Chapter 4 Eyes wide open

  The second morning back at academy the sun rose filling the courtyard with a golden hue. Wendel practically flew down the stone corridor, scarf flapping at his chest, breath misting in the hallway as he rounded the corner toward Lecture Hall Sixteen.

  Evolutionary biology and theory.

  The classroom was wide and warm, with tiered seating and crystalline screens floating above the chalkboard, projecting radiant diagrams of Pokémon anatomy and shifting evolutionary trees. At the center, standing ramrod straight with an aura of quiet precision, was Professor Laramée—a middle-aged woman with ash-blonde hair bound in a knot, wearing a tailored violet coat and polished silver glasses.

  The moment she began speaking, Wendel was captivated.

  "Most Pokémon evolve linearly—Pidgey to Pidgeotto to Pidgeot or Machop to Machoke to Machamp,” she said, gesturing to a spiraling holographic model of standard evolutionary lines.

  "But” she continued, tapping her fingers, “there exist species whose evolutions are entirely stimulus-based, where external variables shape not only form, but personality, behavior, elemental alignment, and even mental acuity."

  Images flickered: an Eevee standing under the moon’s glow, another basking in sunlight, and a third standing atop a glacier, cold wind whipping its fur. Then Tyrogue evolving into three different fighters depending on stat ratios. A Gloom splitting into Vileplume or Bellossom. A Karrablast and Shelmet exchanging shells.

  Wendel sat forward, notebook forgotten. The possibilities. The sheer complexity. It felt like a window had opened.

  “This is more than transformation,” Professor Laramée said softly. “It is evolution guided by life.”

  Beside him, Cecilia tapped her temple. “This… is boring.”

  Wendel whispered back, “No, this is awesome.”

  Meanwhile…

  Halfway around the world an old lab was quiet that evening, the only sounds were the low hum of machines and the soft ticking of a wall clock above the bookshelves.

  Professor Samuel Oak sat at his desk, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a thick research paper in the other, his glasses perched low on his nose. The light was warm, casting shadows across years of scrawled notes, faded Polaroids, and broken Poké Balls that had long since given out.

  The screen on the far wall blinked to life, cutting through the silence with a soft chime.

  Incoming Call – RED

  Oak blinked. He hadn’t seen that name flash on the screen in—years.

  He set down his cup slowly and tapped the console.

  Red’s face appeared on the holoscreen, sharp as ever despite the years, though his cap was tugged lower than usual, his expression unreadable as always.

  “Well, well,” Oak said, leaning forward with a soft smile. “Now there’s a sight I haven’t seen in far too long. To what do I owe the honor?”

  Red’s voice came, calm and even. “Didn’t have a reason to call. Until now.”

  Oak folded his hands. “Go on.”

  “I found someone,” Red said.

  Oak stared. “Really?”

  Red nodded once. “Lucario was the one who made the call. He sensed something. We tested the boy—and his Gardevoir, and we both agreed.”

  Oak straightened slightly. “Details my boy.”

  Red’s lips twitched—just barely. “His name’s Wendel Ironwood. He’s in Kalos. Enrolled in a private academy near Couriway town. He’s… not from much. Parents are good people but struggling. It looks like most of his training has been self-taught.”

  “And yet he passed Lucario’s test?”

  Red’s eyes narrowed slightly. “His Gardevoir dodged an attack from her blind spot. He didn't tell her where the hit was coming from. Didn’t have to. They were already linked.”

  Oak’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re saying…?”

  Red nodded. “I think the two of them—at fourteen years old—have figured out how to Mind-Meld.”

  There was a long pause.

  Oak sat back, exhaling slowly. “That’s... incredible. There are researchers who’ve devoted decades to understanding the trainer–Pokémon bond, and this boy just—did it?”

  “But they used it like it was instinct.” Red said quietly

  Oak was silent, absorbing this.

  “You sure about this?” he finally asked. “About giving him Lucario’s child?”

  Red nodded once. “Lucario was. I trust him.”

  Oak chuckled softly, rubbing his jaw. “You always did.”

  There was a brief pause as Red looked away, then back.

  “I’ve heard whispers,” he said, voice lower now. “Here in Kalos, about Team Rocket.”

  Oak’s expression darkened. “I’ve heard the same. Something’s building out there. I can feel it.”

  Red nodded. “Wendel’s already run into them once. He and that Gardevoir both came out of it alive. Barely.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Already?” Oak gasped

  “They’ll come for him again. I’m sure of it.”

  Oak looked off into the distance, thoughtful now. “I’ll pull his file. Do some digging.”

  He looked back to Red, voice firmer now.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  Red reached up and adjusted the brim of his cap. “He’s one to watch, Professor. You’ll see.”

  The screen flickered as Red ended the call without another word.

  Professor Oak sat in silence for a long moment. Then he slowly turned in his chair, opened his terminal, and began typing in a name.

  Ironwood, Wendel. Kalos.

  Battle Strategy

  The shift to Battle Strategy couldn’t have been more abrupt. Professor Halden stood in the middle of the domed sparring arena, a whistle slung around his neck and a clipboard under one arm. “Alright, class—second day or not, let’s get started.”

  The arena hummed with energy as Wendel observed from the back.

  Two students faced off at center stage—a Talonflame and a Jolteon. Sparks and flames danced around the Pokémon, but it was the precision, the fluidity, the confidence of the trainers that drew Wendel’s attention immediately.

  This… this is nothing like Sixth Wing. His fingers flexed over his notebook. They’re operating on a different level he thought.

  The Talonflame dipped low, nearly skimming the arena floor, drawing the Jolteon in. In one fluid motion, it looped upward, then twisted in a barrel roll midair, wings trailing embers, and executed a Flame Charge mid-turn that slammed into Jolteon while simultaneously building momentum for its next attack.

  Wait—did it just combine positional control with attack momentum? Wendel thought. I’ve never seen anyone execute two layers of strategy in a single move like that. In Sixth Wing, most students barely string two attacks without leaving themselves open.

  Before Jolteon could recover, the Talonflame executed a sudden aerial pivot—using the recoil of Flame Charge to launch itself sideways—and released a fiery U-turn. Sparks licked the arena walls as the Pokémon darted back toward its trainer, drawing the opponent closer in a bait-and-trap maneuver. Wendel’s pen tapped furiously against the edge of his notebook.

  Trap and burst, lure and punish… That’s insane. The level of spatial awareness, timing, and multi-step planning…

  The Jolteon, launched a counterattack—a Thunderbolt aimed to intercept Talonflame mid-spin. But the Talonflame responded with a sudden Acrobatics maneuver, flipping over the bolt, wings glowing bright with the momentum-boosted attack, and executed a Sky Attack with pinpoint precision. Sparks collided with flames, filling the dome with a crackling explosion of light and heat.

  Wendel’s eyes widened. Multi-layered evasion and immediate retaliation… the speed of the battle alone is frightening. In Sixth Wing, these students would have been the prodigies of the top tier—but here. Everyone’s operating at this level?

  The Talonflame didn’t pause. It twisted in the air, feathers ruffling as it executed a split maneuver: one wing flicked a small ember cloud toward Jolteon to obscure vision, while the other guided a precise aerial dive, slamming into Jolteon’s flank as it tried to adjust. A sudden Brave Bird combo followed—feathered strikes timed perfectly with Jolteon’s missteps, each one punctuated by subtle micro-adjustments in trajectory to exploit even the tiniest opening.

  It’s… orchestrating a ballet of attack and distraction while anticipating Jolteon’s every move, Wendel whispered to himself. This is…Awesome.

  As the dust settled and the crowd murmured in awe, Wendel felt a thrill run through him—and a twinge of humility. If I stepped in now, I’d have to think four moves ahead. And even then… I could get caught off guard. This is what I’m up against. I need to expand, sharpen, and anticipate like never before.

  He closed his notebook slowly, taking a deep breath. This year… I can’t coast. I can’t rely on instinct alone.

  Students stirred nervously as their names were called. Wendel leaned on the back wall, still lost in thought, when Halden’s voice cut through the air:

  “Wendel Ironwood. Front and center. You’ll be going against... Leif and his Lickitung.”

  Wendel blinked. “Wait, what?”

  A heavyset boy stepped forward, grinning as he tossed out a Poké Ball. “Let’s go, Tank!”

  A flash of red light and a massive Lickitung hit the ground with a solid thud, slapping its tail and swinging its ridiculous tongue side to side.

  Wendel smirked. “Normal type?” He unclipped a Poké Ball from his belt and stepped into the arena. “Let’s do this, Rhys.”

  A Riolu emerged, standing proud and silent. His aura sensors twitched as he scanned the room—eyes flicking to the teacher, then his opponent.

  Professor Halden’s brow lifted. “That’s new.”

  “Fighting’s types got the advantage,” Wendel said with a small grin. “Let’s use it.”

  A large pink Pokémon appeared opposite him, tongue already dragging across the ground with a squelching noise.

  “I call him Tank,” Leif said proudly.

  Wendel gave a little smirk. “We’ll see how tough he is.”

  Halden raised his hand. “Begin.”

  Lickitung surged forward, deceptively fast for its bulk.

  “Rhys, dodge right!”

  WHAP!

  Lickitung’s tongue slammed him across the side, knocking him into the dirt with a dull thud.

  “Rhys!” Wendel shouted, his gut twisting. Rhys rolled with the hit and scrambled upright, panting, his legs stiff.

  “He’s paralyzed already,” Halden muttered. “Tough break.”

  Across the field, Lickitung charged again.

  Wendel clenched his fist. “dodge, now”

  Rhys’s body lurched into action, legs resisting him. He dropped to one knee. And a heavy body slam crashed into Rhys and sent him flying.

  Rhys! Shouted Wendel but the little blue pup was already standing back up.

  “Wait, let him come to you.”

  Lickitung lowered his head and charged.

  Headbutt.

  Rhys, drop low!

  Low kick, now!

  Lickitung’s momentum betrayed it.

  Its short legs flew skyward—and it crashed hard to the ground with a wheezing oof!

  “Go! Rock Smash!”

  Rhys launched forward, paw aimed for Lickitung’s flank—but the timing was off. Lickitung twisted, letting the attack glance harmlessly across its side, barely slowing down.

  Wendel’s chest tightened as he saw the opening vanish. The fight had slipped from their control.

  Lickitung’s tongue lashed forward like a snapping whip, striking Rhys and throwing him off balance. The Riolu stumbled, muscles straining to stay upright.

  “Rhys! Endure!” Wendel shouted.

  Rhys braced himself before taking the brunt of Lickitung’s Iron Tail head-on.

  The force slammed him into the arena floor, his aura flickering and fur ruffling, but Endure held him upright just long enough. He teetered, barely conscious.

  Professor Halden’s whistle pierced the tension. “That’s enough, match over.”

  Wendel knelt beside Rhys, pulling a Cheri Berry from his pouch. “Here, this will help with the paralysis.” Rhys nibbled at it, tail flicking as the glow in his muscles began to fade. Wendel followed with a small potion he’d made himself, helping him regain strength.

  Rhys shook himself off, tail flicking, eyes brightening. Wendel patted his head gently. “Good job, buddy. Tough fight, but you made it through.”

  He stood, fists clenched, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Third Wing… this is what it’s like. I’ll need to be sharper than ever.

  “Battles are rarely straightforward,” Halden continued, pacing slightly. “Type advantages matter, yes—but strategy, timing, and the ability to adapt mid-fight will determine success more often than raw strength alone.”

  Professor Halden’s hand fell to a lever beside the arena. With a mechanical hiss, water began rushing across the floor, rising quickly until the entire battlefield was two feet deep. Splashes echoed as the students’ eyes widened.

  “Now,” Halden called, pacing along the edge, “adapt. You’ll need more than brute strength here. Observe, react, and exploit.”

  Two figures stepped onto the flooded field. A massive Onix scraped along the waterlogged stone, its segmented body gleaming under the hall lights. Opposite it, a Kilowattrel hovered just above the surface, feathers glinting, electric energy crackling faintly from its wings.

  The students leaned forward, murmuring. Wendel’s chest tightened with anticipation. His fists clenched at his sides, heart thudding in rhythm with the water sloshing under Onix’s weight.

  This… this is completely different, he thought. Sixth Wing was tough, but this—

  He could already see Kilowattrel’s wings adjust midair, calculating how to use the water to its advantage. Onix shifted, rumbling, leveraging its mass to create waves, trying to knock its opponent from the sky.

  A grin tugged at his lips, barely controlled. I can feel it. This year—this wing—it’s going to be a challenge. And I can’t wait.