John sprinted toward the raging red Gyarados, his mind racing faster than his legs. He wasn't too concerned about failing the mission—starting over wouldn't be the worst thing. After all, missions like Project Volcano taught him patience. What really worried him was Pryce's cryptic warning: "The champion is already on their way."
If John's hunch was right, the champion he ntioned could only be one person—Lance.
Lance, the renowned Kanto Champion, also served as the Johto Champion since both regions shared the sa Pokemon League structure. Naturally, their Elite Four and champion overlapped. However, champions changed over generations. Lance, for example, eventually lost his title to Blue and returned to the Elite Four, specializing in Dragon-type Pokemon.
Although, calling him a "Dragon-type specialist" always felt like a stretch to John. Not all of Lance's Pokemon were dragons; they just happened to share the Flying type. Gyarados, Aerodactyl, and Charizard ca to mind.
In the ani, it was Lance who had stopped the rampaging shiny Gyarados, ultimately making it his own. That fact left John uneasy. This wasn't just a random mission—it was explicitly marked as a plot copy, aning the events followed a predetermined storyline. Once the mission ended, the scenario and all associated elents would vanish.
Would the Gyarados still exist after the mission ended? Probably not. That was precisely why John had co to the Johto region. He had his sights set on the crimson beast. The idea of Lance swooping in to snatch it out from under him was infuriating.
He glanced at his tir: ten minutes until the ti-limited mission ended. But John knew better than to trust that number entirely. Lance could arrive at any mont, and waiting for the deadline wasn't an option. His only choice was to capture the red Gyarados before the so-called champion showed up.
As the beast thrashed through the lake, John made his move, positioning himself directly in its path.
The Gyarados let out an earsplitting roar, its serpentine body twisting as its mouth began to glow. A powerful Hyper Beam erupted, searing across the ground in a blinding flash of white light. The sheer destructive energy in that attack reminded John of just how dangerous Gyarados could be.
Whether in the Pokemon world or his own, Gyarados had always been synonymous with devastation. Cities had fallen to its wrath for centuries.
John gritted his teeth. "Too bad I don't have an Electric-type with ," he muttered. As a Water and Flying dual-type, Gyarados was notoriously vulnerable to Electric moves—quadruple damage. If he had a high-level Electric Pokemon with him, sothing from the underground power plant equipped with Thunderbolt, this would've been over in seconds.
But he didn't. He had to rely on a different approach.
"Go, Tyranitar! Use Rock Slide!"
John hurled a Pokeball, and Tyranitar erged with a ferocious roar. A storm of sand rose up around the Pokemon, clashing with the downpour from the dark clouds above. Tyranitar slamd its massive claws together, summoning a cascade of boulders that rained down on the Gyarados.
The red Gyarados roared in fury, locking eyes on Tyranitar. Its primal instincts kicked in—attacking anything that challenged it. A torrent of water began gathering in its jaws, preparing a devastating Hydro Pump.
Before the attack could connect, a familiar and rather annoying sound echoed from behind John.
"Woooobbuffet!"
John groaned. His Wobbuffet had taken it upon itself to start taunting the raging beast. It clapped its stubby hands, cheering with wild enthusiasm.
The Gyarados froze, its glowing eyes narrowing in confusion and irritation. Then ca the rage.
"Great," John muttered under his breath. "You've really done it now."
The red Gyarados turned its attention to Wobbuffet, its roar shaking the ground. A surge of water shot from its mouth in an unstoppable Hydro Pump.
But before the attack landed, Wobbuffet vanished, teleporting a safe distance away.
"Keep it up, Gardevoir!" John called. His Gardevoir had been working tirelessly, using Teleport to keep Wobbuffet out of harm's way.
While Wobbuffet played the role of an infuriating distraction, John's other Pokemon had been chipping away at the red Gyarados. Greninja, Garchomp, and Blaziken darted in and out of the fray, landing quick attacks while avoiding the Gyarados' wrath.
The scene reminded John of his battle on the seventh floor of the Bell Tower, where he'd used a similar strategy to take down a particularly stubborn Dusknoir. "A good tank with a taunt ability is invaluable," he thought, watching Wobbuffet continue its relentless teasing.
But wild Pokemon battles were one thing—facing a trained Pokemon was another story. Against a skilled Trainer, Wobbuffet's antics wouldn't last long.
Just as John started to feel confident about his chances, a sudden explosion rocked the battlefield. The shockwave sent him stumbling backward, his heart racing.
"Where did that co from?" he gasped, scanning the area. The Gyarados hadn't launched an attack.
A voice, high-pitched and dripping with arrogance, cut through the chaos.
"You've had your fun, but this ends now."
John turned toward the source of the voice, spotting a figure in the distance. A Trainer stood there, their presence commanding attention. At their side was a Pokemon emanating raw power.
"Trouble," John muttered, bracing himself.
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