The road leading out of Kaer Vaelen stretched ahead, but before stepping into the unknown, memories tugged at both Riven and Ethan's hearts. Their minds wandered back to the academy days—the place where two very different boys had crossed paths.
It hadn't been an instant friendship. Riven, the quiet and sometimes awkward boy with a determined gleam in his eyes, had caught Ethan's attention early on. Ethan, ever the charmer, wore a smile as easily as breathing, masking the sharper edges of a soul hardened by tragedy. Over time, they paired up in battle classes, laughed during lunch breaks, and studied strategies late into the night, pushing each other to improve. Slowly, trust was forged—not through grand gestures, but through hundreds of small moments where they leaned on each other without needing to speak.
Ethan's past had always been a quiet shadow trailing behind him. It wasn't until much later that Riven learned the truth: Ethan's family had been killed by raiders while traveling between cities. Alone and bitter, Ethan had drifted for a time before finding his way to Kaer Vaelen's Academy, desperate for a new future. Trust didn't come easily to him, but something about Riven—his stubborn honesty, his quiet loyalty—broke through Ethan's walls piece by piece.
Sitting under the academy's old oak tree on their last day of classes, they had talked about their dreams. Riven spoke of strength—of uncovering the truth about his brother, of protecting those he cared about. Ethan's dreams were more elusive: freedom, power, the ability to control his own destiny without depending on anyone. Yet underneath the differences, both boys shared the same burning desire—to become someone no one could ignore, to etch their names into the world.
As they walked side by side now, they bantered lightly about the teams they dreamed of building.
"I'm thinking balance," Riven mused, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes. "Steel-types, maybe an electric type later on. Build a team that covers each other's weaknesses."
"Pffft, boring!" Ethan laughed, hands behind his head. "I'm going full offense. Speed and power, baby. Hit 'em hard before they know what's coming."
"You'll regret it when someone tanks your hit and counters," Riven teased.
"And you'll regret it when someone dances circles around your tank squad," Ethan shot back, both of them laughing as the town gates finally loomed ahead.
Their steps slowed. Beyond the gates lay the world—the wilds, the cities, the future. And there was only one way to properly send each other off: an official match.
They turned to face each other, the early sun casting long shadows at their feet. It was time.
The dusty wind swirled around them as they stood firm, the air tense with anticipation. For a moment, neither spoke. Then, with a silent nod, they both reached for the Pokéballs at their belts.
"Let's do this, Aron!" Riven called, tossing his Pokéball into the air.
With a bright flash, the small but sturdy steel Pokémon landed heavily on the ground, letting out a determined growl.
Across from him, Ethan smirked confidently. "You're up, Sandile!"
Sandile emerged with a burst of light, snapping its jaws eagerly, eyes gleaming.
"Aron, start with Tackle!" Riven shouted.
Aron charged forward like a tiny juggernaut, kicking up dust.
"Sandile, Sand Attack!" Ethan countered.
A sudden spray of dirt caught Aron's eyes, causing him to stumble, blinking rapidly.
"Now Bite!"
Sandile lunged, teeth sinking into Aron's armor.
"Shake it off! Headbutt!"
Aron twisted violently, slamming into Sandile and knocking it back several feet.
Both trainers' faces were tense now, breathing fast.
"Sandile, Leer!" Ethan barked.
Sandile's eyes flashed menacingly, causing Aron to falter again.
"Don't let up! Metal Claw!" Riven shouted.
Aron's claws shimmered and slashed forward—
"Counter with Mud-Slap!"
Mud splattered against Aron's faceplates again, blinding him. Sandile darted in under the cover, jaws closing hard with a second Bite.
Aron staggered, struggling to stay up, but the damage was too much. He sank to one knee, then collapsed.
Riven's heart twisted painfully, but he managed a small smile as he recalled Aron gently. "You fought great, buddy," he murmured.
Across the field, Ethan let out a breathless laugh of relief, kneeling to pat his victorious Sandile before recalling it too.
They met in the middle, bumping fists—a silent acknowledgment of everything this battle meant.
"You're strong, Riven," Ethan said quietly.
"You too," Riven replied, voice thick with emotion.
For a moment, they stood there, two boys on the cusp of something far larger than either of them could imagine.
Without another word, they turned toward different roads. Ethan headed east, toward the rising sun; Riven to the winding forest trails.
They didn't look back.
They didn't need to.
Somewhere deep inside, both boys knew they would meet again—stronger, fiercer, and carrying the weight of everything the world would throw at them.
And when that day came, they would battle again, not just as friends—but as rivals destined to carve their mark into history.