The private training ground was hidden behind the Gym, and at this moment, it was being gently enveloped by the afternoon sun.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting dappled light and shadows onto the thick, cushioned floor. The air was filled with a faint scent of dust and the unique aroma of Pokémon, mixed with a lingering hint of Potion—the scent that clung to Ariel.
Ariel's movements carried a deliberately maintained sluggishness, as if his injuries had not yet fully healed, and every muscle movement was accompanied by a subtle pain.
He managed this discomfort perfectly; it didn't seem contrived, yet it was enough to evoke a sense of pity and admiration from onlookers.
Norman took all of this in, his eyes revealing a hint of appreciation.
"Your body is recovering faster than I imagined."
Norman spoke, his voice steady and carrying a touch of concern.
"However, the sooner you recover your basic physical fitness and skills, the better."
He signaled for Ariel to release his Pokémon.
The figures of Krookodile, Weavile, and Greninja appeared on the training ground one after another, their gazes sharp and their fighting spirit undiminished.
As for Malamar, Norman did not mention it; he clearly lacked a deep understanding of such Pokémon with unique attributes and was unwilling to offer rash guidance.
"These few of yours have astonishing explosive power and are full of killing intent."
Norman walked over to Krookodile, his fingertips lightly touching its hard scales.
He sensed the power flowing within, his words sincere.
"But they are too dependent on instantaneous suppression, which makes them prone to revealing flaws in prolonged battles. The points of force application and the control of rhythm all need more refined polishing."
He did not directly point out Ariel's shortcomings, but instead started from the common characteristics of the Pokémon, guiding him patiently.
Norman casually picked up a training sandbag, tossed it lightly into the air, and caught it steadily.
He asked Weavile to Mimic this, but Weavile's strength was clearly too great, and the sandbag was sent flying far away.
"Aim carefully; it's not about brute force."
As he spoke, Norman threw the sandbag again.
This time, he did not let Weavile attack directly, but instead had it focus on sensing the trajectory of the falling sandbag and the subtle changes in its own muscle groups before and after exerting force.
His explanation was simple yet profound, ranging from the most basic center-of-gravity shifts to the restrained release of energy; every sentence went straight to the core.
He even personally demonstrated several footwork techniques and attack angles, his movements fluid, like flowing water.
Ariel listened modestly on the surface, nodding from time to time, and occasionally asking one or two questions that seemed confused but were actually probing.
He carefully observed every one of Norman's movements and every glance, absorbing the other's unique insights into Pokémon training into his mind like a sponge soaking up water.
He had seen Norman's strength with his own eyes; the Quasi-Elite Four Level peak Slaking possessed a nearly unsolvable suppressive power.
The experience of such a powerhouse was undoubtedly invaluable.
Ariel calculated in his heart that if these seemingly ordinary pointers could be combined with his own combat philosophy, they would surely become a powerful tool for victory in the future.
He even wondered if this Gym Leader was only one step away from becoming a Normal-type Elite.
During a break in training, Norman led Ariel to a corner of the training ground.
There, Slaking was sleeping.
Its body was massive and relaxed, its breathing steady, yet it carried an indescribable exhaustion.
Even in rest, the pressure that once shocked the entire field was gone, replaced by a deep, almost nihilistic silence.
Its eyelids were tightly closed, occasionally twitching slightly, as if it were still engaged in an endless battle in its dreams.
The color of its skin seemed to have dimmed a bit, lacking its usual vitality.
"It is still sleeping."
Norman said softly, his tone containing helplessness, but also a faint pride.
He stroked Slaking's massive palm, his movements gentle.
"The battle with Tabitha last night lasted about twenty minutes. And now, it has been sleeping for a whole day and night, yet its aura remains listless."
Ariel's gaze fell on Slaking, his eyes sharply capturing every detail.
He noticed the weak rise and fall of Slaking's chest, as well as the occasional twitching of the muscles on its body.
This was not just fatigue; it was more like a deep overdraw of strength.
Norman sighed and admitted:
"This kind of ultimate power comes with a price. My Slaking can erupt with combat power far exceeding a Quasi-Elite Four Level Pokémon in a short time, to the point where even ordinary Elite Four Level Pokémon struggle to contend with it. But for every twenty minutes of battle, it must rest completely for two to three days before its functions can recover."
He did not hide or avoid the weaknesses of Slaking.
This was a form of trust, and also an acknowledgment of Ariel's abilities.
In Ariel's heart, a chill quietly rose.
He looked at the sleeping Slaking, his mind rapidly weighing the pros and cons of this explosive power.
Invincible in the short term?
How great this temptation was.
However, the long period of weakness that followed was a fatal shortcoming.
Once one falls into this weakness at a critical moment, all glory will vanish like bubbles.
This was like a double-edged sword; while it could cut down enemies, it could also hurt oneself.
In this world, there is ultimately no perfect power.
Even someone as strong as Norman, who possessed a trump card like Slaking, could not escape the laws of nature and had its fatal constraints.
This was not a problem with Slaking as an individual, but the price that must be paid behind ultimate power.
This discovery was like a bolt of lightning flashing through Ariel's heart.
Not only did it not shake his conviction, but it also made the path he wanted to take even firmer.
He did not need that kind of fleeting power; what he wanted was comprehensive suppression, a crushing force without any blind spots.
He did not want short-lived glory, but lasting control.
To achieve this goal, any resource, any means, would be within his grasp.
He would never let himself fall into the same situation as Slaking, entrusting his fate entirely to a momentary burst.
What he wanted was the power to dominate everything, anytime, anywhere.
Ariel's gaze followed Norman; this purity, this persistence for responsibility and justice, far exceeded that of an ordinary Trainer.
He was not just a powerful Gym Leader, but a guardian with firm convictions.
He understood that Norman would never tolerate those who, like Sen, relied on Pokémon to commit evil deeds;
and for Trainers fighting for justice, he would help with all his might, holding nothing back.
A sharp, urgent communication ringtone suddenly rang out, breaking the brief tranquility in the Gym.
Norman answered, and a moment later, the gravity between his brows grew deeper.
He hurriedly ended the call, turned to Ariel, his eyes carrying a hint of apology and urgency:
"Sorry, it's an emergency summons from the League; I must leave immediately."
He took an hm disc that was shimmering with a faint light from his waist and handed it to Ariel:
"This is the hm disc for Cut, it might be useful for your Pokémon."
In his words, there was undisguised trust and encouragement.
Ariel took it; the disc felt cool to the touch, and its heavy weight was not just a carrier of knowledge, but a heavy acknowledgment.
He did not decline and accepted it calmly.
He already had a rough guess in his heart:
With the League summoning Norman at this critical juncture, what else could it be besides the recent actions of Sen and Team Magma in Petalburg City?
As soon as Norman left, the Gym suddenly became lively.
The arrogant and domineering attitude of Sen and his subordinates earlier might not have bothered Norman, but these young apprentices had all taken it to heart.
They had witnessed with their own eyes how arrogant those people were.
Now that Ariel had defeated them, it undoubtedly vented a lot of pent-up anger for everyone; the frustration that had accumulated in their hearts was swept away, replaced by uncontrollable excitement and curiosity.
An apprentice couldn't hold back and spoke first, their voice filled with a hint of excitement:
"Mr. Ariel, why don't you show us a few moves to open our eyes? We heard you defeated Sen; that was just too amazing!"
As soon as the words fell, other apprentices immediately chimed in, their eyes full of anticipation.
But soon, a slightly more composed apprentice reminded them:
"Mr. Ariel still has injuries on his body; wouldn't it be better not to exert himself too much?"
He noticed the bandages on Ariel's body.
Ariel waved his hand, signaling it was fine, with a relaxed arc on the corner of his mouth:
"I am just commanding the Pokémon, not fighting myself, so it's not a big deal."
He weighed the hm disc in his hand, a hint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.
How could he refuse free experience points?
This was not just a skill, but a rare opportunity for honing.
Seeing this, the surrounding apprentices also became excited, looking forward to the upcoming training.