Capítulo 35: Chapter 35: Trial's End
With blinding speed, Machoke executed Soru, dashing forward with no regard for the consequences of its momentum.
"Arbok, one final strike—Iron Tail!"
Arbok unleashed two Acid Spray attacks before twisting its body to enhance the power of its Iron Tail. However, the strike, though forceful, failed to provide Arbok with the defense it desperately needed. A searing pain coursed through its tail, spreading throughout its entire body. In that moment, the proverb like a praying mantis trying to stop a chariot flashed through Arbok's mind.
Seizing Arbok's tail, Machoke used its brute strength to swing the serpent-like Pokémon around as if it were nothing more than a ragdoll.
Dizzy and wracked with pain, Arbok quickly succumbed, losing all ability to fight. Yet, Machoke didn't stop, its menacing gaze fixed firmly on Akita.
As Akita hesitated, his hand moving toward his second Poké Ball, the fierce glint in Machoke's eye made him freeze. He didn't doubt for a moment that if he dared act, Machoke's iron fists would be upon him.
The scene was brutal. Arbok lay on the ground, scales shattered and streaked with blood, resembling nothing more than a broken rope. Its lifeless form bore no signs of vitality.
Seeing Machoke approach, step by step, Akita decided to gamble. But before he could release his second Pokémon, a sharp pain exploded in his arm. Numbness spread as Machoke grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him into the air.
"Victory or death... Fine, I admit defeat!" Akita growled, his gaze locking onto Machoke as if trying to see Ron through the Pokémon's form. Refusing to concede, his uninjured hand reached for another Poké Ball.
A quick glance from Ron was all the instruction Machoke needed. With a swift motion, Machoke snapped Akita's neck. The Poké Ball slipped from his lifeless hand, clattering to the ground. Akita hadn't even managed to release his second Pokémon.
What should have been a fierce clash between evenly matched opponents had devolved into a one-sided massacre. The surrounding Team Rocket members watched without surprise. Though they were impressed by Ron's strength, their expressions remained icy.
"Congratulations on passing the trial," one Rocket member said coldly. "The final challenge awaits."
The words carried no warmth. As the battle room door opened, surviving trial participants were ushered in. They were bound tightly, their mouths gagged, leaving them powerless to resist.
Arranged in a neat row on the floor, each captive had a sheet of paper placed beside them. A Team Rocket member set up a camera, pointing it at Ron and Machoke.
"Your final test is simple: kill them. If you fail, you die. Begin."
Ron showed no surprise or hesitation. Wordlessly, he pulled out a dagger and approached the captives.
The choice was no choice at all—his life or theirs.
As Ron drew near, he noticed that the papers contained the captives' personal information. Most weren't Team Rocket members; they were law-abiding citizens under the League's protection. Killing them would brand Ron as a criminal beyond redemption, should this ever be exposed.
But the weight of future consequences didn't sway Ron's decision. Ignoring their pleading eyes, he plunged the dagger into the first captive's heart.
In the Pokémon world, craftsmanship extended even to cold weapons. This dagger, though simple, was honed to lethal sharpness. It pierced the heart with ease, extinguishing life in moments.
If Ron lacked a strong mental constitution, the act could have broken him. Yet, with the first act of violence done, the subsequent executions came easier. One by one, he ended their lives, each strike precise and merciless. The Team Rocket members recorded everything.
When he reached Montsong, a fellow trial participant he had once fought, Ron paused. In a twisted show of kindness, he saved Monsong for last, giving the man a few extra moments to remember everything he'd seen.
The dagger plunged into Montsong's chest. After wiping his hands clean on Montsong's clothes, Ron left the bloodstained weapon embedded in the body.
"Well done," a Rocket member said. "You've passed. Your reward will be delivered shortly."
Despite their words, two Rocket grunts flanked Ron as he left, their presence a clear reminder that he was under constant surveillance. How many more eyes watched from the shadows, Ron couldn't guess.
Outnumbered and outmatched, Ron harbored no illusions of escape. He returned to his room, washed his hands thoroughly, and lay on the bed to rest. There was no sign of the massacre he had just carried out on his face.
After all, if those people hadn't died, it would have been him. Framing it this way made the situation easier to accept.
Hours later, a cloaked figure wearing a silver half-mask entered Ron's room. The Rocket grunts stationed outside lowered their heads respectfully as the man passed, a testament to his authority.
Pushing open the door, the man saw Ron sitting calmly, unshaken by the intrusion.
The man's sharp gaze assessed Ron's composure, his satisfaction hidden behind an impassive mask.
"I'll introduce myself," he began, his raspy voice carrying authority. "My name is Shadow, one of the two captains of the Ghost Corps, Giovanni's personal guard. From now on, you're part of the Ghost Corps."
Shadow continued, "Your reward will come later. Now, let's discuss your mission.
"The purpose of this trial was to select someone for a critical task: infiltrating the League."
Shadow paused, giving Ron a moment to process the information before pressing on.
"You don't need to worry about the how. Once inside, you're not expected to act unless called upon. The stronger you become, the more valuable you'll be. You understand the implications, I'm sure."
"And don't entertain the idea of defecting to the League," Shadow warned. "Not only do you carry the weight of your actions today, but Giovanni's reputation ensures you wouldn't live long enough to regret it."
"I'll give you three minutes to ask any questions."
Ron's mind focused on one thought: This man is powerful. The gap between their strength felt insurmountable, a chasm too vast to bridge.
As for the mission, Ron knew he had no choice but to comply. For now, survival was all that mattered. Whatever came next, he would face it as it came. After all, as long as he grew stronger, the future held no fear for him.
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