Pokémon battles.
They were a profoundly complex discipline.
Baimu had beaten plenty of opponents by gathering intelligence, exploiting gaps in what each side knew, and relying on superior strength. But no strategy was unbeatable, and no Trainer or Pokémon won forever.
Against Flygon, Dragapult's ideal approach was to run circles around it with its excellent offenses and blistering speed.
Who would have thought this thing was even more outrageous than Shelgon? It was an all-rounder!
A monster in every stat!
It was fast—Quick Attack made it faster still, and its reactions were sharp. Its offense was fierce—Sandstorm and Sand Tomb could trap an opponent on every side, while Earthquake and Draco Meteor hit hard. Its defense was formidable—it had taken two Phantom Force hits from a Dragapult boosted by Dragon Dance and still counterattacked almost immediately.
Any other Pokémon would have been stunned by that last blow to the head, if not knocked out. What other Pokémon would have immediately twisted around and caught Dragapult with its tail?
Dragapult hadn't even had a chance to flee!
Baimu had wondered whether he was overestimating Drake's battle experience and his Pokémon's strength. If Drake really was that strong, Baimu's chances of winning were slim.
But the outcome told him he hadn't overestimated Drake at all. The man really was that formidable.
And Dragapult went down.
Was that fair?
Baimu's mouth twitched. Now he understood how stifled his opponents at the Ever Grande Conference must have felt facing him.
Still, Socially Awkward Dragon's sacrifice had not been in vain.
On the field.
Drake seemed about to say something when Flygon's body suddenly stiffened. Flames erupted from nowhere and engulfed it, drawing excited cries from the surrounding Draconids.
"A Burn!"
"Will-O-Wisp worked!"
This was their chance!
Baimu hurriedly recalled the unconscious Dragapult. The two