I, Gary, Want to Become a Pokemon Master

Chapter 664 - 664: Gary vs. Maya

Bang!!Breloom hit the rocky ground hard enough to send grit skittering across the arena floor. Its limbs jerked once, then went slack.

Its eyes spun in helpless circles, the light fading into a dazed haze as it tried—and failed—to push itself upright.

"Bre… lo…" The cry came out small, more air than sound.

Across from it, Rhyperior stood like a fortress that had barely noticed the collision. Frost still clung to its knuckles from the Ice Punch, sparkling pale against the harsh rock terrain.

But the green haze of Sleep Powder drifted in thick, glittering waves around its face and shoulders, settling into the seams of its armor like pollen.

The referee raised a flag. "Breloom is unable to battle. Rhyperior wins!"

The audience's roar surged and broke like waves against the stadium walls, a mess of cheers, whistles, and excited chatter. Maya remained frozen in place for half a second, staring at her fallen Breloom as though sheer willpower might drag it back to its feet.

It still got the powder off…

That thought hit her hard, sharp enough to sting. Breloom had been outmatched from the start. She had known it the moment Gary sent out Rhyperior—his famous powerhouse, the same Pokémon she'd watched bulldoze opponents at the Indigo Plateau Conference years ago. She hadn't imagined Breloom would win. She hadn't even imagined it would last long.

So she'd chosen the only path she could see: trade everything for a single opening.

The host's voice boomed over the field, lively and quick to turn the moment into spectacle. "That was intense! Trainer Maya used Sleep Powder even as Breloom was being hit! The Sleep Powder landed successfully, but Breloom went down anyway—was that really worth it?"

The camera drones drifted closer, capturing Rhyperior's heavy-lidded expression as the green powder swirled around it. Its breathing slowed. Its posture sagged just slightly, the weight of sleep pulling at its massive frame.

Then it happened. Rhyperior's eyes closed.

A deep, rumbling exhale vibrated through its armored chest like distant thunder, and the giant Pokémon sank into sleep.

"Rhy… pio… rr…" A slow, sleepy sound.

Gary's eyes narrowed. He understood Maya's plan immediately. She knew Breloom couldn't beat Rhyperior, so she sacrificed it to buy tempo for the next Pokémon.

In a Gym battle, trapping the opponent's ace in sleep could be a win condition. In the right context, it could flip a match—especially if the Gym Leader wasn't allowed to switch.

But this was the League. This was a 3v3 battle where Gary could swap freely.

Gary's expression didn't change, but his thoughts moved with crisp clarity. If she sends something that can punish a sleeping target, I'll just recall Rhyperior. She's burning resources for an advantage I can reset instantly.

He glanced at Maya. She stood very straight, hands clenched so tightly around her Poké Balls that her knuckles had turned pale.

Still… she's trying.

Gary respected that more than any flashy move. But it also meant he couldn't relax.

Sometimes the most desperate plays were the most dangerous—because they were unconcerned with efficiency. They were built on one thing: forcing something—anything—to happen.

In the stands, a different kind of tension rose—sharp, anxious, and oddly personal.

"This Maya looks so innocent—why would she do something that dumb?"

"Even if you can't win, at least fight clean! What's with the Sleep Powder?"

"This is so annoying! If Gary switches Pokémon, we're done!"

Someone yelled louder than the rest, voice cracking with panic.

"Master Gary, please! Don't switch! Rhyperior's tough—he can take a few hits!"

A chorus of groans and nervous laughter answered. It wasn't hard to guess why. In every League there were fans, and in every League there were gamblers who talked like fans and bet like predators. They didn't care about Maya's effort. They cared about their odds.

Gary heard them, and his mouth twitched—half irritation, half disbelief.

They're acting like they're the ones battling.

He didn't look up. He didn't acknowledge them. He kept his attention on the field, on Maya, on what came next.

Maya swallowed once, then drew a new Poké Ball. Her voice was clear when she spoke, but there was a tiny tremor in it—like the last note of a violin string after a hard pluck.

"Gothitelle… get ready to join the battle!" She threw the ball.

Light snapped into existence.

"Gothi!"

Gothitelle appeared with eerie grace, its black dress-like body and ribboned limbs perfectly still, as though it had stepped out of shadow rather than emerged from a Poké Ball.

[Gothitelle ♀]

[Level: 50]

[Potential: Elite-tier]

Gary's eyes widened a fraction. Gothitelle?

That wasn't on the list he'd reviewed last night. Breloom, Lopunny, Infernape—those were the three she'd shown in qualifiers.

Gary's reflex was immediate. He reached for Rhyperior's Poké Ball.

"Come back—"

A red beam shot out, lancing toward Rhyperior's sleeping form.

But the instant the recall light touched it, the shadows at Rhyperior's feet thickened. They stretched like ink, crawling up around its ankles and locking it in place.

The recall beam flickered, fought, then failed—broken by a force that wasn't physical, but absolute. Rhyperior remained on the field.

The audience erupted. "The recall failed?!"

"The Rhyperior can't be withdrawn!"

The host's voice shot upward, thrilled by the twist. "Rhyperior can't be recalled! Trainer Maya's Gothitelle has Shadow Tag!"

A wave of excitement surged through the stands. The gamblers who had been moments away from despair suddenly sounded like they'd been revived.

"Yes! That's it!"

"Maya's got bite!"

"No wonder she sacrificed Breloom!"

"Stable! Stable!"

Gary exhaled through his nose, the smallest sign of frustration slipping through his composure.

Shadow Tag. It was a clean trap. It didn't care about fairness or "proper" battling. It simply said: you're here now, so you stay. And it meant Gary had no choice but to play the hand he'd been dealt.

Maya's eyes flicked to Rhyperior—still asleep—and then to Gary. Her cheeks were still faintly pink, but her gaze was steady now, sharpened by necessity.

It worked. She didn't smile, but there was a spark of relief in her chest. I forced him to stay. Now… I have to make it count.

Gary's thoughts were calm despite the situation.

Fine. If I can't switch, I'll endure. If she wants to punish sleep, she'll have to punish a Rhyperior.

Maya lifted her hand, voice controlled. "Gothitelle, use Nasty Plot."

"Gothi…"

Gothitelle's eyes glimmered. A strange, mischievous energy spiraled around its head like curling smoke—dark thoughts made tangible.

Gary watched.

Rhyperior, meanwhile, slept peacefully—too peacefully. Its chest rose and fell with slow certainty. Its heavy arms hung at its sides, claws relaxed. If not for its sheer size, it would've looked almost harmless.

Gary spoke without raising his voice, like he was addressing a stubborn teammate during training rather than a sleeping behemoth in the middle of a League match. "Rhyperior, if you don't wake up, you're going to lose."

Rhyperior's response was immediate and profoundly unhelpful. "Zzz… zzz…" It leaned forward slightly, snoring like a boulder settling into soft earth.

The audience laughed. Maya didn't. Her lips pressed together. She could feel time slipping away like sand through fingers.

Sleep wasn't guaranteed to last long, but it also wasn't guaranteed to end soon. Every second Rhyperior stayed asleep was an opportunity… but also a risk.

If it woke up too soon, Gothitelle might not survive the counterattack long enough to justify Breloom's sacrifice.

Maya tightened her grip and spoke again. "Gothitelle, use Nasty Plot."

Again, the sinister spiraling aura gathered. Gothitelle's calm face didn't change, but its psychic pressure did—rising, compressing, sharpening into something that felt like a needle poised above skin.

Gary's eyes narrowed. Two boosts. That's dangerous. He could almost hear the invisible math: Gothitelle's Psychic-type moves would now hit far harder than their level suggested. And Rhyperior's Special Defense had never been its strongest wall.

Gary clicked his tongue softly, then tried a different angle—something aimed less at logic and more at pride.

"Rhyperior," he said, voice still calm, "Garchomp is going to surpass you. I'm going to train it."

For the first time, Rhyperior's snore stuttered.

"Zzz…?" Its eyelids twitched. Its body shifted. A low, irritated rumble vibrated in its chest. But it still didn't wake.

Maya's breath caught. It almost woke up. Panic flickered in her stomach like a match struck in darkness. She couldn't risk a third Nasty Plot.

If Rhyperior woke while Gothitelle was still setting up, the battle would flip instantly.

Maya raised her hand sharply, voice tight with urgency. "Gothitelle, use Future Sight—then use Psychic!"

"Gothi!"

Gothitelle's eyes flashed with a blue halo. A pulse of power shot forward—not toward Rhyperior's body, but toward a point unseen, a place that didn't exist yet. Future Sight was like sending a dagger into tomorrow and trusting it to find the same throat later.

Then Gothitelle lifted its arms, and raw Psychic-type force erupted outward in a heavy wave. The rock terrain shuddered.

A nearby stone formation cracked, then collapsed in a cascade of rubble. Dust rose in a thick cloud. Invisible pressure slammed forward like a tidal surge, striking Rhyperior's sleeping body.

Bang!!

Rhyperior slid backward several meters, its claws scraping deep furrows into the stone.

Scratches tore across the ground in messy, violent lines—proof that even asleep, its mass was tremendous.

"RHY—!" A hoarse sound tore out of it, halfway between pain and anger. Its eyes snapped open. Not fully focused yet, but awake.

Gary's gaze sharpened. Finally. Rhyperior's head lifted, slow and heavy. It blinked, as if the world had changed during its nap.

Maya didn't give it room to breathe. "Don't let Rhyperior react—use Flatter!"

"Gothi!"

A shimmering psychic pulse shot outward—sweet, insidious, like praise turned into poison. The wave hit Rhyperior before it could fully steady itself.

Rhyperior's posture jerked. Its eyes glazed. Then it roared—wild, unfocused, like a creature pulled halfway into rage and halfway into nonsense. It had fallen into confusion.

Gary's brow throbbed. Sleep into confusion… She layered it perfectly.

Maya's chest rose and fell quickly. It worked. Now it can't respond cleanly.

Gary's voice cut through the tension. "Rhyperior, use Sandstorm!"

"ROAR!"

Rhyperior threw back its head and let out a thunderous roar—then, instead of calling the sandstorm as ordered, it slammed its fists into the ground with furious abandon.

The entire battlefield trembled. Cracks spiderwebbed outward. A violent Earthquake ripple surged through the rock terrain, shaking loose more rubble and making the arena feel like it was trying to break apart under their feet.

The crowd screamed—some excited, some startled.

Maya's eyes widened. It didn't use Sandstorm—confusion. Her instincts screamed at her to avoid direct contact with that kind of raw force.

"Float!" she ordered, voice sharp with urgency.

Gothitelle reacted instantly. Its body lifted, rising into the air on a cushion of psychic force. The Earthquake ripple passed beneath it, shattering small stones and jolting the terrain, but Gothitelle remained untouched.

At the same time, Gothitelle cut a wave of psychic energy downward—an invisible blade of pressure aimed straight at Rhyperior.

Bang!

The psychic strike hit.

"RHY…!" Rhyperior roared again, staggering.

Its armor absorbed much of the impact, but the force still rattled through its body, pushing at its weaker Special Defense like a crowbar under a cracked door.

Confusion made it worse. It couldn't even brace properly. And yet—it remained standing.

Maya's frustration rose hot in her chest. Why won't you fall? How is it still standing after that? In her head, she replayed the calculations.

Her voice came again, tight with disbelief. "Psychic!"

"Gothi!"

The air pulsed, and the force struck Rhyperior's hard armor again, sending vibrations through its plating. Rhyperior grunted, taking the blow.

It didn't look dramatically injured—its body didn't bleed, and its armor didn't crack in an obvious way—but the subtle signs were there. A heavier breath. A slight delay in its movement. A tiny wobble in its stance.

Gary watched closely. It's taking damage. Special hits are getting through. He glanced at Rhyperior's eyes—still glassy, still unfocused.

"Aren't you awake yet?" Gary muttered, frustration restrained but real.

Confusion didn't always last long, but it didn't always end quickly either. And Rhyperior's power meant little if it couldn't aim it.

Gary drew in a slow breath. "Rhyperior, use Earthquake!"

"ROAR!"

This time, Rhyperior lowered its body and crashed toward the ground—hard. Its bulk slammed into the rock terrain, and for a heartbeat it looked like it was trying to bury itself inside the battlefield.

The ground shook again. Then Rhyperior vanished beneath the surface, disappearing into the cracks and broken stone as if it had forced its way underground.

Gary's lips curled faintly. "Good." If it's underground, Gothitelle can't target it easily.

Maya's heart jumped. It hid?

Her mind reacted fast—she understood what Gary was doing. Rhyperior couldn't land a precise hit while confused, so Gary had moved it into a position where it could attack from below and reduce incoming Psychic pressure.

Maya steadied herself, eyes narrowing as she watched the ground. Then she gave an order that sounded simple, but carried careful intent.

"Gothitelle, don't move. Use Future Sight."

"Gothi…"

Gothitelle's eyes glowed blue again. The future strike was launched—an unseen timer ticking down beyond the present moment. Maya's reasoning was clear.

Rhyperior would feel vibrations. If Gothitelle stayed still, it couldn't easily lock on. And if Rhyperior remained confused, it might forget the exact spot Gothitelle was in anyway.

Blue light pulsed once more around Gothitelle's eyes as the Future Sight energy was sent into tomorrow.

Then—

Bang!

The ground broke open. A jagged eruption of rock and dust exploded upward, and Rhyperior burst out—massive, sudden, terrifyingly close. Only three meters in front of Gothitelle.

Maya's eyes widened so fast it almost hurt. Too close—!

Gary's voice was sharp, decisive. "Megahorn!"

"ROAR—!"

Rhyperior's drill-like horn spun, coated in fierce, green-tinted Bug-type energy. The rotation whined harshly over the stadium noise.

Driven by momentum and rage, Rhyperior surged forward like a battering ram.

And it hit Gothitelle—directly.