--- Pryce's POV – Mahogany Town, Johto---
Pryce, the Indigo Champion hunched in his armchair in his living room like a frostbitten statue.
The TV blared, tuned to Kanto's post-League press conference, where Gladion Vortex—Kanto's new Junior Champion—stood swarmed by reporters, his smug grin practically leaping through the screen.
Pryce's gnarled fingers tightened around his cane, his icy blue eyes narrowing as the boy's voice filled the room.
A reporter thrust a microphone forward. "Gladion, how do you feel after winning the cup? Did you know you'd take it all?"
Gladion leaned back, smirking like he'd invented victory itself. "Feel? I feel like a king—like Grandpa Maren's up there fist-bumping Arceus, saying, 'That's my boy!' Did I know I'd win? Pfft—of course! I'm a Vortex, born with greatness in my blood. The cup was basically begging me to take it home—had my name etched on it before the finals even started!"
Pryce's lip curled, a low growl rumbling in his throat. 'Arrogant little snot.'
The kid's bravado grated him —typical Kanto swagger, all flash and no substance.
Another reporter piped up, "You've got five to six years to challenge the Champion or an Elite Four member in Kanto. Who's your target, and when?"
Gladion's smirk widened, his tone dripping with mockery. "Oh, I'm gunning for Pryce—the so-called 'Champion.' Five years from now, I'll stroll in and mop the floor with him. Weakest of the lot, hands down! I mean, who picks Ice-types as their specialty? They've got more weaknesses than a Magikarp in a desert—Fire, Fighting, Steel—just sneeze on 'em, and they're toast! Guy's practically begging me to take his title!"
The reporters chuckled, but Pryce's face darkened, his cane tapping the floor like a metronome of rage. 'Kanto brat.' His thoughts seethed, cold and sharp as a Glalie's bite.
'This Vortex punk thinks he can mock me? Me—a Johto-born legend who crushed their kind in the wars? Ice has weaknesses, sure, but it's discipline, precision—something these flashy Kantonian upstarts wouldn't understand. Maren's grandson or not, he's a spoiled whelp dreaming too big. Five years? I'll bury him in a blizzard so deep he'll wish he'd stuck to battling Pidgeys.' His racism flared—Kanto's golden children always strutted like they owned the world, oblivious to Johto's grit.
'Let him come. I'll freeze that smirk off his face.'
------ Erza and Ben's POV –------
In the cozy hotel room, Erza and Ben Vortex sat glued to the TV, the press conference streaming live. Erza's fiery hair framed a proud smile, while Ben dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, already sniffling.
Gladion's voice crackled through, brash and bold, as a reporter asked, "After beating Pryce, do you aim to become Champion or join the Elite Four?"
Of course, one could not just become a champion or elite four member by just defeating someone, while strength was important, each of them had a lot of responsibilities something only experience can help them with.
While winning against them would help someone becomes a champion or elite four member but it was also take years of some mentorship and study to actually qualify to become such a dignified member of the league.
Gladion waved a hand dismissively, leaning into the mic with a grin. "Nah, that's too much of a drag—paperwork, meetings, blah. I'd rather nap on a Snorlax! No, I've got bigger plans—gonna turn our minor gym into a major one, a real Vortex powerhouse! Grandpa Maren dreamed of it—a place where young trainers can stumble in, all wide-eyed and clueless, and leave as champs! I'll sweat, I'll grind, I'll build it brick by brick—pushing kids to dig deep, find their spark, and shine like I do! It's hard work, sure, but I'm a Vortex—and Vortexes don't back down from a challenge, We are the challenge!"
His voice cracked with passion, a touch cringe-worthy—Erza winced at the dramatics—but the raw emotion hit hard.
Ben sobbed outright, clutching Alakazam's spoon as the Psi Pokémon patted his head. "Oh, Erza, listen to him!" Ben wailed, tears streaming. "Our little Glady's all grown up—carrying dad's dream like a torch! I'm so proud I could burst—wahhh!"
Erza's eyes softened, her smile widening as she squeezed his shoulder. "He's got dad's fire, alright—stubborn as a Tauros and twice as loud. That gym's gonna be something special—I can feel it. Our boy's not just winning battles; he's building a legacy." She chuckled, adding, "Even if that speech was cheesier than a Miltank's dairy farm!"
Another reporter jumped in. "Your gym's type—what'll it be? You're a generalist, so…?"
Gladion smirked mysteriously. "That's a surprise—keep guessing, folks! I'll unveil it when the time's right, and it'll blow your minds!" The TV cut to cheers, and Ben sniffled, "A surprise type? Oh, he's got me on pins and needles!"
--- Giovanni's POV – Team Rocket Hideout--
Deep in the shadowed recesses of his hideout, Giovanni lounged in a leather chair, Persian purring at his feet as the press conference flickered on a wall-mounted screen. Gladion's smug face dominated the frame, reporters buzzing like Beedrill. One asked, "Your final Pokémon—who was it?"
Gladion grinned, puffing out his chest. "That was Annihilape—a Fighting-Ghost type, the final evolution of Primeape from Mankey. Some of you smart cookies guessed it, and yeah, it's a beast. My secret weapon!"
A cheeky reporter pressed, "How'd you evolve it? Spill the beans!" The rightful source is novelꞁire.net
Gladion laughed, waving a hand. "Trade secret, pal! Let's just say it's trickier than teaching a Slowpoke to tap-dance—took some serious grit and a lot of yelling. Good luck figuring it out!" He winked, the crowd chuckling as he dodged the question with grace.
Giovanni's eyes narrowed, his fingers steepling as Persian's tail flicked.'*No answers—just bravado.' Annihilape's power had been undeniable—a dual-type enigma radiating elite potential. 'That evolution's a goldmine—if I could crack it, Team Rocket'd have an army of those raging ghosts since Mankey's are pretty common in Kanto.'
But Gladion's secrecy irked him—'trade secret, my foot.' He leaned forward, voice low and edged with menace. "Keep a close eye on Gladion Vortex," he ordered his shadowed lieutenants. "Track his moves, his training—find out how he forged that Annihilape. But don't touch him—not yet. He's under too many eyes—Elite Four, Champions, that meddling Oak. We act quiet, subtle—no attention until the time's ripe."
A grunt nodded, scribbling notes. "Understood, boss. We'll shadow him—discreetly."
Giovanni's lips curled faintly, a predator's smile. "Good. Maren's grandson's got secrets—and I'll have them, one way or another."
---Author Notes------
Thankyou TRAINZ TURTLES, Jacob Mooe and Keada for supporting me!
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