Arriving in Blackthorn City felt like stepping through a crack in time.
Calling this place a "city" was generous—it was really a small village nestled high in the mountains, surrounded by mist and forest. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and something older, almost ceremonial. The houses were built in a traditional style, with sharply sloped wooden roofs covered in straw that had darkened from decades, maybe centuries, of mountain rain. Only the Pokémon Center and the Gym to the north gave any hint that the modern world still remembered this place.
Blue walked with steady confidence toward the sacred clan grounds of the Blackthorn family, flipping a Poké Ball casually in one hand. He stopped at the large wooden gate carved with dragons, vines, and ancient sigils he couldn't read. Standing before it was an old man draped in a robe that looked like it had once been white, long ago. Now it was a faded grey, embroidered with curling threads of gold and navy.
The man looked at Blue with an expression that sat somewhere between curiosity and warning.
The Blackthorn Clan's traditions went deep. As far back as Johto's founding, their name had weight. Some said the clan predated the League itself, with roots in the age of clans and blood-bound honor.
"Young one," the gatekeeper said, his voice strong despite his age, "this is not a place for outsiders."
Blue gave a half-smile, taking a slow breath. "Is that so?"
Then, without hesitation, he raised his voice.
"My name is Blue Oak. My dragon and I challenge the Blackthorn clan to an honor duel—for my name, and for what I seek."
The old man's eyes widened slightly, but his composure held.
In the last century, no one had invoked the honor duel. The tradition had been all but forgotten, a relic from a time when clans settled disputes through combat rather than counsel. But the rules were still remembered, etched in scrolls and passed down through the elders. A challenge like this was rare—but it could not be ignored.
Wordlessly, the gatekeeper turned and entered a nearby hut. Moments later, he returned with a large ceremonial drum. Its surface was worn but still intact, and the sound it produced as he began to strike it echoed through the valley.
Within minutes, villagers emerged from their homes. Old and young, trainers and elders, they gathered quietly around the central field beyond the gates. It wasn't just curiosity. It was the pull of something ancient awakening. Something sacred.
"This young man," the gatekeeper announced, "has challenged the Blackthorn clan to an honor duel!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. People whispered, glancing at Blue with a mix of surprise, disbelief—and for some, admiration.
"Do you have a dragon to back your words, challenger?" the elder asked.
Blue nodded, pressing the Poké Ball's button. A flash of light, and Kingdra stood at his side, its elegant, serpentine form shimmering slightly in the sunlight.
The elder studied the creature, then gave a solemn nod. "You have tamed the dragon of the sea. You are worthy to invoke the duel."
He struck the drum again, slower this time, and the clan members began to hum an old chant under their breath, low and melodic. It was not a song of joy or of fear, but one of acknowledgment.
"What is it you seek?" the gatekeeper asked.
Blue hesitated—just for a moment. "Clair Blackthorn."
The crowd stilled. Reactions rippled: a few surprised glances, a couple of narrowed eyes. Tension rose, subtle but sharp.
Should have phrased that better, Blue thought.
A few quiet laughs broke the silence. Then the elder chuckled, a low, weathered sound.
"So it is for a woman," he said. "It has been a long time since one challenged us for such a reason. You are bold."
The elder raised his arms. "As keeper of our traditions, I accept your challenge. But know this—should you fail, your dragon is forfeit, and your name will be bound to our service until your final breath."
Blue blinked. Service?
Before he could speak, the crowd shifted again. A woman walked forward, and the people stepped aside without being told. She moved with quiet power, her eyes sharp and unreadable. Her long, pale blue hair was tied back, and her stance was that of someone who never expected to lose.
Clair Blackthorn stopped a few paces from Blue and looked him over.
"You challenged us to an honor duel?" she asked, her tone calm but cutting. "We accept. The Blackthorn clan does not turn away from tradition."
Then she turned her gaze to the elder. "What did he ask of us?"
The old man's expression didn't change, but there was something smug in his voice. "Your hand."
Clair stared at him. Then at Blue. Then back again. For several long seconds, she said nothing.
"…M-My hand?" she repeated, voice quiet.
"That's a misunder—" Blue began, but she interrupted him.
"Very well," she said, her eyes glinting. "You will face our six strongest. One Pokémon each. You may only use the dragon you brought. Defeat them all—and the duel is yours."
The elder stepped forward. "Let the battle begin!"
Then, all eyes turned to Blue. A large circle of spectators formed around him. The first challenger stepped forward—a man in his forties. Without hesitation, he tossed a Poké Ball in front of him.
"I summon you, Dratini!"
The small, serpent-like Pokémon emerged, facing Blue's Kingdra with surprising confidence, as though it could handle what was coming.
"Dratini?" Blue blinked, incredulous. Hadn't they said they were sending their six strongest trainers into this battle? This was… a bit disappointing.
"Uh. Dragon Pulse?"
Dratini was obliterated.
There was simply too large a gap between its level and Kingdra's. No amount of strategy could bridge that kind of difference.
"I accept my defeat!" the man declared, scooping up his KO'd Dratini.
The next challenger was an elderly woman, wearing a smug expression. She summoned her Pokémon with dramatic flair.
"A Dragonair!" she cried. "Do you know how long it takes to evolve a dragon?"
Yes. Yes, Blue did. He was tempted to just point at Kingdra—his fully evolved dragon—but he decided to let the woman finish her speech.
"I trained my Dratini for thirty-four years to finally evolve it into this majestic Dragonair! Look at its beauty! Its might! Its elegance—"
"Dragon Rage."
"Dragonair is unable to continue the battle!" the elder judge announced.
"Third defender, enter the stage!"
The old woman shot Blue a look as if he'd just kicked a Growlithe. "My speech!" she screeched. "You could've let me finish, boy!"
A clansman dragged her away, still muttering.
Next came an elderly man.
"I summon Dragonai—"
"Dragon Breath."
"Dragonair is unable to continue the battle," the elder judge said again, this time sounding tired.
The clan stared at Blue like he was some kind of alien. This was humiliation! How could one outsider mop the floor with the dragons of their prestigious bloodline?
Blue had a simple answer.
Because I'm way too over-leveled.
Training dragons in the real world was a nightmare. Their evolution took forever. For most people, getting a dragon to its final stage was nearly impossible. That's why it was so impressive that Lance had three fully evolved ones.
If you had to quantify it, the average trainer's team hovered around level 20. Above average might hit level 30. A good trainer could reach level 40. Anyone who could push their team to level 50 was a league above—strong enough to beat the Gym Leaders. That kind of trainer was rare.
A Dragonair evolved at level 30, so even owning one was an achievement. Dragonite required level 55. For most trainers, even those who had a Dratini, the final evolution remained a dream.
That was why this clan stood so proudly with their Dragonairs. In their world, that really was impressive.
Blue glanced at Kingdra and sighed.
He was the anomaly here. He had an edge—a cheat, really—in the form of handhelds. Tools that let eight-year-old kids back on Earth become Champions with just their starter. People in this world trained for years, but they lacked the knowledge on how to do it right.
The next challenger stepped up. Of course, it was another Dragonair.
By now, Blue wasn't even paying attention. He let the Dragonair land a few hits. His Kingdra, sluggish on dry land, didn't even flinch. He missed being in the water.
"Kingdra… just do something."
Kingdra, apparently tired of this, fired an Ice Beam. It was a little cruel.
In this world, Pokémon weren't limited to just four moves. But his own Pokémon were, at least at first. They came into this world with only four moves from the games. He had to teach them new ones with TMs and training.
But that wasn't a disadvantage. It was an opportunity.
Imagine what competitive players back on Earth could do if they weren't shackled by the four-move limit.
Yeah, battles here weren't turn-based. There was no waiting while the opponent politely took their turn. This was a real fight, fluid and messy. And that changed everything.
Still, the strategies from Earth weren't obsolete. The moves and abilities worked the same. What made Earth trainers different was their approach—an overly optimized mindset. Here, people still clung to ideas like "the power of friendship" and "there are no weak Pokémon, only weak trainers."
Blue didn't even notice when Kingdra wiped the floor with the fourth challenger—who also, of course, used a Dragonair.
The truth was, the Blackthorn Clan only had access to Dratini. That alone made them sought after. Everyone in Kanto and Johto wanted a Dratini. But the reason Lance had welcomed Blue's Bagon so readily? It was a game-changer for the clan. A second dragon species was simply too valuable to refuse.
After centuries of the same Pokémon line being used… a little diversity was worth any bribe.
"The fifth challenger!" the elder announced. This time, he stepped forward himself.
And this time, he summoned something different.
"DRAGONITE!"
Blue sighed as the plump, orange dragon appeared before him. Honestly, he'd never liked Dragonite's design. Dragonair was sleek, elegant—beautiful. Dragonite looked like a cartoon mascot in comparison. Probably an unpopular opinion, but Blue stood by it.
"Dragonite," the elder commanded, "use THUNDER!"
Blue grinned. Not bad. This one was different.
Kingdra jumped aside, dodging the attack. Thunder packed more punch than Thunderbolt, but it was also harder to control—easier to avoid.
No time to waste.
"Scald."
If he wanted to test Kingdra against a real Dragonite, he'd fight Lance. This one, though? Old. Slow. Weak.
One move was all it took.
"Incredible," the elder murmured, looking down at his fallen partner. "You are something exceptional." His eyes lingered on Kingdra, filled with awe. "Is this the peak, my boy?"
"You could say that, yes," Blue replied with a nod.
"Incredible," the elder repeated. "And your Kingdra isn't even in the water—I can only imagine its power when it is."
He stepped back, visibly shaken yet awestruck. "You've earned my respect—and more. A trainer who commands a dragon of that caliber is no ordinary soul. I've lived a long life, boy, and in all those years I've never witnessed its equal."
He let the silence hang for a heartbeat. "Your Kingdra… is the stuff of legends."
Finally, the last opponent stepped forward.
Clair.
And she summoned... another Kingdra.
Clair stared at Blue with a strange, unreadable expression. Probably still processing the chaos he'd just unleashed upon her entire clan.
"Why?" she asked finally. "Why are you challenging the clan… for me?"
"I want to bring you back to Kanto," Blue said flatly. "Become a master of dragons. Take over a Gym there, and teach others how to tame them. If you want to preserve your clan's traditions, then build a Blackthorn branch in Kanto—I don't mind.
In short—I want you to tame and rule over the dragons in my region."
Yourregion. Clair narrowed her eyes.
"So it's true then," she murmured. "You're Blue Oak. The one who defeated Lance."
"That's me." Blue smirked. "Lance already represents Johto just fine. Isn't it perfect for you to be his rival in Kanto? Honestly, I think you could even surpass him over there. Especially since you're the only Blackthorn who's ever managed to tame a dragon other than Dratini."
Clair glanced at her Kingdra, then back at Blue.
"You could've at least invited me for coffee before challenging my entire family, you dumbass…" she muttered under her breath.
Blue blinked. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said with a flick of her hair. "Let's test our Kingdras the old-fashioned way, shall we?"
Blue gave a single nod. "Alright."
And then, without hesitation, both trainers shouted:
"HYDRO PUMP!"
Twin torrents of water blasted from both sea dragons, colliding mid-air with a deafening crash. The entire battlefield trembled as the two Hydro Pumps clashed in a massive, swirling surge. The spectators gasped—it was a breathtaking sight. A test of raw power. A battle of dominance over water itself.
For a few seconds, the streams remained locked, violently twisting in the air. But slowly—inevitably—Blue's Kingdra began to push forward. His beam started inching toward Clair's, forcing her Kingdra back.
Until finally—BAM! Clair's Kingdra took the full blast straight to the face, water exploding around it as it was sent skidding across the battlefield, crashing into the ground.
Silence.
Blue had won. Decisively.
Clair didn't speak at first. She stood frozen, staring at her fallen partner. The loss settled over her like a fog—heavier than any single defeat she'd experienced before.
"The Blackthorn clan…" she said at last, her voice quiet but clear, "…has lost."
She turned toward Blue.
"Challenger," she said, more formally now. "We will accept your terms."
Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away—shoulders straight, head high—but the tension in her movements made it clear: she was deep in thought.
The elder who had first confronted Blue at the gates stood watching her go. Instead of disappointment, however, his face held a sly smile.
"Ah," he murmured to himself. "This is not so bad, after all. He's a fine addition to our family, isn't he?"
Lance, who had been secretly watching from a distance—hidden in the shadow of a tall tree on the outskirts of the Blackthorn training grounds—stared at the unfolding scene with wide eyes and a clenched jaw.
"That bastard," he muttered under his breath. "How the hell did he even know about the honor duel?"
The ritual hadn't been invoked in over a century. It was an ancient tradition—more legend than practice—and one most of the clan had probably forgotten existed. It wasn't something people used anymore. Not unless they were serious. Dead serious.
And yet, here was Blue. That cocky, unpredictable brat from Pallet Town.
Lance had allowed him to speak with Clair. Even permitted him to attempt recruiting her. But this? He never actually thought Blue would pull it off.
Looking at the wreckage of the battlefield—the defeated elders, the scorched earth, and Clair herself walking away in solemn silence—Lance could barely process what he was seeing.
Lance seethed with rage. Plans were already taking shape in his mind. He'd accept this loss. Let Blue take the disloyal ones back to Kanto. If they chose to follow him, they were never worthy of serving Johto in the first place.
Lance would raise Johto higher than ever before. He would forge his team into something greater—something unstoppable.
Blue had made a grave mistake… handing him another powerful dragon.
He would show Kanto they couldn't interfere with his region. He would show Oak that he couldn't interfere with him.
This battle wasn't lost.
It was just beginning.
And Lance intended to win.
Making Kanto stronger than Johto? What a delusion. One strong Champion doesn't lift an entire region out of mediocrity.
"Does that little bastard even know what it means to challenge an entire clan for a woman like Clair?" he growled.
Of course not.
Blue had no idea.
To him, this wasn't about ancient rites, family honor, or centuries-old tradition.
To Blue Oak, this was logistics.
He had sixteen Gym Leaders. He needed eighteen.
And Clair? She was nearly the final piece of the puzzle—the penultimate badge. Only one step remained to complete his first project.
The Kanto Region—rebuilt, redefined, and led by a new generation.
And as far as Blue was concerned?
It was right on schedule.