Venusaur slammed the ground with its forefeet, using Vine Whip. In an instant, emerald-green vines erupted from the ground, spreading wildly in all directions for hundreds of meters. These tough vines served both as a shield and a weapon, resilient against the flames of Fire-type Pokémon. Despite the fire's searing heat, the vines endured, whipping around to strike opponents with ferocious strength.
Fire-types relying on close-range moves fared the worst. Quilava's Flame Wheel move rolled into the vines, but its fiery form was quickly overwhelmed. The vines encased Quilava, snuffing out its flames and trapping it entirely. Similarly, Pignite's charged Flame Charge resulted in it crashing straight into the vines, only to be ensnared and immobilized, resembling a "roast suckling pig" as one observer remarked.
In just over ten seconds, all 30 opposing Fire-type Pokémon had been defeated. Some were whipped into submission by Vine Whip, while others were rendered helpless inside the vine prison. The scene was dazzling yet devastating, surpassing the chaotic spectacle of Chris's earlier battle with the red Gyarados.
Previously, rivals had rationalized their defeats by attributing them to Chris's fortuitous acquisition of a Gyarados, but now, after a month of training their own Pokémon, the difference was even more glaring. The gap between their Fire-types and Chris's Venusaur felt immeasurable. This was no ordinary Totem Pokémon; it was a well-trained powerhouse.
Denver, observing from the sidelines, couldn't help but mutter about how monstrous Chris's training abilities were. He now understood why Theodore held Chris in such high regard—the progress made with Venusaur in just a month was unfathomable.
Originally, Venusaur had been a Totem Bulbasaur, strong enough to justify its title but manageable for skilled trainers. Yet now, its evolution and rapid development meant it could effortlessly sweep through opponents with type advantages. Denver's earlier belief that clever strategy and good command might be enough to close the gap now seemed laughable.
"Breeders whose Pokémon can no longer fight, please return them to their Poké Balls and leave the battlefield immediately," Denver called out, noticing some trainers reaching for second Pokémon in desperation. His warning prevented further embarrassment and ensured fairness.
Defeated breeders, their confidence shattered, recalled their Pokémon and left the field, returning to camp with slumped shoulders. Meanwhile, Chris smirked in mild disappointment. He had hoped they would send out additional Pokémon, giving Venusaur more experience to level up further. Currently at level 58, Venusaur was already catching up to the core members of Chris's main team.
For rivals whose Pokémon were barely level 30 and often unevolved, facing such an opponent was less a battle and more an inevitable loss. For Chris, this was just another step in Venusaur's incredible journey.
"Use one more move to count me as a loser!" shouted one of the remaining trainers, clearly frustrated.
Chris smirked. "Venusaur, let's show them what we've got—use Frenzy Plant!"
Venusaur roared as it summoned its ultimate Grass-type move, Frenzy Plant. Massive, glowing roots erupted from the ground, surging forward in all directions. The attack, the most powerful Grass-type move in terms of base power, reached 150 and unleashed a destructive force that overwhelmed the Fire-type Pokémon—most of them under level 30. The outcome was unsurprising: the opponents were down in an instant, completely unable to endure the power of the level 53 Totem Venusaur.
The battlefield was silent, the outcome indisputable. "Hmph," Chris said, leaning back against Venusaur's broad back as the Pokémon turned. "Let's find some other trainers to battle."
With that, Chris set off to "clean up," perched on Venusaur like a general riding into battle.
In the shadows, several trainers who had abstained from the earlier battle watched uneasily. Among them were Xavier and Kaison, both students from Chris's school. They had avoided intervening—not out of malice but because they considered the odds impossible from the start. Joining a futile fight against more than 30 trainers, all targeting Chris, seemed foolish. They had rationalized their inaction as practical, but now, the aftermath left a bitter taste.
Chris had not only won but obliterated his opponents with a single move. The air between Xavier and Kaison was heavy with awkwardness.
"Let's avoid him for now," Kaison muttered. "We're from the same school; he won't come after us immediately."
He tried to console himself with the fact that, at the very least, their shared affiliation might grant them some leniency. As long as Chris was busy eliminating other breeders, they could secure a quarterfinal spot without directly crossing paths.
Xavier, however, remained silent, his face tense and his hands trembling within his sleeves. He stared at Chris and his Venusaur, comparing himself once again to his rival. As someone who had long considered Chris his equal—or perhaps his competition—this moment struck harder than any battle loss.
Even his Lucario, one of his most trusted Pokémon, had watched the scene unfold without a single challenge to Venusaur's dominance. It was a sobering realization.
Xavier couldn't help but think about the gap. His Lucario, a Pokémon he'd been training for over six months, was no match for Chris's Venusaur—a Pokémon Chris had only trained for a month. The disparity in results gnawed at him.
What have I been doing with my time? Xavier wondered, a weight settling in his chest as the reality of Chris's monstrous skills as a breeder became undeniable.