You could have heard a pin drop in that stadium. The Fighting Department students' expressions cycled from disdain, to shock, to something closer to sheer bewilderment.
Luke recalled Gastly, expression a little conflicted. "Guess that's a win."
Elena stood frozen for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Our class needs the field," Luke said, glancing over. "No objections?"
Elena shook her head, still somewhat blank.
Luke felt a small twinge of guilt. She seems genuinely nice. Just... painfully awkward socially.
Someone finally worked up the nerve to ask. "Did — did Class Rep Luke actually win?"
"He beat a school team member?!"
"No way, he actually won!" Daniel shouted. "Brother Luke, you absolute legend!"
The Finance Department side erupted into cheers. The Fighting Department students, meanwhile, were still stuck somewhere between confused and in denial.
This isn't right. This isn't how this is supposed to go.
Elena was already the strongest in their class — even the school team's coach had said so outright. And she'd just lost to some random Finance Department kid nobody had ever heard of.
Something's wrong here.
"Did you actually watch the match closely?"
"I mean — that Gastly's speed was absurd, but—"
"No, I mean the commands. The calling."
As Fighting Department students, they could read the gap between the two Pokémon clearly enough. Gastly's speed was ridiculous, sure, but in raw power it was still a notch below Granbull. The lopsided outcome had come almost entirely from commanding — which meant Luke's tactical level had outclassed a school-team-caliber Trainer outright.
"Are you kidding me? He's Finance Department!"
"How does a Finance major have command instincts like that?!"
"He predicted her. Multiple times."
Successful pre-reads came from one of two places: pure luck, or a real gap in skill. Elena had been read correctly, repeatedly — that ruled out luck completely.
Which left only one explanation.
"Let's just go. Let's go."
"Not worth it. Not worth messing with that guy."
"I don't get it — how is this guy Finance Department?"
The Fighting Department crowd dispersed, thoroughly deflated. Elena lingered, mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally spoke.
"Would you... consider trying out for the school team?"
Gastly's overall strength was still fairly shallow, sure, but with Luke's command instincts, a spot on the team was practically guaranteed. And with her own loss fresh, Elena figured she'd lost the standing to stay on the roster anyway — which left an opening, conveniently timed.
"No," Luke said, immediately.
Elena blinked, thrown.
Why not? His actual goals were straightforward: make serious money, become his own boss, buy a nice house. Before any of that, he had streaming and his channel to manage, on top of not falling behind in his actual classes.
The Metro City school team? Is that supposed to impress me? The World Champion is literally in my group chat and I don't even bring it up.
But from where Elena stood, all she saw was: exceptional skill, striking looks, clear ambition, easy composure under pressure.
She bowed deeply. "Thank you."
As she hurried off, Daniel elbowed Luke. "She lost and she's thanking you? What's that about?"
"No idea." Luke scratched his head. "Maybe I'm just too handsome."
Daniel studied him for a second, unimpressed. "Eh. You're fine. Marginally better-looking than me."
______________________________
With the standoff resolved, Coach Miller was deeply, visibly grateful. Luke walked away from Pokémon Battling Studies with a perfect score — which meant, counting Sinnoh Pokémon History and Pokémon Rearing Studies, he'd now topped every single course this semester.
Just thinking about the $850 scholarship waiting at the end of term had his mouth curling into an involuntary grin.
Locked in. This wave is absolutely locked in.
The system logged its own take on the Elena match:
[Earned gasps from classmates: BP+1, BP+1...]
[Successful prediction! BP+50]
[Trash talk landed successfully! BP+50]
[Victory achieved — rating: Total domination! (BP+100)]
Elena had lived up to her reputation — practically a Superior-tier opponent, worth over 500 BP on her own.
[Remaining BP: 3280]
Even so, Luke wasn't fully satisfied. "I make over a thousand just editing one video." Being a Trainer clearly isn't the efficient path here. Streaming's still the better bet.
Thinking back over the match, though, something did nag at him — every Trainer he'd faced so far had been Master-tier at minimum, and without really noticing, his own command instincts had been sharpening the whole time. Still, no amount of skill fixed the fact that raising Pokémon properly took real money, and he didn't have much of that to spare. His actual priority right now was locking in that scholarship.
As for the Piplup Cup?
Eh. I'll just coast through it. Not like I'm actually winning the whole thing.
______________________________
That night, Gastly picked up a new move.
Luke: ?
Probably a side effect of all the experience it had banked from the Granbull fight — its grasp on Substitute had leveled up again, and the "new move" turned out to be a fusion: Dark Shadow layered onto Substitute.
Dark Shadow was one of Gastly's few real offensive tools this early on — genuinely important to its kit. What it actually looked like: a menacing, roughly six-foot demon statue materializing behind Gastly, dealing damage through pure illusion and fear.
Luke stared at it. Don't tell me you're doing this just because I never got around to watching Naruto. That's basically a Susanoo.
So what, does that make Will-O-Wisp basically Amaterasu now?
Complaints aside, Luke was still, dutifully, out here making Pokéblock for his Pokémon. Between last night's all-nighter and today's marathon of a battle, Gastly hadn't actually slept in almost two full days.
Luke put together a gentler batch of Pokéblock this time — moomoo milk, peach, a bit of honey he'd ordered online. Gastly ate it obediently, then floated up to the ceiling and settled in for the night.
Luke's mouth curved into a small smile watching it go still. Backstabs me constantly when it's awake. But at least it's well-behaved once it's out cold.
______________________________
Two in the morning.
After barely two hours of sleep, Gastly's eyes snapped open — huge, unnervingly wide, glowing faint green in the dark.
Tomorrow's the second round of the group stage.
No time to waste. Back to training.