The road to Oreburgh started at the south ridge, past the edge of the last water station, and curved around a row of wind-battered stone. Orion had packed everything. Training journal. Emergency gear. Pokéballs. Rations. Tyrunt's minerals. He was ready.
Mostly.
He hadn't expected to stay in Stonewall as long as he had. But the work, the fight, the move tutor—it had all been worth it. Tyrunt wasn't the same beast he'd dragged out of that frozen cavern. Not anymore.
They were less than a minute from the city limits when someone shouted behind him.
"Hey! Don't pretend you didn't hear me!"
Orion turned, already recognizing the voice.
The Buizel trainer from the alley jogged toward him, grin halfway between cocky and amused.
"You were really gonna leave without giving me a rematch?"
Orion didn't answer right away. He looked at Tyrunt, who had already stiffened up, head low.
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"Oh?" The trainer raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"I'm not sure he'll hold back."
"Well, I'm not sure I will either."
Orion exhaled through his nose.
The trainer pulled a folded bill from his side pouch—crisp, fresh. 100 Pokédollars.
"You win, you get it. I win, I double my lunch budget."
Orion didn't like gambling. But something in Tyrunt's posture said this wasn't a choice.
"Fine."
They moved to a small patch of beaten earth just off the trail. Faded rings showed this wasn't the first match fought here. Orion took his position. The Buizel trainer rolled his shoulders, stepped back ten meters, and unclipped his ball.
"Let's go, Remi."
The Buizel hit the ground in one clean blur of light. Sleek. Balanced. Eyes locked on Tyrunt instantly.
Tyrunt followed with a low growl, tail lashing. The dragon wanted blood.
Orion crouched slightly. "Only if I say so."
The trainer called out first.
"Water Pulse! Don't stop moving!"
Remi surged sideways, not forward—around Tyrunt. Water gathered around its paws, rippling into a tight, high-pressure burst that slammed Tyrunt in the shoulder before he could react.
Tyrunt staggered.
Another blast followed, this one aimed low, catching Tyrunt in the knee joint. The dinosaur dropped slightly, claws dragging the dirt.
"Keep your eyes on him!" Orion snapped.
Tyrunt turned fast, trying to bite, but Buizel was already gone—zigzagging left, skimming the edge of the arena, shooting another pulse over his shoulder like it was a game.
The hits weren't massive—but they wore him down. Slowed him. Irritated him.
And Tyrunt hated being toyed with.
Orion could see it.
The twitch in the claws.
The deep, building growl.
He knew what came next.
"Tyrunt—don't lose your head—"
Too late.
Tyrunt charged.
Full force.
Remi dashed away, too fast, bounding off a flat stone and launching into a mid-air twist. Another water blast hit Tyrunt square in the face.
He roared, stopped short, and smashed the ground with both claws.
Orion winced. He wasn't following anything now. He was just reacting.
Remi moved in again—too close.
That was the mistake.
Tyrunt twisted, eyes locked. There was no roar this time. No stomp.
Just a snap.
A flash of black energy surged from his throat to his jaw like ink lit by lightning.
His fangs pulsed with Dark energy—raw, channeled, controlled.
Bite. The real one.
It hit Buizel just behind the shoulder, mid-leap.
Remi cried out, twisted in the air, and tumbled across the dirt, dazed.
He didn't get up.
Silence.
The other trainer blinked.
"Well," he said, walking forward, voice calm but impressed. "Guess I deserved that."
He knelt beside his partner, offered a quick spray of potion from his belt kit, and then looked back at Orion.
"Nice control at the end. Shame about the beginning."
"I wasn't sure he could do it."
"Now you know."
Orion reached out for the money.
The trainer handed it over without flinching.
Then smirked. "Try not to get that thing arrested before Oreburgh."
Orion didn't answer.
Tyrunt was still breathing heavy.
But his eyes… they were calm.
For the first time in a long time.