield look like he had been right all along.

Basalt, let's see which group you can actually make it into, Sheffield thought, shooting a venomous glare at Basalt from the sidelines. He now hated Basalt with a passion. If Basalt hadn't gone tattling to Hoffman, none of this would have happened. Sheffield resolved to make Basalt's life difficult at every opportunity, to show him the consequences of crossing him.

On the training field, the A, B, C, and D groups stood in clearly demarcated areas. In the center was a standard battle court.

Hoffman stood in the middle of the court, beckoned to Basalt, and announced loudly, "Attention, trainees! This is our newest member, Basalt. As per the rules, he now has the opportunity to challenge the members of each group."

"The challenge begins with the upper tier of Group D. If he wins, he can proceed to challenge the lower tier of Group C, and so on. If he is skilled enough, he can even fight his way up to Group A!" Hoffman explained the rules, primarily for Basalt's benefit, as everyone else already knew them from Calvin's challenge.

The camp's groups all had an even number of members, split into upper and lower tiers based on skill. For example, the two members in Group B's upper tier could challenge the lower tier of Group A once a week. The two in the lower tier had to accept challenges from the upper tier of Group C. If a lower-group challenger won, they would take the spot of the person they defeated.

The Metro City training camp was a place where strength was everything. Status, resources—all could be earned through battle, as long as you had the skill.

"Now, will the members of Group D's upper tier please step forward!"

At Hoffman's command, eight trainers, both male and female, stepped out from the Group D line.

"Basalt, pick one," Hoffman said with a nod.

The trainers' eyes, mostly defiant, scanned Basalt. Some were curious, some dismissive, and some were eager for a fight. They were all strangers to him. But that was fine. It would all come down to luck. If he got a bad type matchup, it was fate.

"I choose... you," Basalt said, pointing to a boy in a red shirt with a friendly smile. The red was just too conspicuous. You're the one. Come get your beating!

"Go, Warren! Show this newbie what's up!"

"You can do it, Warren! We may be in Group D, but we're no pushovers!"

The members of Group D immediately started cheering for their comrade, Warren.

Of course, some also started quizzing Luke. "Hey Luke, that guy's from your hometown, right? What was his rank? What's his starter? What moves does it know?"

Luke was overwhelmed, stammering and unable to answer. On one side was his hometown friend, on the other, his group mates. He was stuck. So, he decided to just stay quiet.

Damn, what bad luck. Why did he have to pick me? the boy, Warren, muttered to himself as he walked slowly onto the battlefield to face Basalt.

The referee in the center of the court waved his small flags. "Both trainers, please prepare your Pokémon for battle."

Basalt and Warren each took out a Poké Ball and tossed it into the air.

"Drilburr!" Drilbur appeared with its signature flair, as stylish as ever.

"Marill~"

Unexpectedly, Warren's Pokémon was a cute, blue water mouse with a white belly and large, round, pink-lined ears. Its body was round with short limbs, and its black, zigzagging tail ended in a blue ball.

"Oh? A Marill!" Basalt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Azurill line evolved through friendship. To have evolved into a Marill in just over two months meant it had a very strong bond with its trainer. Furthermore, evolving into Azumarill didn't require a huge amount of energy; it wasn't a difficult evolution. In the games, Marill evolved into the "dragon slayer" at level 18.

The legendary dragon slayer! A wave of nostalgia washed over Basalt. His youth was coming back to him.

I wonder if it has the Huge Power ability? Basalt's mind raced. Huge Power was a broken ability that dramatically increased a Pokémon's physical attack. If a Slaking had that ability, it could probably go toe-to-toe with a Regigigas.

A short distance away, a smirk appeared on Sheffield's face. A Ground-type Drilbur was at a disadvantage against a Water-type Marill. While type matchups weren't everything, having the advantage could certainly make up for other shortcomings.

"Both trainers, ready! Battle, begin!"

At the referee's command, Basalt's thoughts were brought back to the present.

"Marill, Defense Curl!" Warren commanded first. To Basalt's surprise, despite the type advantage, his opponent's first move was a defensive one. It didn't make sense.

"Here we go. The defensive Marill build is online."

"It's Warren's classic strategy. Defense Curl, then Aqua Ring to boost its staying power. It's tough to beat without a super-effective move."

"It's already tough now. Just wait until it evolves into Azumarill. It'll be a total tank."

"And the energy needed for that evolution is low! Once it becomes an Azumarill, I bet Warren will move up to Group C."

"More than that! I think he could even make it to Group B!"

Marill curled into a ball, a white light glowing around it as its defense rose. But while Marill was setting up, Drilbur was not idle.

"Drilburr!"

With a sharp cry, it kicked off the ground, launching itself forward like an arrow. In the blink of an eye, it crossed the seven or eight meters between them. Its eyes narrowed, and its large, sharp claws began to glow with a metallic sheen. Like a heavy sword, it brought its Metal Claw down on the curled-up Marill.

BAM!

Metal Claw struck home.

The force of the blow sent the round Marill flying, rolling a great distance across the court.

"Marill..."

When it finally stopped rolling, it let out a pained groan, its eyes already swirling.

Marill, one-hit KO!

"How is that possible?!"

The entire crowd gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief, as if they had just seen a ghost.

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