Back on the battlefield, Netero let out a small laugh, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "Ho ho ho… Larry, I must thank you." His tone was calm, but his stance was sharper than ever. His fingers flexed, his right palm subtly shifting into the shape of a blade. "You've given this old man something to look forward to."
"First Hand—Ichino Te." His palm cut through the air like a blade, slicing toward Tyranitar in a flawless arc.
Larry's eyes flickered, catching the attack in time. "Tyranitar! Rock Slide!" The moment the command left his lips, Tyranitar stomped its foot into the ground, sending massive boulders shooting into the sky. They hovered for a fraction of a second before plummeting down in an avalanche of raw force, each rock thick with condensed aura.
From a distance, it looked like an entire mountain was collapsing all at once. The sheer density of the attack created a natural barrier, an impenetrable wall of destruction standing between Netero and his target.
Then— BANG!!!
The first direct clash between an S-Class beast and the world's strongest martial artist. A deafening explosion rocked the battlefield, the shockwave rippling outward like a detonation. The ground beneath them cracked and cratered under the sheer force, sending tremors through the land. Dust and debris filled the air, a massive cloud swallowing the battlefield in chaos. And yet—this was only the beginning. Netero moved again. Second Hand. Third Hand. The attacks came in rapid succession, an unrelenting storm of palm strikes so fast they blurred together into a singular force of destruction.
But Tyranitar was unmoved. It didn't retreat. Didn't falter. It pushed forward. The beast's roars split through the air, shaking the earth itself. With each incoming strike, Tyranitar met Netero's blows head-on, responding with its own devastating attacks. Brute Force. Earthquake.
Each time, the battlefield shattered, sending shockwaves outward. Some of the attacks missed, but the ones that landed tore through the landscape, creating massive craters in the already broken ground. For the first time in years, Netero found himself challenged. And it was exhilarating. He dodged, weaving through the devastation, but even he couldn't escape unscathed. A jagged tear appeared in his clothes. The dust that had settled on his beard earlier had grown darker, clinging to the sweat forming on his skin. His breaths were measured, his expression unreadable. Then, as if amused by his own predicament, he let out a quiet chuckle. Half of his beard was gone. But his battle spirit burned brighter than ever.
The exchange between them continued, the war of speed vs. power reaching new heights. Netero's movements were fluid, his reflexes flawless. He danced through the battlefield, each palm strike carrying the weight of his entire life's training.
Tyranitar, however, was a living fortress. No matter how many times Netero struck, it stood firm, answering every attack with sheer, brute force. The two forces clashed again and again, neither willing to yield. And Larry—watching from the side—couldn't stop the grin forming on his lips.
At this point, the battle had reached a deadlock. Both sides were evenly matched in raw power, but Tyranitar's sheer durability made Netero appear more worn down. Blow after blow, the beast withstood every attack, and by the time Netero reached his 98th move, he realized something unsettling—Tyranitar was still barely affected. His lips twitched slightly, his brows furrowing for the first time since the fight began. He had to do something bigger. Taking a deep breath, Netero shifted his stance.
The 99th Hand. Unlike the previous 98 moves, which were executed individually with brief pauses in between, the 99th move was a culmination of all previous strikes—unleashed in rapid succession with zero delay. It required a massive surge of Nen, the execution so fast and overwhelming that its destructive force was exponentially increased. As he clasped his hands together in the stance of the Demon Seal, his entire body radiated an even more intense golden aura. Nen surged wildly around him, forming a dazzling light that illuminated the battlefield.
Then, in a split second, a storm of countless palms shot forward, each strike containing the full power of an individual technique. Larry watched as a wall of attacks rushed toward them, each hand different from the last, all converging at once. But he remained calm, completely unfazed. It was time to show the old man just how terrifying Pokémon techniques could be.
Netero's 99th Style hit in full force, the barrage of strikes crashing down like a divine punishment. The battlefield trembled under the sheer intensity of the attack, the surrounding landscape obliterated in an instant. The air itself roared as shockwaves spread outward, kicking up a dust storm that swallowed the entire area. By the time the onslaught ceased, Netero was gasping for breath. His chest rose and fell heavily, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. For the first time in the fight, he looked his age. The legendary chairman—who had once thrown ten thousand punches daily just for the sake of training—was now showing signs of exhaustion. If not for the utter devastation around him, one might almost believe he was just an old man struggling to catch his breath. But as the dust settled, his expectant gaze locked onto Tyranitar, searching for the aftermath of his 99th Style. And then he saw it. His expression stiffened. Because standing there, untouched, was the exact same Tyranitar as before the attack.
Netero's eyes widened as the last traces of golden light faded around his hands. Tyranitar remained motionless, completely unscathed. Only now did the reason become clear. A faint cracking sound echoed in the silence. In front of Tyranitar, the remnants of a light green barrier shimmered before splintering into fragments, dissolving into the air like shattered glass. A defensive skill. Protect.
Larry had commanded Tyranitar to activate Protect, an ability that completely nullified any direct attack. In this world, its description had been slightly altered to fit Nen principles. "By consuming a large amount of aura, Pokémon can create an impenetrable, full-body barrier capable of blocking any direct attack. However, the longer it lasts, the greater the energy consumption." And the result? Even the 99th Style, a technique meant to bring an end to the battle, had done absolutely nothing.
The only signs of battle on Tyranitar were a few scratches and some dust clinging to its dark green steel-like skin. Netero could no longer maintain his usual composure. His half-torn beard trembled slightly as he stared at the beast before him. "Even the 99th Style… didn't leave a mark?!" A trace of disbelief flickered across his face.
Would he have to use Zero Hand?
His instincts screamed at him. The final technique, his last trump card, was his most powerful move—but at a heavy cost. It required him to pour all of his remaining aura into a single, all-consuming attack. Not only would it drain him completely, but it could also shorten his lifespan.
However, that wasn't the problem. The real issue was… Even if he used Zero Hand, would it be enough? For the first time in decades, a seed of doubt took root in his mind. His hesitation did not go unnoticed.