The Arena of Pewter City: Understanding Brock's Strength

– The Arena of Argenta: Understanding Brock's Strength

The museum had offered me a glimpse into Brock's past. His fossils, his memories, his invisible scars. But understanding someone isn't just about observing the traces they've left behind. It's about seeing them in action, in the present moment, where they can't cheat, where they have to act.

The arena.

It was the only place where I could truly see who Brock was. A gym leader isn't just an obstacle on a trainer's path. He is a wall to climb, a living test. His role isn't to win or lose, but to judge.

I've always found that fascinating.

We think the gym is there to determine if a trainer is strong enough to continue their journey. But in reality, it's a place where you see a person's true nature. Some cling on, others give up. Some panic, others adapt.

Brock, though, collapses but always gets back up.

I wanted to understand how someone could have such resilience. How many times had he been brought to his knees before learning to rise again with every blow?

The arena loomed in front of me, massive and imposing. Its architecture was simple, raw, much like its master. A large stone door marked the entrance, without adornment. As I approached, it opened slowly with a mechanical rumble, like a golem awakening from a long sleep.

I took a few steps inside.

The air was heavier here, charged with a tension almost palpable.

The ground was uneven, covered in scattered rocks. Some were sharp, forming imposing peaks, while others were half-buried in the ground, creating a treacherous terrain. A natural trap for those who didn't know where to step.

A man in a gym uniform gave me a mechanical nod.

— Good luck.

His tone was devoid of emotion. He had likely seen dozens, perhaps hundreds of challengers enter here. To him, I was just another kid testing his luck.

What caught my attention was the layout of the terrain.

I wasn't facing Brock yet, but I could already feel his presence in every detail of the arena. The battlefield resembled him.

It was stable, yet uneven. It seemed impenetrable, but carried cracks within. It imposed rules, yet allowed space for those who knew how to adapt.

If I wanted to understand Brock, I had to read this terrain like an open book.

Where would a Geodude naturally move? Where would an agile Pokémon have an advantage? What moves would be hard to execute here?

Questions few challengers ask before a battle. And yet, they often determine the winner.

I advanced slowly, analyzing every detail, until my eyes finally met Brock's.

He stood there, upright, imposing, arms crossed, as if he had been waiting for this moment from the very beginning.

His gaze was as unyielding as the stones that made up his arena.

He didn't need to ask me anything. He knew why I was here.

— A battle with two Pokémon.

His tone was neutral. Neither friendly nor hostile. Just… direct.

Without wasting a second, he grabbed a Poké Ball from his belt and threw it in front of him.

A burst of light revealed a rocky, compact mass, its body formed of an irregular pile of stones. Two sturdy arms, piercing eyes.

Geodude.

A Pokémon as predictable as it was intimidating in such an environment.

In front of me stood a living wall, a Pokémon whose strength had shattered many ambitions.

I had to choose. I had three Pokémon.

Pikachu? No way.

Not only was he chromatic, a detail I wanted to keep hidden as much as possible, but he was at a disadvantage. His Electric type would have no effect on a Rock/Ground Pokémon.

That left me with Bulbasaur and Rattata.

Logic dictated that I should send Bulbasaur out immediately. With its Grass-type moves, it had a massive type advantage.

But… no.

If there was one thing I'd learned from playing Pokémon Chess, it was that the best move is not always the most obvious one.

I wanted to test Brock's patience first. See how he would react to a longer battle, one where he had to adjust his strategy.

So, I opted for Rattata.

Light. Fast. Hard to catch.

I took my Poké Ball and threw it.

— Go, Rattata!

My Pokémon appeared on the field, landing nimbly between two rocks. Its sharp gaze quickly scanned the arena, analyzing its surroundings. It knew it was physically weaker than Geodude, but it had something else to compensate: speed.

Agility against sturdiness.

Erosion against the mountain.

The referee moved to the center of the field.

He raised one arm.

Silence fell over the arena.

The battle began.

And now, I could finally see what kind of strength Brock was made of.