The Ravios Royal Academy
Perched atop a hill overlooking the sprawling capital of Ravios, the Ravios Royal Academy stood like a citadel of knowledge and power. Its polished spires reflected the morning sun, and its stone walls, veined with ivy and carved sigils of legendary Pokémon, whispered stories of centuries past.
Founded over 300 years ago, the academy had been established by King Ralden Ravelle as a place to train not just scholars, but knights, commanders, and Pokémon masters worthy of serving the crown. It was a crucible for ambition, accepting only the brightest and occasionally, the boldest.
Among its alumni were names etched into history:
Sir Ares, the Dragon Monarch, tamer of beasts and protector of the northern frontier.
High Scholar Myra Mornvale, who wrote the theory on Poké-aether resonance and pioneered aura-linked battle tactics.
And Captain Theros, whose partner bisharp once cleaved a Hydreigon's wing in a single strike.
While the academy prided itself on impartiality, many of its halls still echoed with the quiet sneer of noble legacy. Lineage, wealth, and family name opened doors that commoners had to shatter to pass through.
And yet some still shattered them.
---
"Scizor, X-Scissor, now!"
The steel-clad insect rushed forward, its claws glowing with a gleaming cross of energy. Its movement was swift, practiced but not fast enough.
A shape blurred overhead, slicing the air with a cry of raw force.
"Braviary, Wing Attack."
The avian's wings glowed white as it struck downward, knocking Scizor off its balance and sending it tumbling across the dueling field.
A dozen students looked on from the sidelines, their expressions a mixture of awe and envy.
Standing behind the Braviary, eyes cool and unreadable, was a boy of sixteen. Black hair, storm-blue eyes, and a composure sharp enough to cut stone.
Ren, second-year student of the Ravios Royal Academy, didn't even flinch as the Scizor's trainer OwenBallack, third son of House Ballack stumbled in frustration.
"Scizor, get up! Use "
"Brave Bird."
Before Owen could finish, Ren's Braviary launched forward in a streak of light and feathers. The battlefield shook as it collided with Scizor's chest, driving it into the dirt in a thunderous thud.
"Scizor is unable to battle!" the instructor called.
Ren's Braviary let out a proud cry before gliding back to his side, barely scuffed.
Across the field, another battle ended just as fiercely.
"Luxray Wild Charge!"
A blur of gold and lightning streaked forward, slamming into a Magmar with enough force to leave the air humming. The flames died instantly, and the Magmar collapsed.
The trainer behind the Luxray a girl with pink hair tied into a loose braid and eyes that shimmered with energy beamed triumphantly.
Mila, second-year and friend of Ren, offered her opponent a polite nod as the instructor called her victory.
The sparring matches concluded, and the students were called to gather.
Instructor Harven, a former captain of the royal guard and a man whose beard was as thick as his voice, stood at the edge of the battlefield with his arms folded behind his back.
"Well fought today," he began. "Better control than last week. Less wild flailing. Some of you might survive your first field mission after all."
A few students chuckled. Others stood rigid, shoulders high.
Harven began calling out names, offering sharp, precise commentary:
"Thalwin too hesitant on counterplay. You let your Kadabra get boxed in."
"Livia good positioning with your Talonflame, but don't forget terrain awareness."
"Owen your Scizor is fast, but if you panic, you'll waste its agility. Calm your head."
Owen flushed red and looked away.
Then, Harven's gaze fell on Ren.
"Ren ."
The air tensed.
"You continue to perform with precision. Braviary's form is impeccable. Your timing and your restraint commendable."
Ren gave a small nod. "Thank you, sir."
Behind him, a few murmurs broke out among the other students. Mostly nobles. Whispers that weren't whispered enough.
"Tch. Teacher's pet…"
"Of course he gets praise. Even his Pokémon probably reads books."
"Commoner or not, he's still better than you."
That last voice came from Mila, who stepped forward and folded her arms with a smirk. Her Luxray growled softly behind her.
The instructor cleared his throat.
"Mila," he said. "Excellent aggression. Magmar couldn't keep up with your pressure. Work on recovery positioning, but otherwise, strong work."
"Understood, sir," she replied, smiling faintly.
Harven closed his ledger.
"Ren. See me in my office after class."
Ren's expression didn't change, but he nodded again.
The class was dismissed.
As the students dispersed, Mila caught up to Ren at the edge of the field.
"You crushed that match."
"It wasn't difficult," Ren said. "Owen always hesitates when he's cornered."
"You say that like it's boring."
He gave a half-shrug. "It kind of was."
Mila laughed. "Still. You're the talk of the second years. If we weren't friend's, I'd be jealous."
"Some of them already are."
"You think instuctor Harven wants to talk about your battle?"
"Maybe. Or something else."
She looked at him for a moment, expression thoughtful. Then she elbowed him gently.
"You should smile more. You won."
"I'll smile when I beat Sir Ares in a duel."
Mila rolled her eyes. "sure you will good luck with that ."
---
The training field was slowly emptying. Students trickled out in groups or pairs, chatting about their battles or griping about their losses. The skies above Ravios Royal Academy were starting to shift from the clear blue of midday to the soft gold of late afternoon.
Ren and Mila walked together across the courtyard's edge, their steps casual, yet syncopated familiar.
All of their Pokémon had returned to their Poké Balls to rest after the rigorous sparring sessions.
Ren's team consist of his stalwart Braviary, loyal and proud; the ever-ready Lucario, calm as his trainer; his fiery Combusken, still learning restraint; and a headstrong Fraxure, with a temper and fangs to match. Together, they were the result of two years of focused, disciplined training.
Mila's team was no less impressive her elegant and psychic Gardevoir, a Luxray as fierce as its mistress, and her steadfast Ivysaur, whose vines had supported her victories more times than she could count.
The pair walked in silence until a familiar voice called out.
"Oi! There they are!"
A boy in well-worn training armor jogged over, his short brown hair tousled, and his grin wide. A silver-rimmed adventurer's badge hung from his sash.
Vince Lorien, third-year student and heir to a minor noble family, had always been one of the few who treated Ren and Mila as equals.
"Ren! Mila! Didn't see you two during the morning drills heard you mopped the floor with Owen and Varra."
Mila gave a small, smug smile. "They really should stop challenging us."
Ren nodded politely. "Owen's not bad. He's just predictable."
"Predictable and proud," Vince added with a laugh. He offered a fist to Ren, who clasped it briefly. "You've grown fast, man. I still remember when you and Mila first arrived you didn't even have anything special about you ."
Ren blinked. "We were barely thirteen then."
"And now you're crushing nobles like a Dragonite through butter. Actually " Vince stepped back and cracked his knuckles. " I've been meaning to test myself against you. Proper duel. Two -on-two let's make it fun . swampert been itching for a good fight ."
Ren nodded calmly. "Accepted."
Mila raised a brow. "You two and your rivalry."
"Hey, I need to test my team against actual threats once in a while," Vince grinned, then checked the sundial near the garden. "Ah, gotta go. Training match with Captain Thorne's squad. Don't disappear before I find you again."
They waved as Vince ran off, whistling a cheery tune.
---
Ren approached the stone stairwell leading to the Instructor's Wing, where the older mentors and commanders held their private offices.
The hallway was quiet, torch-lit even during daylight, and lined with portraits of famous graduates. He passed under the gaze of knights, scholars, and generals each framed with honor, each one a standard to chase.
He knocked once on the tall oak door marked HARVEN.
A voice answered, rough but even.
"Enter."
Inside, Instructor Harven sat at his modest desk, a ceramic kettle heating slowly beside a pair of tin cups. The room was sparsely decorated scrolls of ancient battles, a wooden model of a Garchomp, and a few certificates of commendation. On one shelf rested a lone Poké Ball, polished to a shine.
"Sit."
Ren obeyed. He waited, posture straight, while the older man poured two cups of steaming tea.
They sat in silence for a time. Only the sound of the fire crackling and the bubbling kettle filled the room.
Then Harven spoke.
"How's the Aura control?"
Ren blinked once. "Improving. Slowly."
Harven sipped. "Your timing today Brave Bird into delayed counterstrike it was… measured. Precision like that only comes with instinct. Or aura."
Ren lowered his gaze slightly. "I didn't use aura consciously during the match. It's hard to control in front of people."
"Hmph." Harven swirled his tea. "It wasn't conscious. But it was there."
Harven leaned forward slightly.
"Aura is more than energy. More than a battle trick or sixth sense. It is the life force of all living things, a current flowing through Pokémon and humans alike. Few can sense it. Fewer can wield it."
He paused. "And even fewer know how to control it."
Ren said nothing, but he was listening.
Harven continued, "You are one of those rare ones. A natural conduit. That's why Lucario bonded to you so quickly."
Ren's thoughts flickered to that moment when he first met Lucario as a Riolu, injured and snarling near the Riverleaf forest . The connection had been instant. Lucario had felt… like part of him.
Harven raised an eyebrow. "Tell me. What does Aura feel like to you?"
Ren took a breath. "Like light. Moving water. When it's calm, I feel everything. Every heartbeat. Every motion. When it surges… it feels like a wave is crashing through me."
Harven nodded solemnly. "That's the edge between sensing and losing control. If you train it properly, it will become your greatest strength. If not…"
Ren already knew the rest.
The first time it flared uncontrollably had been a duel with a third-year. A split-second flicker of blue had surrounded his fists and for a moment, his vision had gone white. The instructor called off the match, unsettled.
It hadn't happened since. Not fully. But Harven had noticed.
"And you?" Ren asked, suddenly.
Harven blinked.
"You use Aura too. Don't you?"
The old soldier gave a tired chuckle. "I used to. Now I mostly drink tea and watch children become trainers"
Ren didn't respond.
"Be careful," Harven said quietly. "Your strength will make people fear you. Fear makes people act stupid."
---
When Ren returned to the main hall, the late-day lecture was already starting.
Mila waved to him from their usual spot a long wooden bench beneath a tall arched window.
He took his seat beside her. She leaned in.
"So?"
"Nothing," Ren said flatly.
Mila pouted. "Come on. You can't give me nothing. Did he finally offer you mentorship? A secret mission? A key to the library dungeon?"
"Nope."
"Hmph. Cold-hearted."
She folded her arms, but smiled anyway.
Their instructor, Professor Idrin, entered, cloak trailing behind him like fog. The students settled. The chalk began to move.
Ren's hand moved toward his notebook. But his mind was somewhere else.
Aura…
Strength...
Control.
He glanced at Mila beside him so full of life, always radiating confidence and fire. He envied it sometimes.
But he was building his own fire. Quietly. Carefully.
And one day he'd need it to burn.