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They were all final evolution forms, each one stronger than the last, and the strategies were increasingly sophisticated. Kyron was so tempted to go there in person and use the Eye of Data to analyze every Pokémon on the spot.
In his arms, Aron was staring with wide eyes, watching the battles intently. For the little steel-type, witnessing the highest level of national competition opened up a whole new world—it was beyond excited.
And so, Kyron and his Pokémon stayed home and watched the matches all day long.
After dinner, since the battles hadn't resumed yet, Kyron changed into a tracksuit and headed out with Aron to get some exercise.
This little guy was full of energy, like an endless battery, always running headfirst into targets at home. Kyron was worried that if Aron got bored of smashing into things, it might start wrecking the place. So he had to get it outside to burn off some energy.
While walking around the neighborhood, Kyron greeted familiar neighbors, many of whom were curious about the Pokémon at his feet.
With 905 species of Pokémon now known worldwide, it's understandable that non-trainers couldn't recognize them all.
Those who did know what an Aron was looked at Kyron with envy—though whether they were jealous, he couldn't tell; no one shows that on their face.
Leaving the Taiyu neighborhood, turning left led to Shangcang Food Street, and a bit further was his school, No. 8 Middle School. Turning right and walking about three kilometers brought you to his destination: the Battle Park.
"Aron, follow me! Our target today is the Battle Park—it's a three-kilometer trip."
Kyron stretched and began jogging.
Aron ran along, those stubby legs moving quickly to keep up.
Kyron's legs powered forward, energy surging through his body, tempting him to sprint full-out—but he held it back, keeping a steady, rhythmic pace.
The roadside trees offered shade, the wide pedestrian paths allowed freedom without bumping into anyone, and the scenery blurred past as they moved forward.
Cars occasionally passed them, but Aron stayed close behind at a consistent pace.
They passed other joggers along the way—some nodding in mutual recognition. While names were unknown, regular runners developed a kind of silent camaraderie.
The Battle Park had been renovated and expanded from an old park. Its peak hours were at night.
With the sun down and heat subsiding, people came out—office workers off duty, seniors out walking or dancing in the plaza.
After being indoors all day, most folks chose to head here to relax.
When Kyron arrived, he was already sweating, perspiration dripping from his brow, but his breathing was steady—he wasn't tired at all.
He checked the time: 3 kilometers in 11 minutes—15 seconds faster than his last run.
Aron, on the other hand, wasn't used to such distance. The poor thing was panting heavily, clearly worn out.
The sky was dimming, sunset casting a warm hue over half the sky. The park was bustling with people.
Rows of green trees enclosed the area, the air here fresher than elsewhere. As they got closer, they could hear music from a distance.
From afar, Kyron could see a large open plaza where a group of middle-aged women in matching outfits were dancing. Among them, a few Pokémon danced along—clearly regulars.
The Battle Park didn't have a traditional entrance—just a central square. Once you entered, you were inside.
The path split in two: Left led into a garden of lush greenery and some ancient-style buildings—home to a few wild Pokémon.
Walking there, breathing fresh air, feeding wild Pokémon, and enjoying the peaceful scenery was known to lift spirits.
Going right brought you to the true battle zones—several fenced-off courts resembling basketball courts, about twenty of them in total.
Every day, amateur and hobbyist trainers battled here. Occasionally, professionals showed up for a challenge.
Whether to fight or just watch, you had to pay an entry fee—five bucks got you in for the whole day.
Each court had four white mechanical poles in the corners—each topped with a large digital screen the size of a door.
These screens displayed ads: battle drinks, fitness bands, smartwatches—someone clearly knew how to monetize this.
The ground itself wasn't ordinary asphalt or cement—it was a special material.
Because Pokémon battles often tore up the surface, repairs used to be time-consuming and expensive. The new material was tough, self-repairing—pretty much sci-fi tech.
Originally, none of this existed. Just two years ago, it was regular concrete, and trainers had to hold back in battle for fear of fines.
Now, thanks to a company's investment, the park was refurbished with these high-tech upgrades—and trainers flocked here.
All this, Kyron learned from Liu Bin, a friend who loved to hang out here and knew everything about it.
After paying five bucks at the entrance, Kyron walked in with Aron.
The park was lively. Some people were training their Pokémon, others already locked in battle, surrounded by spectators.
Kyron joined a crowd around a match between a chubby kid and a guy with glasses—both around 18 or 19.
A referee stood between them: "This is a 1v1 match. The battle ends when one side loses the ability to fight or surrenders. Battle—start!"
"Go, Sandslash!"
"Go, Bibarel!"
The two Pokémon appeared—Sandslash, a brown hedgehog-armadillo hybrid with sharp claws, and Bibarel, a large brown beaver-like Pokémon with prominent buck teeth.
Kyron quickly activated his Eye of Data:
Pokémon: Sandslash
Type: Ground
Talent: ★
Level: 24
Ability: Sand Veil
Pokémon: Bibarel
Type: Normal, Water
Talent: ★
Level: 22
Ability: Simple
They were close in strength—it would all come down to their trainers' commands.
"Sandslash, use Slash!"
"Bibarel, Tackle!"
Both charged at each other.
Sandslash swung its glowing claws, landing a strike. Bibarel, however, used its bulk to slam into Sandslash.
Both were knocked back from the collision.
The trainers shouted commands again, and the battle resumed.
Having watched the national tournament all day, Kyron now felt like he was watching two noobs flail around—but even so, he was curious about the outcome.
Despite their similar strength, Bibarel's trainer lacked finesse—just brute force attacks, no dodging, no strategy.
Sandslash outmaneuvered it with tricks and patience, ultimately landing a decisive hit and knocking Bibarel out.
The crowd cheered. The glasses-wearing trainer sprayed a potion on his Pokémon, then returned it to its Poké Ball with a sigh. "I lost…"
Sandslash's trainer looked smug. "Who's next!?"
"I'll challenge you!" a voice rang out. A tall, athletic guy in his twenties stepped forward. Cheers erupted—people shouted "Rat King! Rat King!"
He was well-known here.
A whisper near Kyron: "Rat King's bullying people again…"
The battle began anew.
Rat King sent out a Raticate—brown-yellow fur, huge teeth.
Pokémon: Raticate
Type: Normal
Talent: ★
Level: 30
Ability: Guts
A level 30? This guy was bullying people.
The Raticate blitzed forward and smacked Sandslash before it could react. The difference in power was obvious.
After two clean hits, Sandslash collapsed.
Then, a chubby, excited 7–8-year-old kid nearby started clapping wildly. Fired up by the fight, he looked at his own small purple Rattata, then scanned the area for a target.
He spotted Kyron and Aron.
He grinned, pointed at Aron, and shouted, "Rattata, use Tackle!"
The dumb little Rattata didn't think—just did as it was told, charging straight into Aron.
BANG!
Aron was knocked over—not hurt, just confused, staring blankly at the Rattata.
Kyron turned, saw what happened, then looked at the kid.
Who let this brat out to cause trouble?
The kid puffed his chest out and declared, "I challenge you!"
Kyron was stunned. "Who even are you? Are you always this bold?"
Activating his Eye of Data again: