The air in the hall seemed to freeze.
The surrounding staff members, who had originally watched with curiosity and awe, were now all staring at their noses and hearts, breathing lightly for fear that they would be the next ones to suffer from Frustration.
Sidney clearly had no interest in dealing with such a small fry anymore. With a flick of his wrist, the Poké Ball belonging to Ariel traced a precise parabola through the air.
"Catch."
His voice was lazy, yet it carried an unmistakable force.
Ariel didn't even lift his eyelids. He reached out casually and caught the Poké Ball steadily in his palm; its touch was cold and familiar.
He didn't waste words either, flipping his hand to toss back the two Poké Balls he had 'borrowed'.
The movement was equally crisp and neat.
Sidney caught the balls and weighed them in his hand. A flash of genuine appreciation crossed his seemingly cynical eyes.
This kind of tacit understanding was not something an ordinary Trainer could possess.
"Kid, what's your name?"
He spoke again, his tone losing some of its recklessness and gaining a bit of seriousness.
"Ariel."
"Ariel?"
Sidney ran the name through his head but had no impression of it.
Among the notable Newcomers in the Hoenn region, there was no such person.
He grinned.
"Never heard of you. Are you self-taught?"
Ariel remained noncommittal.
Sidney didn't press him, caring more about another question: "What kind of Pokémon do you usually use?"
"Dark-type."
As soon as those two words left his mouth, Sidney's eyes instantly lit up like two searchlights.
"Ha! Dark-type!"
He slapped his thigh hard. The sound was so loud it made the entire hall buzz, and even the chandelier on the ceiling shook.
"You have good taste! Damn, you have excellent taste!"
Sidney rubbed his hands excitedly and walked around Ariel twice, as if sizing up a rare treasure.
"Kid, do you know who I am? Hoenn League Elite Four, Sidney! Dark-type is my game!"
He suddenly leaned in, his face almost touching the tip of Ariel's nose, bringing with it a faint scent of tobacco.
"How about this? I like the look of you, kid. Forget about whatever master you might have. Call me Big Bro, and I'll look after you from now on! What do you say?"
The corner of Ariel's mouth twitched uncontrollably.
This guy... is his brain wired differently from everyone else?
Just because his hands were a bit fast and he happened to use Dark-types, he wanted to take him in as a lackey?
This Elite member was being way too casual.
What was the difference between this and a street thug recruiting someone into a gang?
Wait... he had heard that Elite Sidney used to be a thug...
However, as ridiculous as it was, Ariel's heart began to pound uncontrollably.
A Dark-type Elite's 'little brother'...
The things represented behind that title were not casual at all.
Power, resources, connections, top-tier breeding knowledge, information on rare Dark-type Pokémon...
These were the things he currently craved the most.
This was practically a shortcut to the top of Hoenn, a shortcut that others couldn't even find the door to, no matter how hard they tried.
Although the Sidney in front of him acted like a street loiterer with no Elite demeanor, his status and strength were unquestionable.
It was just calling someone 'Big Bro'; it's not like he'd lose a limb.
How much was 'face' worth anyway?
Ariel quickly calculated the pros and cons in his mind and made a decision almost instantly.
He took a deep breath, having already gathered his emotions. Just as he was about to adopt the most sincere posture, cup his fists, and shout, "Big Brother, please accept your little brother's salute!"—
An old but vigorous voice came from the doorway without warning, interrupting his upcoming "family recognition" drama.
"Sidney, what are you doing here?"
The voice wasn't loud, but it was like a heavy hammer, precisely striking everyone's heart.
The atmosphere in the hall, which had just relaxed slightly, tightened again instantly.
Ariel looked toward the sound and saw an old man in a trench coat walking in slowly.
His hair was white and his face was covered in wrinkles, but his back was straight as a rod. Although his eyes were cloudy, they glinted with a light that saw through everything.
It was the Dragon-type Elite, Drake.
Seeing the Newcomer, Sidney's arrogant aura diminished considerably. He scratched his head, a look of slight impatience on his face.
"Old man, why are you here?"
"Just in time!"
Before Drake could answer, Sidney seemed to remember something. He threw an arm around Ariel's shoulder and showed off to Drake triumphantly.
"You came just in time! Be a witness for me. I, Elite Sidney, am officially taking on a little brother today! Ariel!"
Drake's gaze passed over Sidney and landed on Ariel's face.
When he saw that familiar face clearly, his brow furrowed imperceptibly.
He spoke slowly, his tone flat but carrying an unquestionable weight.
"No."
Sidney's smile froze on his face.
"Why?"
Drake shifted his gaze from Ariel to Sidney, speaking each word with absolute clarity.
"Because he is my man."
For a moment, the air seemed to be ignited.
Two Elites representing the highest combat power of the Hoenn League stood in a standoff in this empty hall over an unknown youth.
The smell of gunpowder spread instantly.
Everyone in the entire hall was completely stunned.
The air seemed to be sucked dry at this moment, leaving only a dull, dead silence.
The League hall, which had been somewhat lively before, was now so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone's movements were frozen in place as their eyes converged on the three figures facing off in the center, their breathing subconsciously becoming light.
Two Elites... fighting over a youth?
What kind of script was this?
Most of those present were low-level League staff or Trainers coming to handle business. To them, the Elite Four were legendary figures; being able to see one from a distance was enough to brag about for half a lifetime.
But now, the pinnacle of power in the Hoenn region, Dark-type Elite Sidney and Dragon-type Elite Drake, were standing right before them, locked in a tense standoff over a youth named Ariel.
"That guy called Ariel... what exactly is his identity?"
"Never heard of him. Is he a scion of some great family?"
"Even if he were the successor of a great family, it wouldn't be enough to make two Elites tear into each other in public, right?"
Suppressed discussions grew like the buzzing of mosquitoes among the crowd, every face written with disbelief.
And the waiter who had been extremely dismissive of Ariel earlier was now pale as death, his legs shaking like a sieve.
He felt his blood was about to turn ice cold.
What had he just done?
Not only had he neglected this youth who could make two Elites fight, but he had also shamelessly threatened to call security to throw him out!
This wasn't just offending someone; this was offending someone to death!
He was finished.
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