| Rio POV |
Roxanne stares at the ruins of the battlefield—at the craters, the shattered tiles, the echoes of cursed energy still humming in the walls. Her hand trembles as she reaches for her final Poké Ball.
She hesitates.
Then, in one slow breath, she looks up.
"...Fine," she whispers. "You want a real fight?"
She lifts the ball—and it pulses.
The symbol etched across it glows.
"Then face my ace—at her strongest."
The energy spikes.
My ears twitch. Something old and dangerous starts stirring in the air.
May stands up in the bleachers. Combusken hides behind the merch stand. Ralts grips the bench with both hands, eyes wide.
I face off against the giant green beast, a full on totem Tyranitar. I knew that reward was too good for a fight so easy...
''You good to go?'' I turn back towards May as she looks on in worry, I hesitate for but a moment, as one should when facing a force of nature.
''Might be tough... But I'd win.''
"Alright," Roxxane suddenly intervenes, her voice steady—but her eyes are trembling. "Let's see if you really can."
I blink. Huh?
She takes a deep breath… and slowly raises her hand.
No.
There's a gleam.
No.
A delicate silver bracelet glints in the light, studded with a pulsing emerald gem. The crowd collectively holds its breath.
"Roxanne, no."
She smiles sweetly, and that's when I know I've made a mistake.
"If you can get some cursed form power up, then I should be able to mega evolve my mons too.."
She clutches the keystone. It pulses once—twice—and the air gets thick, like we're underwater and someone just dropped a toaster in.
Her Tyranitar roars as the Mega energy floods its body. Its spikes grow longer, sharper—ridiculously so. Its already massive form doubles in size, because of course it does. The ground cracks beneath its weight. The lighting dims. A sandstorm kicks up inside the building.
It locks eyes with me.
I feel the shift.
This isn't a fight anymore.
This is a raid boss battle.
I raise a paw.
It raises a mountain.
"...Haha," I squeak, voice cracking just a little.
"I'm in danger."
So I punch it in the face.
The moment Mega Tyranitar lets out a roar, soaking in her monstrous new power, I charge forward and leap—fist-first. Cursed energy wraps around my paw like a spiraling blade as I throw a Mach punch straight at her jaw.
There's a sharp crack as the strike lands—not that it does much, but hey, it shuts her up for half a second.
That's all I need.
Before the shockwave has even finished rippling, I twist midair, hit the ground running, and vanish behind her left leg. I'm small. She's not. That's my advantage. She turns like a collapsing building—slow, heavy, loud.
Too slow.
I dart up her back like a yellow squirrel on way too much caffeine, cursed energy pooling into my feet with every step. She tries to swat me, but her own spikes get in the way.
"Come on, come on, where's the weak point—"
She bucks, nearly throws me off.
"I swear, if you have a rage phase—"
She slams her tail down.
I just dodge, rolling through a crater's cracks and skidding to a stop near her heel, dirt and dust kicking up around me.
I raise my arms again, halfway between a stance and a shrug.
"Ugh, take it easy, Godzilla—no need to throw a tantrum."
She roars in response, pure indignation and murder in stereo. Then she stomps.
Hard.
The whole arena quakes—and I swear I feel my soul rattle. It's like getting hit in the guts by twenty bass-boosted speakers, all screaming DOOM in unison. The walls groan. The lights flicker. The air tastes like static and regret.
I stumble, ears ringing, but I don't fall.
Not yet. But soon if I don't figure something out...
Okay. New plan.
Because clearly, punching Godzilla in the shins and hoping for the best isn't gonna cut it.
She's too big to take head-on. Too heavy to budge. And with that Mega boost, every part of her body is now legally classified as a weapon of mass destruction.
I need speed. Angles. Openings.
I scan her—her tail's overused, slamming like a wrecking ball. Her right leg has a slight hitch when she turns. Vision's not the best; those spikes block her sides. She's relying on brute force.
Perfect.
I just need to not die for thirty more seconds.
I suck in a breath, flex my paws, and push cursed energy through my limbs.
Circle around. Bait a stomp. Lure her into the craters she already made. Use the arena against her.
I dart through the arena—what was once a clean, flat plateau now twisted into a crater-riddled jungle of rock and dirt. Every smashed tile, every upturned slab becomes a hiding spot, a blind angle, a lifeline.
She lunges.
I dive.
Her tail splits a pillar of stone I was just behind, dust and debris raining like confetti.
I don't stop.
Can't stop.
Every second I'm alive is a victory.
I duck under her swipe, spring off a broken column, and vault over a jagged ridge. I'm running a maze she built with her own rage.
And the best part?
She's too angry to realize it.
She's stomping through the ruins like she owns the place—but she's leaving openings. Little ones. Slips in rhythm. The fury's making her sloppy.
I just need one clean shot.
One opening.
Just one—
She roars, slamming down both fists, and the ground splits again, rubble blasting outward like a shotgun.
I'm flung back, skidding hard across the floor.
Everything hurts.
But I'm smiling.
Because I saw it.
She overextended.
Right leg. Off-balance. Her weight's shifted too far forward.
There's my opening.
Now it's my turn.
I clap my paws together—right on one of the many cursed-charged rocks I'd left scattered around the arena like landmines for the Switcheroo Express™.
Flash.
I'm gone.
Flash.
I'm behind her.
No hesitation. I slash low, aiming for the tendons with a vicious Dismantle. Her leg buckles just as I launch upward, my cursed-infused legs kicking off her scales and propelling me toward the back of her head.
She barely has time to register Roxanne's scream—
"Behind you!"
Too late.
My arm pulls back, red and black cursed energy coiling around it like a serpent.
Then it strikes.
CRACK.
My fist slams into the base of her skull with a thunderclap, the cursed force detonating on impact. The shockwave ripples out, rattling the broken arena. Dust kicks up in a wave.
And Tyranitar stumbles.
She stumbles.
But she doesn't fall. That would have been too easy.
Instead—she growls.
Low, guttural. Like a mountain waking up pissed off.
Before I can kick off again, her tail whips up—faster than it has any right to be—and slams into my side like a freight train made of granite.
My vision snaps. Air leaves my lungs in a choked wheeze as I'm launched like a ragdoll across the battlefield.
I skip across the floor once, bounce twice, and roll for a bit—then slam into a crater wall, cracking it on impact.
Everything rings. My limbs won't move right. My ribs feel like they're having a heated debate about quitting.
I cough. Something wet comes up.
Okay.
Yeah.
Mistakes were made.
From across the arena, she roars again—shaking the rubble loose—and starts stomping toward me, each step shaking the earth.
I groan, roll over, and spit out a tooth.
"...Cool," I mutter, barely standing. "That's... that's fair."
My only answer is a low growl, as if she was mocking me.
Mocking... Me?
I feel my cursed energy shift, a fire igniting deep inside me as I meet her leer with a glare.
''Divine flame...''
I feel something snap into place. The ache dulls. The pain doesn't vanish—but it sharpens me. Focuses me.
My cursed energy shifts—no, it erupts. A fire lights in my chest, searing and sacred, like a heartbeat forged in divine wrath.
I meet her leer with a glare, blood dripping from my chin but my stance steady.
Golden embers crackle around my paws, crawling up my arms in sacred arcs. The air hums—high, tense, hungry.
Mega Tyranitar halts.
Even she feels it.
I drag a paw across the ground, carving a molten line of cursed energy as my aura surges to life, blazing bright enough to burn away the sandstorm. I push myself up as the flames intensify around me—rising, twisting, becoming something more than fire.
[Cursed Technique Unlocked: Divine flame]
A cursed fire that incinerates both flesh and soul. These divine flames erase existence itself—leaving nothing behind, not even a curse's echo.
(Burn Baby Burn)
"Fuga…"
The word slips from my lips like a prayer—or a sentence.
I extend both paws forward. The cursed flames spiral together, forming a jagged, radiant arrowhead, dripping molten light and thrumming like a war drum.
"Divine Furnace."
The arrow glows brighter, brighter—until it doesn't glow at all.
It consumes light.
The sand melts into glass beneath me. Roxanne shields her eyes.
Mega Tyranitar's pupils shrink.
I release.
The arrow screams through the air like a meteor in reverse, dragging a burning tail across the sky—aimed straight for the titan's chest.
The Divine Furnace arrow launches like the wrath of an angry god.
Tyranitar moves.
No hesitation. No fear.
Just instinct.
She plants her massive feet, roars so hard the walls crack—and opens her jaws wide.
Light condenses at her throat. Raw, golden, nuclear light.
"She's charging Hyper Beam!" May yells.
I grit my teeth and push more cursed energy into the arrow, my paws trembling from the strain. I watch as Tyranitar fires.
A beam of annihilation crashes into my arrow mid-air.
The two forces clash—divine heat against apocalyptic light.
The entire arena goes white.
A shockwave blasts outward, sending debris flying, knocking Ralts off the bench, flattening the sandstorm in an instant. Glass shatters. Somewhere in the building, a car alarm goes off.
I hold steady. My arrow screams against the Hyper Beam, inching forward like it's dragging the heavens behind it.
But the Tyranitar doesn't budge either.
She's fighting it.
For one long, thunderous second—we're equals.
Then her knees buckle.
She groans, exhausted, body steaming. The beam stutters.
The Divine Furnace arrow breaks through.
It slams into her chest like a comet, and everything disappears in an explosion of light and flame.
Word Count: 1757
Called it! Knew it wouldn't be that easy!
MC: you're the author...
Oh right.