Chapter 29: The Charity Tournament

Silbe City.

A certain resplendent grand hall.

Dapper gentlemen and noble ladies came and went, holding drinks and chatting in soft voices.

Pokémon adorned with jewels on their fur stood proud, showing off their most beautiful side to those around them.

Enormous screens hung throughout the hall, displaying all manner of scenes from the desert, with crowds of people surging in each.

A man who looked like an MC stood at the very center, holding a microphone and smiling:

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tournament is about to begin. Please welcome our distinguished Mayor of Silbe City, Mr. Ejin!"

The gentlemen and noble ladies applauded warmly.

On the second floor of the hall, a short old man with frost-white temples, leaning on a short staff, a broad and kind smile on his face, accompanied by a Slowking, slowly made his way down to the first floor.

The MC jogged over with a grin, holding the microphone just below Ejin's mouth.

Ejin smiled warmly and said, "Everyone, it's that time of year again for the Charity Pokémon Battle Tournament. I'm sure you're all eager to begin. As Mayor and Chairman of the tournament, I would like to thank all our charity pioneers."

Clap clap clap clap—

The applause grew even more enthusiastic.

Ejin continued, "As you all know, the environment in Iron Town is utterly harsh. All sorts of children live in dire misery, with no guarantee of safety from one moment to the next. I believe this year's donations will improve their lives even more effectively!"

"Beautifully said!"

"Lord Ejin is truly compassionate!"

"What boundless mercy! Lord Ejin is practically a saint reborn!"

The gentlemen loudly voiced their admiration and praise, while the noble ladies dabbed at the corners of their eyes with handkerchiefs.

Ejin's smile widened. He raised his right hand slightly and pressed down, "Thank you all for your kind words. I've only done a little insignificant work. Now, please allow me to set the first example, and in my personal capacity, donate one hundred million to the Charity Battle Tournament!"

Crash crash crash crash—

Thunderous applause.

"Lord Ejin is so generous! I'll chip in as well — seventy million!"

"Excellent! I'll donate thirty million!"

"I'll donate forty million!"

The upper-class people scrambled to throw in their money, and each time someone spoke up to donate, they received a look of approval from Ejin.

Many grew flushed with excitement, looking as though they'd just been acknowledged by their idol.

In a corner.

A man holding a glass of red wine wore an indifferent expression, as if watching some sort of performance.

This so-called charity tournament was, without a doubt, a means for the Mayor of Silbe City, in collusion with certain underworld factions from Iron Town, to rake in money.

And the entrepreneurs and tycoons present, wanting to stay in their good graces, had no choice but to take part. Willing or not, they had to set aside a day to observe this filthy Pokémon battle tournament.

Charity?

Charity wouldn't pit thirty children against each other in a fight to the death for money, with no surrender or withdrawal allowed.

Safety measures?

None.

Rules against vital-point attacks?

None either.

Every rule was designed to make this tournament "real" — casually tossing people and Pokémon into a cage called an arena, with even so-called designated tips—

The man's right fist clenched until his knuckles went white, yet he was powerless to change any of it, and even had to go along with the crowd.

Because he too was a beneficiary. The leverage his family and business gave them left him able only to rebel hypocritically in his heart, shouting in his mind that he would sweep away injustice, fantasizing about grand ambitions to change the Ore Region.

Many of the fleeced entrepreneurs in attendance had every right to despise all of this. He did not.

Ore.

A corner of the Pokémon world, a distant land far from the other regions — when would you see a truly clear sky?

"Gulp!"

The man downed his red wine in one go, quickly merged into the crowd, raised his index finger, and shouted, "I will donate fifty million!"

Clap clap clap clap—

The amounts were all pre-arranged. Once paid, they would be returned after the event, along with his share of the donations.

The "gentlemen's" money returned in full; the "commoners'" money split three-seven.

Amid the applause, the inwardly frustrated man looked up at the screen and quickly locked onto a vaguely familiar figure.

Hmm…

You entered too?

Then, after a full week has passed, having enjoyed the treatment of a full member, do you still possess that sincerity you once had?

The man withdrew from this revelry belonging to Mareep and farmers, found a random seat in the viewing area, sat down, and waited for the tournament to begin.

——

Desert.

The tournament entered its countdown phase.

Both participating teams were brought to the entrance, first frisked and their backpacks searched, with all items that could contact the outside world prohibited.

Then, per the rules, they put on wristbands and, under the organizer's arrangement, took turns introducing themselves, along with the pre-match trash-talk and intimidation segment.

Baimu had no intention of showing off, said a couple of casual words, and came down. But the others seemed to want to win the 'audience's' favor, doing everything they could to show themselves off.

When he finished, Otsuka even regretfully said the content was too little — if the audience didn't remember you, it was hard to get tips.

Meanwhile.

When it was the Fierce Dog Squad's Jian's turn to take the microphone, he surveyed every member of the Quicksand Squad with a cold sneer and delivered words that left them utterly shocked and the spectators wildly excited.

"There's someone among you with real ability — they actually came to commission me, wanting me to take off one of your legs."

"Ha, take off a leg? Hahahahahaha! What an absolute joke!"

Jian laughed wildly, "Don't worry, don't you worry at all! All fifteen of you — I'll catch each and every one of you, slowly. I'll break your arms, stomp your wrists, and when you're crying and screaming for your mom, I'll bite through your throats!"

His savage, twisted face and undisguised killing intent drew cheers from the crowd who loved nothing more than watching the drama unfold.

The Quicksand Squad members' faces darkened. Having been provoked to this extent, how many of them could swallow this insult?

No matter how wary they felt inside, they couldn't possibly let it show on their faces now.

"A clumsy attempt to drive a wedge! Don't fall for it, everyone!"

"Exactly! How can one person take on all fifteen of us? He's just talking tough!"

"Is the Fierce Dog Squad only good with their mouths? Barking away like Wang Wang?"

The jeers quickly drew a response from the Fierce Dog Squad.

"What the hell did you just say?"

"Say that again if you've got the guts! You bastard!"

Seeing the trash-talk segment about to devolve into pointless mutual cursing, the organizers immediately rushed out to stop it, forcing both sides to begin attacking their opponents with glares instead.

In the crowd, All Baimu stared at Jian across the way; Jian stared back at him unblinkingly, and only after a full six or seven seconds did he snort coldly and look away.

Direct enough.

Looks like the one whose leg is supposed to be taken off is him — but who exactly commissioned it?

All Baimu curiously looked around, taking in every flicker of shock, suspicion, panic, and furious indignation.

"So that's how it is…"

He rubbed his chin, gaining a rough understanding of the situation.

Beside him, Otsuka grew increasingly anxious as the match drew near and couldn't help but say, "All Baimu, we…"

"Don't panic — you said it yourself, if you can't win, run," he patted Otsuka's shoulder, signaling him to relax.

If he had energy to spare like during the entrance exam, All Baimu wouldn't mind helping the kid out a bit.

But he really couldn't. That Jian from the Fierce Dog Squad had clearly set his sights on him — even though he'd said he'd treat everyone "equally," god knew whether he was bluffing.

It was entirely possible he'd throw a smoke bomb and come running specifically to catch him.

He had to make sure his own safety came first.

All Baimu held a Poké Ball in his hand, silently watching the Quicksand Squad members, assisted by staff one by one, put on blindfolds and step into container-like "passenger cabins."

The blindfolds could only be removed after arriving at the destination, when the wristband beeped — removing them early was a violation.

No one would be stupid enough to do that at this point.

Next door, the Fierce Dog Squad also had staff moving among them.

When it was Otsuka's turn ahead of him, All Baimu turned to glance at the next area and happened to meet Jian's gaze.

"Heh!"

Jian grinned savagely and made a throat-slitting gesture.

His expression unchanged, All Baimu watched him and Otsuka ahead of him walk into separate cabins, and when the staff came up to him, he suddenly turned and smiled at Shi Yuan Du behind him.

"Good luck."

"Huh? Uh… you too." Shi Yuan Du forced a smile in return.