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At the sa ti, in the player lounge on the opposite side of the facility, the blonde noble girl sat with lowered eyes, listening with apparent disinterest to the speech from the "Champion of France."
If this had been any other person, they would have listened with rapt attention out of awe and admiration for a Champion.
But to her, the man on television was nothing more than soone who groveled before her mother.
How tedious.
The speech content consisted entirely of encouraging words directed at common people, though when it ca ti to exploit them, there was no rcy shown.
She didn't bother looking at the screen until the bracket results appeared.
The handso features of the black-haired boy ca into view.
"eting in the first round?" Zenia murmured thoughtfully.
During the preliminary round, Roy's Electabuzz had defied conventional logic and left a profound impression on her.
The outside world constantly compared her to Roy, hoping she could defeat him and demonstrate the advancent and power of contemporary European trainers.
To be honest, she didn't care about others' expectations imposed upon her - in fact, she found them sowhat repulsive.
However, this was the first ti soone her own age had been compared to her by the international community.
Throughout all of Europe, those so-called geniuses who received flattery from others had simply been born a few years earlier, in Zenia's opinion.
'I hope you possess strength worthy of all this attention,' the girl thought with pride.
If Roy truly matched her capabilities, then she wouldn't mind acknowledging him and potentially developing a friendship.
Roy and Zenia, the two most anticipated talents, had been officially scheduled for the day's final match, serving as the main event.
This was a classic organizer strategy.
With nothing else to occupy his ti, Roy could only observe other matches.
The results proved quite revealing.
In the Round of 32, two professional trainers faced each other directly.
Roy had expected a closely contested battle, but instead witnessed a completely one-sided crushing victory.
"This Amora is incredibly strong," Roy observed, watching the winner on the large screen and imdiately marking this competitor as a championship favorite.
Amora was a professional-level trainer from India who had created several master-level training techniques at a young age, established a large dojo, and earned the local title of "yoga master."
His strongest Pokemon was a dicham with the "Pure Power" ability.
dicham's innate pure power represented a special energy zone that combined Fighting-type energy crystals with Psychic-type energy.
The official Pokemon Index defined "Pure Power" as an ability that doubled physical attack damage.
The actual principle involved pure power energy invading an opponent's body during physical contact, causing extrely severe internal injuries.
This was similar to Lucario's "Force Palm" technique, but significantly more powerful.
Amora's dicham had obviously developed this ability extensively, with each attack often achieving four or five tis normal damage multipliers.
"What kind of training thods produced that?" Roy wondered with genuine curiosity.
In subsequent matches, Roy focused his attention on two specific competitors.
The first was Arlo, his fellow countryman who harbored suspicious intentions toward him.
Unfortunately, Arlo's opponent was too weak to force him to reveal his true capabilities. However, the Pokemon he deployed matched the intelligence reports - a Bisharp with Dark and Steel typing.
The second person Roy monitored was Takeshi Aihara, the adopted son of Japan's Fighting-type Elite Four mber.
Roy's interest in Takeshi Aihara was strategic - if Roy defeated Zenia and advanced to the next round, Takeshi would be his opponent.
Unfortunately, Takeshi Aihara's opponent was also too weak and was completely overwheld by his Heracross.
Notably, after the match concluded, organizers asked Takeshi Aihara a provocative question.
"Aihara, who do you think will win the upcoming match between Roy and Zenia?"
Takeshi Aihara paused, realizing they wanted him to make a prediction about the outco.
After brief consideration, he chose the answer that would generate the most social dia response: "Both competitors are geniuses, and it should be a closely contested match. I don't know who will erge victorious... However, regardless of which one advances, they cannot possibly defeat ."
"I am the strongest trainer here!"
"The championship of this tournant is already secured."
Translation: I'm not targeting anyone specifically - everyone here is simply inferior.
Upon hearing this, the European audience erupted in angry protests.
Facing their hostility, Takeshi Aihara smiled coldly. Having traveled internationally throughout the year, he had grown accustod to playing in hostile venues.
The more the audience criticized him, the more energized he beca.
"Ding!"
The bell in the player lounge rang, signaling match ti.
Roy stretched and put on a black baseball cap and black gloves.
Little Cosmog leaped onto Roy's shoulder to cheer him on.
Its two cotton-like appendages genuinely resembled cheerleader pom-poms.
During dostic competitions, soone always looked after Little Cosmog for Roy, but here it could only accompany him to matches.
Roy adjusted the edge of his gloves, opened and closed his fingers to test the feel, and smiled confidently.
"Condition is perfect."
"Welco everyone to the final match of the Round of 32 battles!"
The announcer's passionate voice reverberated throughout the massive arena.
"Entering from the west gate is the pride of France, the noble flower of the Reginald family! Today's competition features Champion Connie in attendance, surely bringing blessings to his daughter!"
The cara deliberately focused on Connie in the VIP section, the Dark-type Champion smiled while applauding.
Over 70,000 spectators cheered endlessly like ocean waves, filled with enthusiasm and love for France's beloved flower.
However, when Roy appeared on stage, the contrast was stark and imdiate.
"BOO!"
More than 70,000 people booed simultaneously - those who haven't experienced this personally cannot imagine the sensation.
Roy felt as though he was being swallowed by an enormous wave, and this wave was filled with contempt, disgust, jealousy, and pure malice.
Little Cosmog shrank behind Roy's head, trembling with embarrassnt.
"Entering from the east gate is the strongest genius from China. We hope he can et everyone's expectations today," the announcer introduced briefly, not forgetting subtle mockery.
Expectations? What expectations?
The European audience's expectation was for Roy to be eliminated quickly and decisively.
Roy maintained an expressionless face, gently lowering his cap brim while gripping a Poke Ball in his palm.
On the opposite side of the contestant area, Zenia frowned slightly. She felt impatient with the loud insults surrounding them.
If this affected her opponent's ntal state, she would find victory boring and aningless.
"The battle format is three-versus-three competitive battles. Both players, please select your Pokemon."
As the referee's voice concluded, Roy threw his Poke Ball without hesitation.
His chosen battle Pokemon was Lucario.
Zenia's Pokemon was a species Roy recognized very well: Weavile.
Unlike the wild specins from the Heavenly Mountain Reserve, this Weavile had been expertly trained and bred. The mont it appeared on stage, it exuded calculated and terrifying malice.
Its ability was Pressure.
This ability, often dismissed as "useless" in gas, functioned in reality as psychological coercion that intensified opponents' physical energy consumption.
This particular Weavile used superior Dark-type energy to amplify its natural ability, not only accelerating Lucario's physical exhaustion but also creating persistent illusions that it was constantly under threat of attack, causing Lucario's battle instincts to occasionally malfunction.
These illusions appeared ordinary but were extrely dangerous.
During battle, if you suddenly sensed imminent attack from behind, would you trust that instinct?
Believe it and waste energy on a false threat? Ignore it and potentially suffer real damage?
Truth mixed with deception, reality blended with illusion - this was the essence of Dark-type Pressure tactics.
Optimal stat distribution, move combinations, advanced training techniques, and in-depth ability developnt...
Roy had to acknowledge that each opponent he encountered was becoming more sophisticated and powerful.
The mont the match began, Zenia commanded coldly:
"Dark Pulse."
A terrifying aura filled with malice suddenly emanated from Weavile's body.
Simultaneously with releasing Dark Pulse, Weavile's eyes unfocused for an instant as it completed "Nasty Plot" instantaneously, demonstrating remarkably high move proficiency.
Nasty Plot activated the brain with Dark-type energy, dramatically increasing ntal strength and thereby enhancing the power of special attacks.
Dark Pulse, amplified by Nasty Plot, swept toward Lucario like a tidal wave.
"Aura Sphere," Roy countered.
Between Lucario's hands, an enormous Aura Sphere condensed instantly.
This exceptionally powerful aura energy caused several trainers in attendance to take notice.
Aura Sphere, possessing so Fighting-type properties, held natural advantage over Dark-type energy. Moreover, Lucario commanded aura power superior to others of its species.
In an instant, the Aura Sphere struck first, crushing the Nasty Plot-enhanced Dark Pulse with overwhelming force.
BOOM!
After defeating Dark Pulse, Aura Sphere continued unabated toward Weavile at trendous speed.
Weavile stood motionless, seemingly stunned by the attack's power.
But in the next mont, Aura Sphere passed through Weavile's form like piercing a soap bubble.
"It's Double Team," Lucario realized.
The oppressive Dark-type malice pervading the battlefield hindered Lucario's aura perception, preventing it from detecting the opponent's true location.
At the mont the illusion was exposed, Weavile suddenly rushed from a visual blind spot.
Extrely sharp Dark-type energy coated its claws.
The move was Night Slash.
After landing a critical hit, the follow-up combination would be Assurance and Beat Up.
In the minds of both Zenia and Weavile, their next sequence was already planned.
On this battlefield filled with malice, Roy raised his head slightly, his gaze beneath the cap brim blazing like torches as he spoke quietly:
"Is this really the extent of your power?"
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