"Yes! Victory!"
As the opponent's last Pokémon had its HP fully depleted while remaining in a continuous sleep status, Alex successfully claimed yet another battle win.
"Whoo-hoo! "
Alex snapped his hands together with a clap so sharp it could've startled a sleeping Diglett into evolving.
Through the entire Double Battles, Alex had deployed only Butterfree and its stalwart attacker—their synergy so surgical, a single rotation effortlessly cleared the entire opposing team.
Normally, a battle victory should be a great thing, whether for the streamer playing the game or the viewers watching the stream.
Yet... something about the vibe in Alex's stream felt oddly sterile, like a Max Revive used at full health.
"Toxic much? Since when did Butterfree become the king of cheese strats?"
"Wiped out before they could even blink—Brutal doesn't even cut it. Classic Alex, you merciless meta-lord."
"Win or lose, Butterfree gets the noose! Sleep clause ain't just a rule—it's a blood pact!"
"Don't blame the Butterfree—this is Alex's playbook leaking straight from VGC villain arc! Rage Powder + Quiver Dance combo's got more cheese than a Slurpuff's Berry buffet."
The live chat was flooded with everyone united in criticizing this guy who kept using cheap tactics to troll his opponents.
Phew... Just a narrow win." Seeing the viewers' comments, Alex maintained his smug smile but pretended to downplay his victory with false modesty.
Instantly, his annoyingly handsome face became an even bigger magnet for salt in the chat.
But... not every match had been a clean sweep for Alex.
In the final battle, Alex's Butterfree—despite having its accuracy boosted to 97.5% by Compound Eyes—somehow managed to miss Sleep Powder twice consecutively. This unexpected blunder allowed the opponent's Pokémon to briefly counterattack and turn the tide.
At that critical moment, if Alex hadn't reacted with lightning-fast reflexes—executing a perfect Protect switch to preserve his Butterfree—the stream would've exploded with chaos. Though truth be told, even if Butterfree had been KO'd, his remaining team could've still cleaned up the battle.
This is the brutal reality of meta-gaming battlers steamrolling in-game NPC logic – competitive strats vs. story mode trainers might as well be different dimensions.
Having spent considerable time in this world, Alex has observed that most trainers' capabilities and battle styles are constrained by their limited stamina and manageable roster of Pokémon. Unlike the game players from his past life—who could master every species' meta—these trainers often struggle to employ sophisticated tactics, relying instead on gradual trial-and-error to refine their team compositions and strategic choices.
It can't be helped.
Even Professor Oak can't just hand trainers spreadsheets with every Pokémon's base stats, movepools, and six core metrics. Most team compositions here are downright rudimentary compared to hardcore competitive battlers' optimized lineups.
Moreover, real-world Pokémon battles aren't turn-based slugfests—these fluid, real-time clashes test a trainer's split-second judgment and their Pokémon's core competencies under pressure.
In practice, what truly delivers clutch plays are a trainer's split-second reflexes and their Pokémon's actual conditioning—book-smart tactics tend to take a backseat when the chaos of real combat unfolds.
As a result, many trainers doubled down on honing their core combat skills, trapped in a self-reinforcing loop of grinding fundamentals.
This setup gave Alex the perfect opening to leverage his online battle prowess—stacking tactical advantages to systematically outmaneuver even a seasoned pro like Gym Leader Misty.
"When is Alex going pro as a trainer?"
Before he could even respond to the viewer's question, the chat exploded with theories, crowdsourcing answers about his career path faster than a Speed Boost Blaziken.
"Alex has probably been a trainer for ages. Most regions aren't as strict about age requirements as Unova—you don't need a license to catch 'em all."
"Exactly! In Kanto, kids can start their Pokémon journey at 10. Alex is 18 now—definitely a seasoned pro by this point."
"As soon as Alex and Misty began their battle, the live chat instantly recognized the player using an all-water Pokémon team as the Gym Leader of Cerulean City."
It can't be helped. When it comes to fame, Misty—who's been a seasoned trainer for years while moonlighting as an aquatic performer to rake in fan adoration—is practically a celebrity trainer. Her recognition absolutely dwarfs Alex's.
The Kanto Eight aren't just Gym Leaders—their prowess teeters on the edge of Elite Four-tier might, commanding universal reverence as living legends who've essentially become the region's battle deities.
By defeating Misty, Alex essentially powercrept her legacy—a hypothetical promotion that rocketed him straight into Gym Leader-tier status overnight, at least in the eyes of the meta.
Not to mention, the clip of Alex bulldozing Misty with his Butterfree's 'questionable' strats has already gone viral. By tomorrow, it'll be all over socials with titles like 'SLEEP POWDER OP??' and 'HOW IS THIS LEGAL IN VGC?' plastered across every PokéTube thumbnail from here to Galar.
"Ugh, why is the cringey hype still going?"
Seeing the live chat's increasingly absurd and off-track praise, a slightly annoyed Alex decided to set the record straight by debunking those baseless rumors.
"Alex is still a first-year college student, not a certified trainer. If he completes his studies, he may choose to travel in the Kanto region."
However, the live chat viewers remained completely skeptical of his claims.
"Alex's battle IQ is cracked for someone 'not a real trainer'—what's next, saying Red's just a casual player?"
"If even Misty lost to our Alex, just drop the modesty already. The only thing humbler than your denial is a Magikarp pretending it can't learn Hydro Pump."
"In practical terms, Alex is essentially at the level of a Gym Leader."
Although most viewers lack the analytical skills of top players, they understand this principle: without strong core battle fundamentals in real life, one couldn't effectively execute complex tactics even in online matches.
"It turns out Coach Alex wasn't just boasting—he truly is a formidable trainer."
Everyone has now agreed that Alex is a high-level trainer who has been concealing his true capabilities.
"If you're not a trainer, why would you devote so much time studying battle tactics?"
"How could someone who isn't a trainer possibly develop such advanced strategies?"
"Look, I'm seriously not a trainer."
The win felt too effortless to properly gauge Misty's skill. With a dismissive wave at the chat's skepticism, Alex fired back: "Stop with the baseless accusations—since when do veteran trainers roll with just a Caterpie?"
"As a Unova native where you can't even get your starter Pokémon until graduating high school, how could I possibly exploit some regional age-gate loophole to become a trainer early?"
The cheerful atmosphere in the stream froze momentarily as a gilded username—emblazoned with VIP tier effects—sent Alex a superchat that lit up the screen like a Max Raid Beam.
"Eh?"
Staring at the edgy yet awe-inspiring username glowing on screen, Alex blinked once—then froze. The ID in question? None other than Red, the Legendary Pokémon Master himself."
This Champion-tier legend is constantly dropping knowledge bombs in Pokémon breeding guides and battle analysis vids—honestly, he's as recognizable as a Shiny Charizard in a starter squad.
Alex's stream skyrocketed in popularity after receiving an iconic gift from Red—the chat's chaotic frenzy escalated to tournament finals-tier madness as the people's champion made his presence known.
"Red! The GOAT! Red!!!"
"Red is actually here? Have Alex's jank tactics really escalated to this level?"
"Holy shit, Alex no sooner cheesed Misty with jank strats than Red drops a superchat—smoking gun proof of that Kanto Champion vs Gym Leader faux friendship. Guess even legend-tier trainers can't resist the drama of a good ol' strategic clapback."
"Spread the news: Red betrayed Misty for Alex. "
Red, ever the socially oblivious legend, clearly hasn't grasped the symbolic weight his casual gift holds in fans' eyes as the Pokémon world's ultimate icon.
The battle-obsessed Kanto Champion dove headfirst into the chat's speculation, convincing himself Alex was some hidden master trainer. Red's excitement spiked like a Mega Evolved Charizard's attack stat—here was a fresh challenger worthy of Mt. Silver's frozen battlegrounds.
"Ah... Red's star power never fades, does it?"
Watching the stream's viewer count explode, Yellow—seated beside her battle-obsessed companion—couldn't suppress a fond eye-roll.
"Uh..."
Realizing what Yellow meant, Red scratched his head with an awkward expression. "Haven't seen a trainer this tactically sharp in ages," he explained with a sheepish grin. "Couldn't help myself—just sent a little gift on impulse."
As he spoke, Red chose to ignore Misty's angry message on his phone—'Alex defeated me with unorthodox tactics, and you actually sent him a gift?'—and proceeded to click into Alex's profile.
"Though I've been following this streamer for some time, we haven't communicated yet. Building a connection could be valuable—he might even become a potential battle partner down the line."
After composing the private message, Red smiled faintly.
If Alex streams his tactics and battles so openly, he must crave the spotlight—exactly the type of trainer Red respects most.
The thought of losing to Alex never crossed his mind. This was the confidence of Red, known as 'the Battler' and the undefeated Kanto Champion.