Venusaur let out a deep, rumbling growl before slamming both of its forefeet into the ground. Instantly, thick emerald vines erupted from beneath the earth, spreading outward in a chaotic surge, covering hundreds of meters in every direction.
These vines were both weapons and shields. Resistant to the flames of fire-type Pokemon, they withstood the scorching heat long enough to lash out aggressively, striking with relentless force. The battlefield turned into a writhing forest of green, ensnaring and overwhelming everything in its path.
Fire-type Pokemon that relied on close combat found themselves in the worst situation. A Quilava, spinning into a Flame Wheel, rolled straight into the tangle of vines. Though the flames initially burned away the tendrils, more rushed in, wrapping around it until it was completely restrained. Pignite, charging forward with Flare Blitz, met the same fate. The moment it crashed into the vines, they coiled tightly around its body, leaving it trapped and helpless. If this were a feast, it looked ready to be served as a roasted pig.
In just over ten seconds, more than thirty fire-type Pokemon had been completely neutralized. Some were thrashed unconscious by Vine Whip, while others were sealed within a makeshift prison of vines, unable to move an inch. The battlefield was a mess of fallen Pokemon and defeated trainers, the contrast stark against the blazing embers still flickering around the arena.
The sight left the crowd stunned.
It was even worse than the last time they had fought against John's Gyarados.
Back then, they had at least convinced themselves that John's shiny Gyarados was an anomaly, possibly obtained through sheer luck. But now? This wasn't some rare, rage-fueled sea beast overpowering them. This was a Venusaur—a Pokemon they had all underestimated—and it had singlehandedly wiped them out.
For the last month, they had focused on training their own Pokemon, convinced they could bridge the gap. Yet, standing here now, watching their Pokemon fall like dominoes, the bitter truth was undeniable: the gap had only grown wider.
A chilling realization set in—were they truly inferior to John when it came to raising Pokemon?
But he was just a junior breeder!
Many trainers looked at their fallen Pokemon and at the towering Venusaur, their confidence crumbling. They had considered themselves competent breeders, but witnessing such overwhelming dominance left their pride in shambles.
Azure, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but curse under his breath.
"This guy is a freak."
Now, he finally understood why Scarlett had been so fixated on John. The speed at which this guy trained his Pokemon was simply ridiculous.
Azure had personally seen the Totem Bulbasaur before it had evolved. He knew how strong it had been from the start. It made sense for a Totem Bulbasaur to stand its ground against fire-types. It was built to be tougher than the average Pokemon.
But a 1v2? Even for a Totem Pokemon, that was pushing it. And yet, John had made it happen with seemingly effortless strategy.
A 1v30? Now that was just absurd.
Azure wasn't sure what was more shocking—the incompetence of these so-called breeders or John's insane ability to bring out the absolute best in his Pokemon.
No, it was definitely John.
That guy was no longer just a talented trainer. He was a monster.
"The trainers whose Pokemon can no longer battle are eliminated. Please recall your Pokemon and return to camp immediately," Azure announced. His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, catching a few trainers who were already reaching for additional Pokeballs. "That includes sending out more Pokemon. This match is over."
Hearing his reminder, the eliminated trainers clenched their fists in frustration. As much as they wanted to fight back, they knew the rules. Begrudgingly, they recalled their Pokemon and trudged back to camp, their heads hung low in defeat.
John, still perched on Venusaur's back, smirked. He had been hoping they would send out another round of Pokemon so Venusaur could rack up even more experience.
After a month of dedicated training, his Totem Venusaur had reached LV 53—catching up fast to his main team. Fighting opponents who barely scraped past LV 30, many of whom hadn't even reached their final evolutions, was nothing more than a formality at this point.
If he had to use more than a single attack, he'd consider it a loss.
So, naturally, he had ordered Venusaur to unleash Frenzy Plant.
In the games, Frenzy Plant was the strongest grass-type move, boasting a ridiculous 150 power. It was so strong that it required the user to rest for a turn afterward. But in reality, for a LV 53 Totem Venusaur against a squad of weak, unevolved fire-types?
It wasn't just strong.
It was total annihilation.
"Alright, Venusaur, let's go find more trainers." John patted his partner's head, and the massive Pokemon let out a low growl of acknowledgment. Together, they set off to continue their ruthless sweep of the competition.
Meanwhile, in the shadows, a few trainers who had opted not to participate in the ambush stood watching, their expressions unreadable.
Ricardo and Logan were among them.
The atmosphere between the two was heavy.
As John's classmates and upperclassmen, they had deliberately avoided joining the group that had tried to take him down. Not because they had any particular loyalty to him, but because they had known from the start that it was a suicide mission. Why throw themselves into a battle they couldn't win?
That decision had saved them from embarrassment—but it hadn't spared them from shock.
John hadn't just won.
He had crushed them with a single attack.
The sheer difference in strength left a bitter taste in their mouths.
"We should just stay out of his way for now," Logan muttered. "Since we go to the same school, he won't target us immediately. As long as we lay low, we can make it into the quarterfinals without any problems."
Ricardo said nothing, his hands clenched inside his sleeves.
Even Lucario, normally eager to battle, remained unnervingly silent beside him.
Ricardo couldn't help but compare himself to John. For the longest time, he had viewed him as a rival—someone to measure himself against. But now? He wasn't even in the same league.
His pride had told him that his Lucario could stand up to John's Venusaur.
But now he realized the truth: his Lucario wasn't even the right comparison.
John's Venusaur had torn through over thirty trainers without breaking a sweat. It wasn't about how his Lucario stacked up against it.
It was about how his Lucario—his own starter, his own pride—wasn't even close to being on the same level as John's Pokemon.
He had spent half a year training Lucario.
John had spent one month training Venusaur.
So what the hell had he been doing all this time?