A water-type trainer who specializes in dragon-type water.

Having exhausted his last bit of strength, Tao Dailang let out a soft sigh as the two dark purple peach shells slowly closed.

Like a depleted fruit, it silently sank into the shadow at Grandpa Zhang Heng's feet and disappeared.

The old man gently pressed his aged hand on the shadow and whispered, "You've worked hard, old friend."

On the battlefield, the deathly silence was broken by a weak yet uncertain voice from somewhere along the South China Sea defense line: "We...won?"

The question was like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pool.

After a moment, Lin Tao's voice rang out, carrying an indescribable weariness and a hint of reassurance: "It seems... yes."

Ou Yuhua and Zhai Li helped each other up with difficulty from the cold snow.

Their eyes swept over the devastated battlefield, showing no elation, only a bewildered sense of relief at surviving the ordeal and a hint of unbelievable joy.

Ai Wen and Min Hui sprang into action, calling out the names of their teammates in hoarse voices as they moved among the tattered bunkers and frozen corpses, taking stock of the shocking casualties.

With the help of their comrades, Zhu Zi and A Min gradually regained consciousness.

They stood on the front line, a tapestry of scorched earth and frozen ice, gazing up at the sky—a place where a crack leading to hell had once opened, now reduced to a patched-up, unmarked expanse.

It was as if the earth-shattering battle just now was a nightmare that was all too real.

The two looked at each other and saw the same shock and disbelief in each other's eyes.

"We...we actually won?" Amin's voice was dry and hoarse, carrying a strong sense of unreality.

This sentence is like lighting a fuse.

"Won!!"

"we won!!!"

After a brief silence, the emotions that had been suppressed to the limit suddenly erupted!

The surviving soldiers, regardless of the severity of their wounds, erupted in hoarse cheers. The wounded on the defensive line struggled to raise their heads, tears and blood mingling as they howled like wild beasts.

Those Pokémon companions who could still move endured their pain and sprayed colorful beams of energy into the sky after the disaster—flames, water, lightning, and flying leaves… They intertwined and rose, exploding in the cold air, like a belated, blood-red fireworks tribute to the victims.

However, this tragic "fireworks" did not last long.

The cheers receded as quickly as the tide, leaving behind a colder, heavier reality.

"Old Li... Old Li, wake up!" a hoarse, tearful scream rang out. "Look at me! Look at me! You fucking wake up! Your child... your child is due next month! You promised your wife you'd come back!!"

A soldier with a blood-stained face knelt beside a human-shaped ice sculpture, futilely pounding his fists against the hard, cold surface until his fists were soon a bloody mess.

Inside the ice sculpture is the frozen face of his comrade, still bearing the last trace of astonishment.

“Partner… my Arcanine… it pushed me away…” Elsewhere, a young trainer held his Pokémon’s cold, pierced body, his eyes empty and lifeless, tears streaming silently down his face, as if his soul had been ripped away.

"Why...why wasn't it me who died..." Someone huddled in a corner, murmuring softly, their eyes unfocused, immersed in endless regret and pain.

"Dazhuang...Xiaoyi...Xiaodao..." Someone repeatedly murmured the names of their fallen teammates and partners, their voices choked with sobs, eventually turning into heart-wrenching cries.

The joy of victory was fleeting, instantly overwhelmed by an even greater and thicker sorrow.

The air was thick with the salty stench of gunpowder, blood, and tears; every breath felt like inhaling a cold knife.

The brutal aftermath of war was laid bare, casting a thick, indelible shadow of sorrow over this hard-won victory.

Zhang Heng stood silently at the edge of the battlefield, watching the hellish scene before him.

Cheers and cries mingled, life and death stood side by side.

This was the first time he had personally experienced such a large-scale and brutal all-out war.

The passion of trainers fighting side-by-side with their Pokémon is shattered at this moment by the fragility and unpredictability of life.

Those figures who were roaring and charging forward one second may turn into ice sculptures or charred remains the next.

His heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, heavy and suffocating him.

A wrinkled yet steady and strong hand gently patted his shoulder. Grandpa had appeared beside him without him noticing.

"The first time, I suppose..." The old man's voice was low, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield, carrying a calm that came from having seen it all, and a hint of barely perceptible sorrow.

"When I first experienced such a scene, I was shaking even more than you. I couldn't sleep for three days and three nights. All I could see when I closed my eyes were my fallen comrades and partners."

Zhang Heng nodded silently.

The old man gazed into the distance, as if piercing through time and space: "That's how war is, child. It takes away the best and leaves behind the most painful. But those who survive have no right to succumb. Those whose will breaks down fall forever on the battlefield."

"Those who can pull through are those who carry this pain, this longing, the unfulfilled expectations of their comrades, and the yearning gazes of their families on their shoulders, gritting their teeth and moving forward. Step by step... until they emerge from this shadow. So that their sacrifices will not be in vain, so that they may protect those who are still alive and those who need protection."

Zhang Heng listened silently to his grandfather's words, trying to draw strength from them, but the desolate atmosphere in the air was like countless cold needles, constantly pricking his nerves and reminding him of the huge emptiness behind the victory.

"Look! True strength, true leadership, cannot be defeated by war!"

Following his grandfather's gaze, Zhang Heng turned around and looked back.

Just then, a clear and resolute voice, like an icicle piercing through the dark clouds, resounded distinctly across the battlefield:

"quiet!"

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound. They saw that Du Ling Shuang, the champion from Northeast China, was standing on a huge ice floe.

"Crackling——"

The dense ice-type energy of Glaceon exploded instantly!

A thick, crystal-clear icicle rose from beneath her palm at an astonishing speed, lifting her steadily several meters above the ground so that everyone could see her.

She stood atop the icicle, her posture as upright as a snow-covered pine, her gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping over the faces below, stained with blood, streaked with tears, or numb with despair.

"I know!" Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a power that pierced the heart, suppressing all the sobs and wails.

"Some people have lost their brothers! Some have lost their most loyal Pokémon partners! Some have lost half their lives, or even more!"

She paused, letting this cruel reality pierce everyone's heart once again.

“Sadness? Pain? Despair? Who doesn’t have it! I have it too!” Her voice suddenly rose, filled with an undeniable resolve.

"But look around you! Look at those who are still breathing! Look at those who need you! Brothers lying here, what were they fighting for? Was it so that you could lie down too? Was it so that you could cry yourselves to death here?!"

"No!" she said firmly. "They did it so that we could live! So that we could carry on their legacy and continue to protect our country! Protect this land they risked their lives for!"

"Crying is fine! But once your tears have dried, stand up!" Du Ling Shuang pointed sharply towards the rear of the battlefield, towards the inland area. "Stop crying, carry the remains of your brothers! Take your wounded comrades with you!"

Her voice, like a war drum, struck heavily into everyone's heart:

"Bring your brothers along—"

She took a deep breath, and with all her might, issued a command that shook the battlefield and dispelled despair:

"Let's go home!!!"

"go home!!!"

"Bring the brothers home!!!"

After a brief silence, a roar even louder and more resolute than before erupted! It was no longer a simple cheer, but a vow filled with blood and tears, responsibility, and an indomitable will!

As if injected with a powerful stimulant, the soldiers who were still able to move struggled and helped each other to their feet. They wiped the blood and tears from their faces, and a light rekindled in their eyes—the light of responsibility.

They no longer wallowed in grief, but instead began to act silently and systematically.

With the help of the medical team that rushed to the scene, they carefully collected the cold bodies of their comrades and gently lifted their seriously injured partners and Pokémon.

The grief did not disappear, but was suppressed by a stronger force that compelled us to move forward.