The battle had begun.
Across the dirt ring, Lira moved first — sharp and aggressive.
"Meowth, Sand Attack!"
The lean feline darted forward, paws scraping up a spray of dirt toward Charmander’s face.
A classic opening — obscure the opponent’s vision, gain tempo.
Ren’s eyes narrowed.
Predictable.
Calculated.
"Charmander — eyes shut! Sidestep right!"
Charmander obeyed instantly, squeezing his eyelids tight and veering sharply to the right.
The cloud of dirt sailed past harmlessly.
Lira’s face tightened.
"Quick Attack!"
Meowth became a blur, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
But Ren was already moving.
"Counter with Ember — spread it low!"
Charmander whirled, mouth already glowing — and unleashed a fan of low fire across the ground.
Not a direct hit.
A trap.
Meowth darted forward — and ran straight into the edge of the flames.
It yowled, staggering.
Not badly burned — the move was measured — but enough.
Enough to disrupt the rhythm.
Ren seized the momentum instantly.
"Close the gap — Scratch!"
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Charmander lunged, claws flashing.
Meowth twisted to evade — and succeeded — but not without cost.
Its sleek fur now carried faint scorch marks.
Its movements sharper, more desperate.
Good.
Pressure was building.
Across the field, Ren caught a glimpse of Instructor Vale watching intently, arms folded.
Judging.
Measuring.
Lira recovered quickly.
"Meowth — Fury Swipes!"
Her partner responded with a barrage of claw strikes, slashing outward in a flurry.
Ren’s mind raced.
Charmander couldn't trade blows — Meowth was faster, sharper.
He needed to break the assault —
not tank it.
"Charmander — low sweep! Aim for the legs!"
Charmander dropped low in a sudden pivot, tail whistling through the air.
The sturdy flame-tipped tail slammed against Meowth’s forelimbs mid-strike.
The impact wasn’t huge —
but it was enough.
Meowth stumbled, its furious rhythm broken.
"Now — full Ember! Direct shot!"
Charmander roared — small but fierce — and loosed a tightly focused burst of fire straight into Meowth’s chest.
A clean, burning hit.
Meowth yowled again — thrown backward across the dirt, legs skidding wildly.
It struggled to rise — but its body shook visibly.
Its breathing ragged.
The referee stepped forward, raising a hand sharply.
"Enough!
Meowth is unable to battle.
Victory — Ren Oak!"
The field fell into a brief silence.
Then scattered murmurs rose from the crowd.
Ren ignored them.
He knelt beside Charmander, running a hand down his partner’s head.
"Good job," he said quietly.
Charmander chirped tiredly, leaning into the touch.
Their first official battle at the Academy —
and their first official win.
Across the ring, Lira returned Meowth to its ball with a tight grimace.
To her credit, she didn’t tantrum or whine.
She simply gave Ren a short, grudging nod — acknowledgment between warriors.
Ren nodded back, expression neutral.
Respect given where respect was earned.
Above them, the tournament monitors shifted, updating the brackets.
Ren’s name advanced into the next round.
More battles awaited.
Stronger opponents.
Smarter opponents.
He welcomed it.
He needed it.
Pressure forged steel.
And Ren intended to be sharp enough to cut through anything.
As he moved off the field toward the waiting area,
he caught glimpses of other battles ending:
- Steven’s Beldum striking down a Machop with a perfect zen headbutt.
- Lance’s Dratini coiling and launching a brutal Thunder Wave before slamming a Pidgeotto to the ground.
- Cynthia’s Gible tanking hits with raw endurance, waiting patiently before unleashing a devastating Dragon Rage.
All of them advancing.
All of them gathering momentum.
This would be no easy climb.
Exactly as it should be.
Later, as Ren sat with Charmander beside the low walls of the waiting area, quietly tending minor scrapes, Instructor Kael’s voice rang out over the speakers:
"Let it be known —
this tournament is not a game."
"We are watching."
"Not just victories."
"How you fight.
How you think.
How you command."
"Survival was your entrance fee."
"Performance here will determine who is permitted to stay — and who will be 'invited' to leave."
The message was unmistakable.
This wasn’t just about winning a few matches.
It was the first true filter.
A warning.
And a promise.
Charmander leaned against Ren’s side, exhausted but burning with pride.
Ren smiled faintly.
"Come on, partner," he murmured, rising.
"One down."
"Many more to go."