Pokemon: Echoes of the dusk

The sun was already high when Shion's eyes shot open.

He blinked at the slant of golden light streaming through the window, then bolted upright with a yelp.

"I'm late!"

Bidoof rolled off the bed with a startled snort, hit the floor, and glared up at him in silent judgment.

Shion threw on his coat, grabbed his satchel, then snatched up his belt and clipped it on as he stumbled toward the door. His scarf trailed behind him like a half-forgotten thought.

"Kiba! Raku! Let's go!" he barked, nearly tripping over a stool on his way out.

He skidded down the stairwell of the inn, earning a confused grunt from the innkeeper, who was in the middle of sweeping.

Outside, the streets of Ravios were alive.

More than usual.

Far more.

Banners in gold and crimson lined every rooftop. Flags bearing the Ravelle Kingdom crest whipped in the morning wind. Crowds of people surged along the avenues, a mixture of locals, travelers, and visiting nobles.

Vendors lined every block, selling everything from battle gear to hot honeyed Pecha buns. Music played in the background flutes, drums, and the distant thrum of horns.

And above it all, towering against the skyline like a stone crown:

The Grand Coliseum.

It was enormous.

Wider than any building Shion had ever seen, its circular walls stood five stories tall and gleamed with marble and redstone. Arched windows circled the upper decks, and carved statues of legendary Pokémon loomed over each main gate.

The banners of Ravelle snapped from every tower. From this distance, Shion could even see the flames of the eternal torch that burned above the royal box.

He'd never seen anything like it.

His breath caught as he jogged closer, slipping through the crowd.

This is it. This is where it begins.

---

As he approached the coliseum's registration gate, he was stunned to find the line stretched halfway down the block.

Hundreds of trainers stood waiting, all with their Pokémon at their sides. Some chatted nervously. Others stood in total silence, eyes closed in focus. A few looked like mercenaries tall, armored, tattooed. Others were young nobles in polished outfits, surrounded by servants.

Shion froze.

He felt like a dirt-stained pebble among polished stones.

Kiba padded beside him and growled lightly, sensing his hesitation. Raku, from his perch on Shion's shoulder, gave a confident chirp and thumped his tail once.

Bidoof waddled up from behind, looked at the crowd, and muttered, "Oh yeah. You're doomed."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Shion grumbled.

Still, he forced himself forward and joined the back of the line.

As he waited, he couldn't help but look around and what he saw was eye-opening.

To his left, a woman with silver-blonde braids stood beside a Glaceon and a Frosmoth, her cloak marked with the Obelia Kingdom sigil a snowflake framed by wings.

To his right, a tall, tan man in flowing desert silks leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. He wore the deep red sash of the Aldara Sultanate, and a Flygon lounged behind him, sand trailing from its wings.

Shion swallowed.

People had come from everywhere.

He heard at least four languages in the crowd. Some spoke about gold. Others about glory. One group whispered about finding rare evolution stones offered to top finalists. A few spoke of "proving themselves worthy of the Crown's gaze."

Shion, meanwhile, was just hoping not to embarrass himself.

---

The registration gate inched forward slowly.

Eventually, he made it close enough to see the desk a long, stone counter staffed by clerks in Ravelle crimson. They checked licenses, recorded names, and directed participants toward a staging hall inside the Coliseum.

Shion nervously reached for his adventurer card as he approached.

The clerk looked up, eyes sharp but not unkind.

"Name?"

"Shion."

"Affiliation?"

"Independent. Silver-ranked adventurer. From Riverleaf."

The man tapped a few runes on a parchment grid, then stamped his card with a wax seal marked with the Royal Tournament Crest a roaring lion encircled by a wreath of swords and laurels.

"You're in. You'll be called tomorrow during the open bracket draw. Be early, bring all registered Pokémon, and wear your entry badge visibly."

He handed Shion a small bronze pin shaped like the crest.

"Next!"

Shion stepped aside, holding the pin in both hands like it might shatter.

He stared at it for a moment. Just a symbol. A token.

But somehow, it felt real.

More than ever.

"I made it," he whispered.

Kiba barked once in approval.

Raku hopped down and gave a proud little pose.

Bidoof tried to eat the badge.

Shion swatted him away.

---

As the crowd shifted and Shion stepped away from the line, he heard someone laughing off to the side. A loud, rolling kind of laugh.

He turned just in time to see a tall man with sharp, foxlike eyes and a flowing blue cloak leaning casually on the railing. His hair was tied in a rough topknot, and he wore twin blades on his back. A Zoroark crouched beside him, its claws twitching with anticipation.

"Can't believe the Kingdom opened it up to everyone this time," the man was saying to another. "Gonna make the bloodbath real colorful."

"Guess they want a show," someone else replied.

Shion turned back, nerves tightening.

He felt like an ember in a field of bonfires.

But he also felt something else.

He was here.

He'd walked this far. Survived corrupted Pokémon, collapsing mines, bandits, assassins, and angry guild staff.

He wasn't turning back now.

He looked up at the Grand Coliseum once more, the sun casting its crown of light atop the arena walls.

Tomorrow, the games would begin.

And Shion would be among them.

The training fields outside the eastern wall of Ravios were quieter than usual.

Not silent Ravios was never truly silent but calmer than the packed streets and tournament noise. Here, the wind rustled through the grass, the smell of earth and stone was sharp in the air, and distant battle cries drifted from other isolated trainers doing the same thing Shion was doing.

Preparing.

Getting ready to face the world.

Shion exhaled and stood at the center of a shallow valley slope. Kiba paced a tight circle at his side, tail swishing. Raku stood nearby, arms crossed, trying to look as focused as Kiba, but still too eager too green.

And then, with a low rumble, came the thunder of footsteps.

A flash of light, and Rune his towering Golurk landed with a crunch of gravel, cracking the earth beneath it.

Rune stood still, as it always did. Eyes glowing faintly beneath its ancient helmet. It waited for instruction.

Shion looked at all three of them.

"Alright," he said. "Tomorrow, the tournament begins. This isn't like a bandit ambush, or a corrupted Pokémon hiding in the woods. It's a battlefield… with rules. And a crowd."

He looked at Kiba, then Rune, and finally at Raku.

"You're not ready yet," he said gently to the Treecko. "But you're coming with us anyway. You'll learn. Watch. And maybe we'll need you, so stay sharp."

Raku didn't argue. Just gave a quiet nod.

Shion stepped back, pulled his sleeves up, and squared his shoulders.

"Let's begin."

---

The training started simple.

Kiba darted between Rune's slow, heavy strikes, his claws glowing with Accelerock as he zigzagged through the air. Rune responded with short bursts of Shadow Punch, smashing into stone dummies set up at the edge of the field.

Raku mimicked from the sideline, repeating Kiba's footwork. His movements were clumsy at first too loose, too fast but he corrected himself each time, eyes focused.

"Use the rhythm, Raku!" Shion called. "Don't rush the strike time it!"

Rune shifted to ranged attacks next. A Hyper Beam charged in its chest, blasting outward in a controlled arc. The recoil knocked it back slightly, dust lifting in a fiery plume.

Kiba countered by leaping high and landing with a Rock Slide, sending shards crashing toward a target.

Shion watched from a distance, arms crossed.

Sweat beaded on his brow, not from the heat but from thinking. Planning.

Kiba's speed is still our best weapon. Rune has raw strength, and enough size to force opponents into the open. If they throw long-range fighters at me, Rune can hold the line. But if they're fast… Kiba's gotta end it quickly.

Raku stumbled in a sprint and fell, rolling into the grass.

"Up again!" Shion called.

The Treecko groaned but stood, brushing dirt off his arms.

Then tried again.

And again.

Hours passed.

Rune eventually powered down and sat quietly like a stone sentinel. Kiba flopped onto his side, tongue out. Raku collapsed backward, limbs splayed.

Shion sat beside them, tossing a berry in his hand.

"I think we'll be alright," he muttered, half to himself.

Then looked up at the sky.

"But I've got a feeling the others… they'll be something else."

---

Meanwhile…

At the other end of Ravios, behind the polished marble walls of the Silver Flame Order, Ren stood alone in the center of the elite training arena.

It was empty, reserved. No audience. No clutter.

Just him.

And Lucario.

They moved as one.

Lucario dashed forward not a step wasted and struck a line of pressure dummies with a precise, Bone Rush spin. Ren followed with a slide-step, guiding the movement, one hand extended as Aura shimmered faintly at his fingertips.

The dummies shattered.

Ren's face was still. Focused. Calm.

Across the hall, Blaziken launched into a high leap, then spun mid-air with a crackling Blaze Kick, landing in a slide of flame. Fraxure followed with a series of savage Dragon Claw arcs against a reinforced target wall. Braviary soared overhead, diving in controlled drops before pulling up and circling again.

Commander Seris watched from a balcony above, arms folded.

Gallade stood beside her, unreadable as always.

"He's sharpened," Seris said quietly. "But still not at the edge he needs to be."

Gallade gave a nod. Just one.

Seris narrowed her eyes.

"Tomorrow will test more than just strength. Let's see if he remembers what it means to fight for something."

---

Back at the training field, dusk had begun to settle.

Shion leaned against Rune's giant shoulder as the Golurk quietly powered down into standby mode.

Raku was asleep across Kiba's back, both of them half-covered in leaves and grass from their sparring.

Bidoof, of course, had vanished mid-training and returned with a bag of half-eaten buns.

Shion chuckled.

The nerves were still there. Sitting in the back of his mind like coiled thread.

But he wasn't afraid anymore.

He was ready.

Tomorrow, the battles would begin.