The Kalos Conspiracy

Chapter 11 - Caught in Viola's Web (2/2)

Chapter 11

Astrid gazed across the stadium, her thoughts drifting back to the days of her initiation into the world of Pokémon training. In her country, the apprenticeship process began within the walls of the educational institutions, where students were introduced to the ties of partnership between humans and Pokémon. At the tender age of twelve, if they so wished, each of them was handed their first Pokémon, a companion who would follow them throughout their entire school life. For Astrid, that steadfast accomplice was Absol, an ally whose presence spoke of loyalty and silent understanding.

School days weren't just about textbooks and lectures ; they were also the sanctuary where aspiring trainers honed their skills. The classrooms echoed with the sounds of Pokémon cries as young students learned the intricacies of the battlefield. Lessons on strategy, type subtleties, and the unspoken language that connected a trainer to their Pokémon were imparted with precision. The transition from novice to adept was a process, a metamorphosis that happened in tandem with the growth of both trainer and Pokémon. And then, after years of practice, a pivotal moment arrived with the day of graduation.

With a diploma in hand, students received more than just a piece of paper. It was a license to enter the world of Pokémon officially. A red-and-white sphere, cradling their first companion, became a tangible representation of the journey ahead. With this certificate, they were authorized to compete in tournaments, buy Poké Balls and legally catch and breed Pokémon. The halls of Kalosian schools were where dreams took root, where trainers were born, and where bonds with Pokémon were forged — bonds that could endure defeats, celebrate victories, and propel them forward into the redoubtable territories of the Pokémon League.

However, Astrid struck a snag in her quest for success. Her mind swirled with recollections of a time when her dreams hung precariously on the edge of obliteration. Despite her flawless scores and reputation as a Pokémon battle prodigy, her path was almost permanently barred by her own aggressive tendencies. Her frequent violent altercations with classmates painted a portrait of discord, a tempest of fury that eclipsed her undeniable talent. Her volatile nature alarmed the examiners, who raised questions about the safety of entrusting her with Pokémon. Ultimately, they opted to play it safe and cancelled her admission.

Dismissal slammed the door on her aspirations, leaving Astrid in the verge of despair. The label of undisciplined troublemaker clung to her like a shroud, a damning verdict that threatened to eclipse her lofty ambitions. Her parents, oblivious to her inner turmoil, saw this rejection as an opportunity to turn her into a housebound servant. Menial chores replaced the thrill of Pokémon duels, and Astrid's spirit withered under the weight of domesticity. In her darkest hour, on the precipice of breakdown, a glimmer of hope held out a salvific hand. A mysterious benefactor, veiled in anonymity, intervened to secure her rightful place as a trainer.

This enigmatic figure, the unsung savior of Astrid's saga, remained unknown. As far as the blonde girl knew, he was undoubtedly an extremely influential patron capable of lobbying examiners directly commissioned by the Minister of Sport. He was also very wealthy, offering the onerous sum of fifty thousand Pokédollars to her parents to ensure their compliance. This pair of nitwits gladly accepted, and spent it all within only a few months. Too bad, but she wasn't gonna pity them, they didn't deserve her compassion.

Whoever this shadowy guardian angel was, Astrid owed him a debt of gratitude. He had rekindled the flame of her passions and forever lifted her out of a suffocating environment. "I'm sure I'll meet him sooner or later. And that day, I'll finally know why he did this for me." Absol snapped her out of her reverie by patting her arm to draw her attention into the arena. Below, the duelists were gearing up for their last combat, from which the clear winner would emerge.