Charity Gala

Silicon Beryllium City.

Silicon Beryllium City.

Elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies drifted back and forth, holding drinks as they chatted and laughed softly.

The Pokémon, their fur adorned with jewels, carried themselves proudly as they displayed their most beautiful sides to those around them.

Huge screens hung throughout the hall, showing all manner of scenes from the desert, crowds of people swarming across them.

A man who looked like the host stood at the center, smiling as he held a microphone.

"Distinguished guests, the competition is about to begin. Let us welcome the esteemed mayor of Silicon Beryllium City, Mr. Ejin!"

The gentlemen and ladies applauded enthusiastically.

On the second floor of the hall, a short elderly man with frosted white temples held a cane. Wearing a benevolent smile, he slowly made his way down to the first floor alongside a Slowking.

The host jogged over with a cheerful smile and held the microphone beneath Ejin's mouth.

Ejin smiled kindly and said, "Everyone, it is once again time for the annual Charity Pokémon Battle Tournament. I trust you are all quite eager. As both mayor and chairman of the tournament, this old man would like to express his gratitude to all you charitable pioneers."

Clap clap clap clap—

The applause grew even more fervent.

Ejin continued, "As everyone knows, Pyrite Town's environment is exceptionally harsh. All sorts of children live there in dire straits, their livelihoods precarious from day to day. I believe this year's donations will certainly improve their lives even more effectively!"

"Well said!"

"Lord Ejin is truly compassionate!"

"What mercy! Lord Ejin is practically a saint reborn!"

The gentlemen loudly sighed in praise, while the ladies dabbed at the corners of their eyes with handkerchiefs.

Ejin's smile broadened. He slightly raised his right hand to calm them down. "Thank you for your excessive praise. This old man has merely done a little insignificant work. Allow me to set an example first: in my personal capacity, I shall donate one hundred million to the charity battle tournament!"

A wave of applause broke out—

The hall thundered with clapping.

"What generosity, Lord Ejin! I shall join in as well and donate seventy million!"

"Excellent! I'll donate thirty million!"

"I'll donate forty million!"

The members of high society rushed to contribute their money. Whenever someone announced a donation, they received Ejin's approving gaze.

Quite a few people flushed excitedly, as though they had been acknowledged by their idol.

In a corner.

A man holding a glass of red wine watched expressionlessly, as if he were observing some kind of performance.

This so-called charity tournament was undoubtedly a means for the mayor of Silicon Beryllium City and certain underworld forces in Pyrite Town to amass wealth.

The entrepreneurs and tycoons present had no choice but to take part in order to flatter them. Willingly or not, they had to set aside a day to watch this filthy Pokémon battle competition.

Charity?

Charity would not have thirty children fight without restraint for money, forbidding them from surrendering or withdrawing.

Safety measures?

There were none.

Rules prohibiting attacks on vital areas?

There were none of those either.

Every rule existed to make the competition more "real," casually throwing people and Pokémon into a cage called an arena. There were even so-called designated tips—

The man clenched his right fist until his knuckles turned white, yet he was powerless to change any of it. He even had to go along with it.

Because he, too, was a beneficiary. The constraints imposed by his family and career meant he could only resist hypocritically in his heart, shouting in his mind about sweeping away injustice and imagining his lofty ambition to change Orre.

Many of the entrepreneurs being fleeced here had the right to scorn all this.

He did not.

Orre.

A remote land at the edge of the Pokémon world, far from every other region—when would you finally see truly clear skies?

"Gulp!"

The man drained his red wine in one swallow, then quickly merged into the crowd and raised his index finger. "I am willing to donate fifty million!"

Clap clap clap clap—

The amounts had all been decided beforehand. Once he paid, the money would be returned after it was over, along with his own share of the charitable funds.

The money of the "wealthy gentry" would be returned in full; the money of the "common people" would be divided thirty-seventy.

Amid the applause, the troubled man looked up at the screens and quickly locked onto a somewhat familiar figure.

→

Hmm...

You entered too?

Then, after a week of enjoying the treatment reserved for official members, did you still possess the sincerity you once had?

The man left behind this revelry for Mareep and ranch owners, casually found a seat in the viewing area, and waited for the competition to begin.

—

Desert.

The competition had entered its countdown phase.

The two participating teams were brought to the entrance, where they were searched along with their bags. Any items capable of contacting the outside world were prohibited.

They then put on wristbands according to the rules and, at the organizer's arrangement, took turns introducing themselves, trading trash talk and making threats before the match began.

Baimu had no intention of being overly conspicuous. He said a few casual words and stepped down, but the others seemed determined to please the "audience" and did everything they could to show themselves off.

When he finished, Otsuka had even regretfully remarked that his introduction was too brief. If the audience did not remember him, it would be hard for him to receive tips.

Then.

Jian of the Hound Team took the microphone. With a sneer, he scrutinized everyone in the Quicksand Team and said something that left them utterly shocked and the audience extremely excited.

"One of you is quite capable. You actually came to hire me, asking me to take one of your teammates' legs."

"Ha, take a leg? Hahahahahaha! What a ridiculous joke!"

Jian laughed wildly. "Don't worry. Don't worry one bit! Every last one of you fifteen, I'll catch you slowly, break your arms and stomp your limbs apart. When you're crying and screaming for your mothers, I'll bite through your throats!"

His savage, twisted expression and undisguised killing intent drew cheers from those who loved watching trouble unfold.

The Quicksand Team members wore dark expressions. Having been provoked this far, how could any of them swallow such an insult?

No matter how wary they were inside, they could not possibly show it on their faces now.

"What a clumsy attempt to sow discord! Don't believe him, everyone!"

"That's right! How could he deal with all fifteen of us alone? He's just talking tough!"

"Is the Hound Team only good with their mouths? Barking nonstop, are you?"

The insults swiftly drew responses from the Hound Team.

"What the fuck did you say?"

"Say that again if you've got the guts! You son of a bitch!"

Seeing the trash-talk segment about to turn into a meaningless shouting match, the organizers immediately rushed out to stop them, leaving both sides to attack their opponents with their eyes.

Within the crowd, Baimu looked at Jian across from him. Jian stared straight back at him for a full six or seven seconds before sneering and shifting his gaze away.

Direct enough.

It seemed he was the one whose leg was supposed to be taken. But who had hired Jian?

Curiously, Baimu looked around, taking in every trace of shock, suspicion, panic, and furious indignation.

"So that's how it is..."

He rubbed his chin, gaining a rough understanding of the situation.

As the competition drew near, Otsuka began to panic and could not help saying, "Baimu, we..."

"Don't panic. You said it yourself—if you can't win, run." He patted Otsuka on the shoulder, signaling for him to relax.

If he had some strength to spare like during the entry assessment, Baimu would not mind helping the young man.

But if it truly came down to it, there was nothing he could do. Jian from the Hound Team had clearly set his sights on him. Even if Jian had said he would "treat everyone equally," who knew whether he was bluffing?

It was entirely possible that Jian had thrown out a smokescreen, only to come after him specifically.

He had to ensure his own safety first.

Baimu held a Poké Ball in his hand and silently watched the Quicksand Team members, assisted by staff one after another, put on blindfolds and enter container-like "cabins."

They could only remove the blindfolds after arriving at the location and hearing their wristbands sound. Taking them off early would be a violation.

No one would be foolish enough to do that now.

Next door, staff were similarly at work among the Hound Team.

When it was Otsuka's turn ahead of him, Baimu turned to glance next door and happened to meet Jian's gaze.

"Hey!"

Jian grinned viciously and made a throat-slitting gesture.

Baimu's expression did not change. He watched Jian and Otsuka enter different cabins, then, when a staff member came before him, suddenly turned around and smiled at Saruwatari behind him.

"Good luck."

"Ah? Yeah... good luck to you too." Saruwatari forced a smile in return.