Adamo Amet
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Chapter no.64 Austin vs Damien
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 18:56:36 +0000 UTCFour Days Later…
The stadium lights flared to life, casting a shimmering blue hue over the water-themed arena. The crowd packed into the Cerulean Gym roared as Daisy Waterflower stepped onto the diving board, her voice amplified by the mic in her hand, echoing across every speaker in the gym.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, travelers and trainers from all across Kanto!”
The applause swelled.
“Today marks something truly special,” she continued, her voice proud and unwavering. “After weeks of grueling battles and unforgettable matchups, our own Misty Waterflower has achieved her milestone — one thousand official Pokémon battles!”
The crowd erupted into cheers so loud, it rattled the rafters.
Misty, sitting in the VIP section, covered her face with her hands, embarrassed by the attention but she was smiling, too.
Daisy held up a hand for silence.
“With this milestone, Misty is now officially eligible to apply for Gym Leader of Cerulean City!”
The crowd cheered louder.
Gym leadership wasn’t just a title it was the lifeblood of a city. A Gym Leader brought a year-round influx of challengers, meaning consistent tourism, booming PokéMarts, hotel stays, restaurants packed nightly, and battle fans pouring into stadium seating.
It wasn’t just prestige. It was economic power. A Gym Leader changed a city’s fate.
“And now,” Daisy added, voice rising, “we begin the second stage of our tournament!”
Excitement crackled like static in the air.
“A single-elimination bracket. All our trainers who bested Misty now compete among themselves; for pride, for glory, and of course… for the grand prize!”
The crowd held its breath.
“First up… you know him. You hate him. You love to hate him. The loudest mouth and maybe the most controversial win in this entire tournament…”
A chorus of boos began before his name even dropped.
“Damien Calloway!”
Damien stepped out onto the battlefield in a tailored jacket, his hair wind-blown like he’d walked out of a shampoo commercial. He blew kisses to the audience — who responded with paper fans and foam Poké Balls being thrown at him.
“That’s right, let it out!” Damien called with a smug grin. “Can’t boo me after I win!”
“And his opponent…” Daisy’s voice turned playful. “You know him, you’ve bought his merch, and if you’ve laughed at a buff Pikachu in a tank top… he probably sold it to you.”
The crowd laughed.
“Give it up for Ash Ketchum!”
Austin walked through the curtain, hands in his pockets, Pikachu on his shoulder. A familiar Pika rumbled from his partner, low and ready. He could feel the weight of eyes some in support, some in suspicion.
But Austin didn’t care.
Across the field, Damien scoffed. “You’re bringing that thing into the ring?” He pointed at Pikachu with a smirk. “Hope you packed a toaster, ‘cause I’m about to fry your little rat.”
Austin didn’t flinch.
Pikachu’s eyes narrowed, lightning sparking at his cheeks.
Referee raised the flag.
“Begin!”
“Flash Cannon, Scizor!” Damien barked.
Scizor sprang forward, its metallic body gleaming as it charged up a dense orb of silver-white energy between its pincers.
Austin remained calm. “Iron Tail.”
Pikachu’s tail gleamed white-silver as he slammed it into the surface of the water arena with force that cracked the tiled basin below.
WHOOSH.
A towering geyser of water burst upward, splitting the pool clean down the middle a mini tsunami crashing down on Scizor.
The crowd gasped as the stadium misted with fine droplets. Water rained over the lights, catching beams of illumination and shimmering like crystal.
Scizor stood, drenched, its wings sputtering from the sudden dousing.
“Thunderbolt,” Austin said simply.
“Chu—‼!”
The lightning bolt exploded outward from Pikachu like a sunbeam made of fury. The electricity danced through the soaked battlefield, instantly attracted to the now waterlogged steel-type.
Scizor’s eyes widened.
ZAAAAP!
The lightning hit dead on. Sparks erupted across Scizor’s carapace, and the air filled with the scent of ozone and scorched metal. The mantis-like Pokémon twitched once then collapsed.
The referee stared for a second, blinking. Then raised the flag.
“Scizor is unable to battle. Pikachu wins.”
Silence.
Then the crowd lost it.
Even the Cerulean Sisters were caught off guard.
“Did that just happen?” Lily whispered.
“I… I think he just one-shotted a Scizor.” Violet jaw was on the floor.
“… Looks like our Austin is more powerful than we thought,” Misty said with a smile.
Damien, red in the face, hissed through his teeth. “Beginner’s luck.”
He threw out his next Poké Ball.
“Let’s show them real power! Electabuzz, let’s fry this mouse!”
With a flash of light, the humanoid electric-type landed on the opposite side of the field. Sparks danced across its body as it pounded its fists together, sending out a wave of static.
Austin simply raised an eyebrow.
Pikachu tilted his head, unimpressed.
Damien grinned. “Let’s see how your rat handles real voltage.”
Austin smiled.
“Funny,” he said. “That’s exactly what Pikachu was thinking.”
The referee blew the whistle again as the pool slowly refilled, gentle ripples forming over the surface. Austin exhaled, calm as ever, as he watched Damien practically bouncing with impatience on the other side of the battlefield.
“Electabuzz! Use Thunder!” Damien barked, voice smug with overconfidence.
Austin raised an eyebrow. Thunder? On a Pokémon with no specialized training for accuracy or field condition? That was… bold.
No, it was lazy.
Austin’s lips tugged into a thin line as he thought, Daddy’s money strikes again. That’s all this was. Damien didn’t train his Pokémon, didn’t teach them combinations or timing. He just bought overpowered TMs, slapped them on, and expected to win by brute force.
“Into the pool,” Austin said quietly, “and use Double Strike.”
Pikachu nodded and leapt into the water with a splash, disappearing beneath the surface like a torpedo.
Electricity gathered between Electabuzz’s horns. Damien grinned wide, arms outstretched. “This’ll finish your rat!”
The Thunder blasted from Electabuzz in a chaotic bolt of yellow energy. It cracked across the pool with an earsplitting boom, lightning dancing across the surface like living flame. The explosion of steam and light made several in the audience shield their eyes.
But when the smoke cleared… Pikachu was gone.
“Where the hell is it?!” Damien yelled.
Gasps and pointing fingers filled the stadium.
“Above!”
Dozens of Pikachu dropped from the sky like streaks of lightning, Double Team illusions casting flickering shadows across the battlefield.
Damien panicked. “Giga Impact! Take them all out!”
Austin barely held back a snort. Another TM? Seriously?
Electabuzz charged forward with reckless power, fists pulled back, a spiraling purple aura consuming his form. He plowed through the air, bursting through the first illusion. Then another. Then another. And then a yellow blur leapt from the pool like a flash of judgment. The real Pikachu.
“Sword Strike,” Austin called.
Pikachu’s tail shimmered like molten steel as it swung wide, catching Electabuzz square in the jaw mid-charge. The impact rang out like a thunderclap.
Electabuzz flew backwards, out of the arena, and straight into the psychic barrier that shimmered around the audience. His limp body slid down with a dull thud, unconscious.
The referee raised his flag.
“Electabuzz is unable to battle!”
The crowd froze stunned then exploded into cheers.
Austin let the applause wash over him, unmoving, not even smirking. But inside, he was thinking: He’s got no strategy. No rhythm. He thinks throwing power at a problem fixes it. He doesn’t train, he doesn’t connect. He doesn’t deserve Charmander.
And then someone from the crowd shouted:
“RELEASE CHARMANDER!”
Green.
She had waited for the exact moment Damien’s ego was teetering-when he needed to reassert control, needed something familiar to cling to. And she offered it like bait on a hook.
The crowd seized on it. The chant spread like wildfire. “Charmander! Charmander!”
Damien blinked, caught in the momentum of a scene he no longer directed. Green didn’t look his way, but Austin could feel her presence-cool, clever, coiled like a spring.
All according to plan.
“Go!” he shouted, tossing it out without thinking.
Charmander landed with a light tap on the field. He blinked at the arena, then at the crowd, then at Pikachu.
“Pika,” the electric mouse said, beckoning with a smug flick of his paw.
The referee gave the signal, but Damien didn’t issue a command.
He was too focused on sulking. But Charmander? He didn’t wait. With determination in his eyes, the little lizard opened his mouth and fired a thick stream of green energy, Dragon Breath.
Pikachu turned, glanced at Austin who nodded. Do it.
The breath slammed into Pikachu with a powerful whump, sending him flying backwards, sparks trailing from his cheeks.
“Pikachu!” Austin shouted as he caught the electric-type in his arms. His voice carried just enough panic to make the performance real. He smirked as he dusted Pikachu off. “Whew… didn’t expect that. Looks like Electabuzz wore you out just enough to let Charmander finish you off…”
The crowd erupted, their cheers booming like a tidal wave crashing through the gym. “Charmander! Charmander!” they cried, swept up in the sudden underdog story playing out before them. In their eyes, the little lizard had done the impossible taking down the unbeatable Pikachu in a single, dazzling blast. They didn’t see the strategy behind it. They didn’t notice the moment Austin and Pikachu threw the fight. All they saw was heart, fire, and a comeback worth rooting for.
The little lizard blinked, stunned. He turned slowly, seeing people clapping, kids cheering, adults standing, smiling, nodding. It was all for him.
He lit up, tail flame blazing, mouth curling into a wide, innocent smile.
Austin watched, his heart squeezing in a weird way. You deserve this, he thought. Even if your trainer doesn’t.
He gently set Pikachu down on the bench and pulled out another Poké Ball.
“Let’s keep this one going,” he said aloud. “A battle of dragons, huh?” He smirked. Even if neither of us are real dragons. He tossed the Poké Ball. “Let’s go, Horsea!”
Damien took charge the only way he knew how, by barking orders louder than his own insecurities. “Fire Blast!”
Charmander flinched at the command. The little fire-type’s tail flickered with uncertainty. Austin watched closely, lips pressed in a flat line.
Of course… He gave him the TM.
Damien had likely slapped the powerful move onto Charmander without care, expecting raw strength to replace actual training. Probably didn’t even bother to teach him Flamethrower first. Charmander hadn’t mastered the basics, and now he was expected to pull off an advanced technique like Fire Blast in front of a roaring crowd. It was like handing a violin to someone who’d never held a bow and expecting a symphony.
Austin didn’t need to say it aloud. He could see it in Charmander’s eyes: the panic, the pressure, the overwhelming need to perform… to be enough.
He hated this part. Hated seeing that look.
“Water Gun!” Austin commanded sharply, the words leaving his mouth before he could hesitate. Horsea responded instantly, unleashing a precise stream of pressurized water that struck Charmander square in the chest. The type advantage hit hard, but Charmander didn’t fall. He staggered, hit one knee, claws digging into the dirt, tail sizzling as steam rose in tiny hisses.
And still he stood.
Austin’s brows lifted just a fraction.
Resilient.
“Fire Blast!” Damien shouted again, like the volume would make it work. Like screaming the move would magically bring it to life.
Charmander turned, trembling, mouth barely flickering with flame, he was trying.
Austin exhaled, eyes shutting with a mix of pity and cold focus. Follow the plan, he reminded himself. “Twister.”
The command was calm, calculated. And immediate.
Horsea spun, releasing a spiraling vortex of dragonic wind and water that crashed into Charmander before he could finish drawing breath. The little lizard was swept up in the force, tumbled back across the field, and landed in a heap near the edge of the arena.
Silence fell for a moment.
Austin opened his eyes, gaze falling not on the fainted Charmander, but on Damien, still standing there, red-faced, fists clenched, looking for something…someone… to blame.
But Austin wasn’t watching to gloat.
No, his focus was already ahead.
This wasn’t about defeating Charmander.
It was about freeing him. And now that Damien had burned through his team, the real work could begin.
Time to get that Charmander the trainer he deserves.
