"What did you just say?!"
Barry's voice shot upward, sharp and incredulous. Disbelief flashed across his face, quickly followed by anger.
"Sunyshore Gym is recognized as the strongest Gym in the entire Sinnoh region! Are you really going to treat it like this? Do you think that's worthy of the Beacon Badge?"
His words weren't just loud—they carried genuine frustration.
He had traveled a long way to reach Sunyshore City. He had imagined an electrifying battle. A climactic showdown. A test worthy of the final Badge before the League.
Instead, he found indifference.
To hear the Gym Leader speak so flatly—so detached—felt like a slap across the face.
"If you won't correct this," Barry continued heatedly, stepping forward, "then I'll report it to my father!"
The declaration wasn't empty.
Although Palr held no formal administrative role within the Pokémon League, he was the Tower Tycoon of the Battle Tower and one of the Frontier Brains of the Battle Frontier. His influence extended beyond the Tower's walls. Through Scott—the founder of the Battle Frontier—and other high-ranking League officials, filing a complaint would not be difficult.
Volkner remained unmoved.
"Do what you want," he replied flatly. "It doesn't matter."
There was no challenge in his tone. No defensiveness. No irritation.
Just emptiness.
His gaze drifted away from Barry and Gary, settling sowhere distant—as though the conversation happening in front of him was little more than background noise.
The truth was simple.
The Trainers who ca to challenge him were too weak.
One after another, they had fallen. Predictable strategies. Repetitive mistakes. Battles that required no adaptation, no innovation, no effort.
At first, he had tried.
He had rotated his team. Changed tactics. Adjusted difficulty.
But over ti, the thrill faded.
Victory beca routine.
Routine beca boredom.
And boredom beca apathy.
Now—
He could not even muster the will to pretend.
"Mr. Volkner," Gary said calmly, stepping forward.
His tone cut cleanly through the tension.
"Are you truly no longer interested in Pokémon battles?"
Volkner blinked, faint surprise flickering across his features at the directness of the question.
"Yes," he answered after a brief pause. "I've completely lost interest."
Barry clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. If not for the Pokémon at his side—and perhaps the faint restraint of League etiquette—he might have already swung.
Gary, however, did not look away.
He held Volkner's gaze steadily.
"Are you certain it's disinterest?" Gary asked evenly. "Or is it simply that the challengers have been too weak to excite you?"
Volkner's expression shifted slightly.
"If you truly didn't care," Gary continued, "you wouldn't have stood there watching our entire battle."
Silence followed.
The words landed heavier than Barry's shouting ever could.
Volkner had originally stepped outside because of a minor disturbance near the Gym's outdoor training grounds—an electrically powered practice field he had personally designed for challengers.
But when he saw Gary and Barry battling—
He stayed.
Even though it was one-sided.
Even though the outco was clear early on.
He had not turned away.
He had watched until the very end.
And in Barry's reckless determination—his refusal to surrender against overwhelming odds—Volkner had glimpsed sothing painfully familiar.
His forr self.
The Trainer who once burned for battle.
The young boy who had felt electricity surge through his veins at the thought of a worthy opponent.
Volkner loved Pokémon battles.
That had never changed.
What had changed—
Was the challenge.
But as a Gym Leader, his responsibility wasn't rely to defeat challengers.
It was to guide them.
Temper them.
Push them forward.
If battles felt dull—
He could raise his own standards.
Strengthen his team.
Refine his strategies.
Force himself to grow alongside the challengers.
Gary's words struck deeper than expected, cracking the quiet wall Volkner had built around himself.
For a mont, sothing flickered in his eyes.
Then, without another word, Volkner turned and walked away.
"Hey! That's it? You're just leaving?!" Barry shouted after him, voice brimming with frustration.
Volkner didn't respond.
He didn't look back.
"Let it go," Gary said quietly. "Co on. Let's head to the Pokémon Center."
"Hmph! I'm still going to tell my dad," Barry grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Let the League deal with him."
Gary remained silent.
He recalled that when Ash had first arrived in Sunyshore City, Flint of the Sinnoh Elite Four had personally co to persuade Volkner to resu his duties seriously.
If Palr learned of this through Barry—
History might repeat itself.
"Let's go," Gary said.
Barry hurried after him, still simring.
"Hey, wait! Aren't you curious who my father is?"
Gary almost smiled.
Here it cos.
"Oh? Who is he?"
Barry puffed up proudly, chest out, chin raised.
"My father is Palr—the Tower Tycoon of the Battle Tower and a Frontier Brain of the Battle Frontier! He's an incredibly powerful Trainer!"
"I see," Gary replied calmly. "That's impressive."
"Of course it is!" Barry bead. "My dad's Dragonite is unbeatable! Most challengers can't even force it to use its full strength!"
And just like that—
The frustration vanished.
Barry launched into a detailed recounting of Palr's victories, legendary battles, and feats of strength.
He described Dragonite's devastating Hyper Beam.
Rhyperior's unstoppable power.
Milotic's elegant endurance.
Every match was narrated as though it were a heroic saga.
Gary listened patiently.
He did not interrupt.
After more than twenty uninterrupted minutes of enthusiastic boasting, he had to admit—
Barry might be loud, reckless, and impulsive.
But his admiration for his father was genuine.
There was no arrogance in it.
Only pride.
They arrived at the Pokémon Center.
Barry leaned forward eagerly.
"By the way—you've already collected several Badges. You're going to participate in the Lily of the Valley Conference, right?"
"That depends," Gary replied casually.
"Depends on what? You have to enter! I'll defeat you there and get my revenge!"
Gary raised an eyebrow.
Ambition truly had no ceiling.
"Alright," he said mildly. "If I have the ti."
"You're busy with sothing?" Barry asked suspiciously.
"Yes. I'm planning to challenge the Battle Frontier."
Barry froze mid-step.
"The Battle Frontier? You? Are you even qualified?"
Despite having just suffered a crushing defeat, Barry still struggled to reconcile Gary's calm deanor with the scale of that ambition.
Gary t his gaze steadily.
"I ca to Sunyshore City on my way to challenge the Battle Castle. What do you think?"
Barry's eyes widened dramatically.
"You're serious?! How many Frontier Symbols do you have?"
"Two."
"Which facilities?"
"The Battle Factory and the Battle Arcade."
Barry stared at him.
Shock replaced skepticism.
He hadn't expected that.
The Battle Factory required adaptability with rental Pokémon.
The Battle Arcade demanded navigation through unpredictable battle conditions.
Defeating even one Frontier Brain was difficult.
Two—
Was undeniable proof of strength.
"That's… impressive," Barry admitted reluctantly.
Then, stubborn pride returned.
"But my father isn't weaker than the Elite Four. He can even battle on par with a Champion! You won't dominate the Sinnoh Battle Frontier so easily."
Gary smiled faintly.
"We'll see."
He did not elaborate.
There was no need.
After lunch, Barry hopped onto his bicycle, pedaling away while talking animatedly into his phone.
Given the volu and excitent—
He was almost certainly reporting everything to Palr.
Gary rested briefly inside the Pokémon Center before departing at precisely two in the afternoon.
His destination:
Battle Castle.
Unlike the other Frontier facilities, Battle Castle was not open to the public.
It stood as private property under the family of Caitlin, one of the Frontier Brains. Entry was restricted. Only invited guests or officially recognized challengers could pass through its gates.
The structure lood ahead—elegant stone architecture rising behind wrought-iron fencing. Manicured gardens lined the periter, pristine and silent.
When Gary approached the grand entrance gates, two uniford guards stepped forward in synchronized motion.
Their expressions were professional.
Impassive.
"This is private property," one stated firmly.
"Unauthorized individuals are not permitted to enter," the other added.
They crossed their halberds lightly—not aggressively, but clearly blocking his path.
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