That year, the Imperial Capital was bitterly cold.
A powerful cold front sweeping down from the north had brought a sharp chill to the city, making that winter far harsher than any in recent memory. The streets were quiet and frost-edged, and the air had a bite that cut straight through even the thickest coat.
In weather like that, Jacob's life had settled into a steady rhythm: eating, sleeping, and training — a simple three-point loop. Living together with Nina had added a quiet warmth to his days, a small sweetness tucked between all the routine.
But Julia was no longer part of that picture.
After that one night, things between them had shifted completely. Jacob would still see Julia come online in his chat app from time to time, but she never sent him a message meant just for him. It was as if she had quietly stepped out of his life without saying goodbye.
Even in class, they were like two people who happened to know each other's names — nothing more than brief, polite greetings between classmates. The easy smiles Julia used to wear had faded, replaced by a calm, composed coolness. She seemed to have grown up overnight, and something about that made Jacob's chest feel a little tight.
He noticed. But there was nothing he could do.
Matters of the heart don't heal with words or actions — only time can slowly soften that kind of pain. It might not make someone forget, but it can offer a kind of quiet release. Jacob could only hope that Julia would find her footing again before long.
The next week came and went before Jacob even noticed.
His relationship with Nina had grown closer, and in many ways they had started to feel like a real couple. If not for Raya, Jacob might have let himself fall in love — might have imagined a future with Nina, something lasting and simple. But he couldn't cut things off with Raya the same way he had with Julia. So he did what he always did in situations like this: he took things one day at a time, letting the days carry him forward without forcing any answers.
Beyond the quiet complications of his personal life, a number of significant events had recently shaken up the wider Pokémon world.
The first was the upcoming Pokémon University Student International Exchange Tournament. Held once every three years, it was one of the most prestigious competitions at the university level, and the internal qualifiers in the region had drawn enormous interest. Trainers from all over were eager to secure a spot and represent their country on the international stage.
Jacob, however, wasn't particularly excited about it. For one thing, his current apparent strength made it difficult to realistically compete for a place — spots like these usually went to skilled third- and fourth-year students who had already proven themselves. For another, he had simply stopped caring much about trophies and titles. Recognition like that had lost its pull on him.
The second matter involved the detective agency he had recently taken charge of. After Jacob assumed leadership, he had quietly arranged for someone to look into Eleanor. The very next day, Eleanor called him directly. Her tone was calm but firm — she told him to pull the agent back immediately and stop the surveillance. She had no grudge against Jacob, she said, and they weren't enemies.
Jacob wasn't sure whether to feel amused or embarrassed. Not the most impressive debut as agency head, he thought.
But it was the third development that had truly captured the attention of the entire North China region.
Within the ranks of King-level Trainers, an unknown figure had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and in just a few short months had climbed from the very bottom of the North China region's King-level ranking all the way to fifth place.
Fifth place.
That meant he had earned a once-a-year opportunity to formally challenge one of the North China region's Four Heavenly Kings. If he won that match, he would take the title for himself.
The speed of his rise was staggering — and it drew attention precisely because the King-level ranking system was unlike anything below it.
Every King-level Trainer was required to register in one of the seven regions and compete in that region's ranking tournament. The top four in each region's standings were recognized as that region's Four Heavenly Kings — a title that set them apart from all other King-level Trainers.
The gap between a Four Heavenly King and a newly registered King-level Trainer was enormous. Take Nina, for example — she had recently obtained a Pokémon at the King level, which qualified her to enter the ranking tournament as a King-level Trainer. But as a newcomer, her ranking sat near the bottom. It would take her years — possibly decades — of hard battles to climb toward the top four.
And then there was Maximus, who already possessed a Pokémon at the Champion level, placing him in a league of his own. Even so, until he was formally promoted to Champion rank, he had to remain in the King-level rankings. His position, however, was first — the undisputed chief of the North China region's Four Heavenly Kings.
That was the world this mysterious newcomer had stepped into. And yet he had burned through the rankings in a matter of months.
Reaching fifth place also brought with it a formal challenge right: once a year, the fifth-ranked Trainer could issue a challenge to any of the four above them. Win, and the title changed hands. Lose, and they would have to wait another full year before challenging again.
Because the pool of King-level Trainers in any given region was relatively small, the composition of the Four Heavenly Kings rarely changed — years could pass without a single shift in the lineup.
So when it was confirmed that this newcomer intended to challenge the Ground-type Four Heavenly King of the North China region, the whole community took notice. The match was set for one month's time.
Jacob read the news with interest — not because of the match itself, but because of the challenger's name.
Antonio.
Jacob hadn't expected to hear that name again, and certainly not like this. When he saw it printed on the large promotional poster, the face staring back at him was exactly as he remembered from his time on the Patrol Team: temples touched with early grey, a lean face weathered by years of outdoor living, and those same old, dark-rimmed glasses sitting neatly on his nose. There was still that quiet, composed air about him — the look of a scholar who happened to live in the wilderness.
Antonio had served as vice-captain of the Sundawn Plateau Wilderness Patrol Team. He was one of the people who had left the deepest impression on Jacob during that period.
As Antonio himself had once mentioned, he was originally from the Imperial Capital. He had come to the Sundawn Plateau on a two-year support assignment, and during that time he also taught at a school in Green Mountain Town. When the assignment ended, he simply couldn't bring himself to leave — not with the children still there. So he stayed on voluntarily, and by now more than a decade had passed.
From the very first time they met, Antonio had stood out to Jacob. He always spoke with care and precision, never rushing, with a faint, steady smile and a voice that was unhurried and warm.
He was also one of the hardest-working people Jacob had ever encountered. From Monday to Friday, he taught classes at the local school. On weekends, as vice-captain, he joined the patrol rotations. Outside of short breaks during winter and summer, he was essentially always on the move — working with the quiet, tireless consistency of someone who had long since stopped counting the days.
That relentless pace had taken a visible toll on his appearance. He was only in his forties, yet he looked older — the kind of weathered that came not from neglect, but from years of genuine effort. It was a stark contrast to the polished faces Jacob saw in advertisements and on TV screens.