After the conclusion of the first round of matches, the second round swiftly followed, with only a five-minute break in between.

  But for Snivy, which had expended next to no energy by using just two moves, this break was almost unnecessary.

  The second match, however, was decidedly uneventful.

  Ethan’s opponent was the Trainer of the Spearow from earlier.

  As soon as the boy saw that his matchup was against Ethan, his face visibly fell.

  Even though Spearow technically had a type advantage over Snivy, the boy lacked any confidence that his Pokémon could evade Snivy’s devastating Vine Whip.

  In fact, it wasn’t just him—

  All the contestants in Group 9 wore similarly grim expressions.

  Having witnessed Ethan’s overwhelming performance in the first round, their hopes of making it through the group stage had taken a significant hit.

  Most of them had already resigned themselves to the inevitable outcome.

  And so, Ethan calmly led Snivy onto the field, both of them exuding quiet confidence.

  As expected, Ethan’s match against Spearow was over in the blink of an eye.

  Spearow tried its best to dodge, flying swiftly around the field, but it couldn’t escape Snivy’s Vine Whip. With one precise strike, it was sent crashing to the ground.

  If this had been a battle in the wild, Spearow might have had a chance to evade.

  But in the confined indoor arena, there was nowhere to run.

  Next came the third round.

  The opposing Pokémon? A Pikachu.

  Ethan had always held a certain respect for Pikachu—it was hard not to after all the legends surrounding it.

  But not every Pikachu could be the fabled "Pika-God," capable of pulling off miraculous wins against type disadvantages.

  This one was no exception.

  With minimal effort, Snivy used its vines to entangle the Electric-type and promptly tossed it off the field.

  And so, by mid-morning, all the group stage matches were complete.

  Nine contestants emerged victorious from their respective groups.

  The tournament organizers announced a lunch break, complete with complimentary meals and a two-hour rest period.

  As soon as the matches ended, Emma came bounding over, practically glowing with excitement.

  “Ethan! I made it through my group!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

  Ethan nodded, unsurprised. “Good job,” he said simply, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  He had expected no less.

  Ethan had observed the situation in nearly every group during the matches.

  Emma’s luck wasn’t bad at all.

  In her group, the stronger Pokémon were largely countered by Squirtle’s type advantage, while the weaker ones simply couldn’t dodge its precise Water Gun.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Her performance was decent, and so was Squirtle’s.

  But in Emma’s eyes?

  That was an understatement.

  Her first-round success had given her an enormous confidence boost.

  She was already daydreaming about herself as a top-tier Pokémon Trainer, standing proudly on the grandest stage—the Pokémon Championship—battling alongside the Elite Eight Masters and emerging victorious.

  Ethan couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

  Emma’s dream had always been to become a Pokémon Master, standing under the spotlight, with crowds roaring in admiration for her and her Pokémon.

  Even if her efforts often followed the pattern of “three days of hard work, two days of slacking,” she never gave up on the fantasy.

  But Ethan didn’t see anything wrong with a little imagination and ambition.

  When you’re young, who doesn’t dream of being a hero in their own story?

  Whether those dreams came true or not didn’t matter as much.

  What mattered was the journey—the moments of triumph and failure that would become cherished memories later in life.

  Two hours passed in the blink of an eye.

  Compared to the tightly packed schedule of the morning matches, the afternoon’s proceedings felt far more relaxed.

  With only nine contestants left, the tournament required just four battles to determine the semifinalists.

  To save time, all four matches would take place simultaneously.

  As for the ninth contestant? They would advance directly into the top five via a random draw.

  Ten minutes before the start of the matches…

  In the 7th group’s contestant seating, the organizer of the entire event—the owner of Wangwang Supermarket, Harrison—surveyed the remaining nine Trainers who had emerged victorious from the group stage.

  Well, eight Trainers, to be precise, as he excluded his own child from this count.

  The other eight seemed perfectly ordinary at first glance.

  By all accounts, this was the kind of predictable and manageable lineup he preferred.

  Yet, one particular Trainer and their Pokémon unsettled him.

  That Trainer was Ethan, from Group 9, and his Snivy.

  The four matches progressed swiftly.

  Other than using Vine Whip and Leaf Blade in the first round, Ethan’s Snivy relied solely on Vine Whip to dispatch its opponents in the following matches.

  Though Harrison wasn’t a Pokémon battle expert, his instincts as a businessman told him one thing:

  This newcomer Trainer, Ethan, was holding back.

  Whether for the sake of the prize money or to preserve his reputation, Ethan was deliberately hiding his true strength.

  Unable to shake his unease, Harrison called over Ice.

  “What’s the matter, boss?”

  The commentator floated over on his Aegislash, a look of mild curiosity on his face.

  “I want to see the matchup arrangement,” Harrison said directly.

  “Huh?”

  Ice raised an eyebrow but dutifully retrieved the matchup chart.

  As he handed it over, he asked, “Why the sudden concern, boss? The matchups were arranged exactly how you wanted. There’s only ten minutes left until the next round starts.”

  “There’s one contestant I’m not entirely confident about,” Harrison muttered, scanning the list.

  His brows furrowed. “Where’s that Ethan kid?”

  “Oh, him?” Ice responded casually. “He’s got a bye this round. Didn’t you say earlier to randomize the early matches and save the grand finale for when Lapras can decisively crush whoever’s left?”

  Harrison shook his head firmly. “No, that Snivy hasn’t shown its full strength yet. I can’t get a clear read on it. Here’s what I want—pair Ethan with Kun. His Torchic, with its Fire-type advantage, should be able to push Snivy to its limits.”

  “Uh… alright…”

  A trace of exasperation flashed through Ice’s mind.

  It seemed his plan to keep Ethan’s abilities under wraps for a while longer was falling apart.

  Just as he prepared to ascend and adjust the match arrangements, Harrison called out to him again, this time with a grin plastered across his face.

  “Ice, now, I’m no expert on Pokémon battles, but you and I are the only ones who know about this adjustment. If it works out, I’ll double your fee.”

  Ice paused mid-step, his expression momentarily stunned before breaking into a polite smile.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Really, it’s unnecessary.”

  “It’s only fair,” Harrison replied, still smiling as he nodded enthusiastically.

  As Ice took off to finalize the changes, Harrison’s smile slowly faded.

  I may not know much about battles, he thought, but I understand business.

  In his world, relationships built on mutual interests were the most reliable of all.

  Ah, but this is the age of Trainers, Harrison mused with a sigh.

  That’s why he had to pave the way for his child’s future.

  Five minutes before the next round of matches…

  The nine remaining Trainers were gathered together for the final draw.

  When Kun saw that his opponent was Ethan, he approached with a look of surprise.

  “We’re matched up?”

  Having spent his earlier matches in Field 1, Kun hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening in the other groups.

  But what he hadn’t expected was this:

  The same Ethan who hadn’t even chosen a starter Pokémon before their college entrance exams now possessed a Pokémon capable of making it through the group stage of the Baby Cup.

  “Looks like it,” Ethan replied casually with a shrug, showing little concern.

  Kun let out a soft sigh and patted Ethan’s shoulder as he moved closer. “Man, you really drew the short straw, huh? Don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you,”